[open] The Sweet Sting || Elio ||

[elio]

elio

some say I should learn to cry but I only learned how to fight
and I know everything must die but nothing fades like the light

Cool, autumnal sunlight highlights the white of a sweet, secret smile. The dark lips and red fur that surround his smile enrich the joy, making him look like a boy, polished in a child’s naive way. He’s looking for something, though what it is he is looking for is not given away by such a sincere face. Creeping green vines and warmly hued fallen leaves do tell a tale, though—one full of adventure and hope.

Yes, Elio is looking for something: a set of chiseled gray boulders covered in green, fluffy moss. They’re in a clearing hard to miss, surely glorious basking in afternoon sun. Elio remembers the first time he’d stumbled upon them: a cool spring day, the rock hot on his skin, the most satisfying nap. He had been crying that day, not for his usual family woes but because he just couldn’t figure out who he was.

He hardly cries, now. Elio is a bit harder, but—but somehow softer, too. Lighter. The door he had kept locked for so long now stands a few inches cracked. A breeze flows through. A white curtain flutters and tickles him. It’s peaceful.

“There you are,” Elio whispers, shattering the glassy reverie. The sun beats down on the steely and bright green of the rock in such a way that Elio just knows it’s surface is perfect for a nap. He trots around to a half-circle piece of stone, one short enough for him to hop on but wide enough for him to nap on. Elio studies it, nose brushing against the earthy-smelling moss. He takes a deep breath—

“Oh!”

Sleek and obviously predatory, the creature startles Elio enough for him to take several steps back. He snorts, lifts his head, and swallows back his immediate embarrassment. Irritation forces his legs into a stiff lock, and he draws his head closer to his neck. Against Elio’s better judgement, he twists his ears back and foregoes the creature’s question:

“What does that matter to you?”