closed.

[construing]

CHARACTERS: gwen, wei wuxian & itachi
LOCATION: gwen & wei wuxian's shared room
DATE: before the mission
CONTENT: a private memorial
WARNINGS: none at the moment.

〈 the word of the day is pensive.

back in her well-loved spider-woman hoodie, a little comfort, gwen eased into quiet as the hours passed. as they did too, her attention was stolen more and more by her phone screen. in itself not a rarity for her. only her earbuds have remained in her pocket; nor does she unlock the screen. each time, the screen lights up with the date and time as it would be back in new york. then the screen goes dark again until the next time she taps it.

there is a full house today: not a rarity, either. in the hammock chair, gwen pushes herself gently while the boys take up the other half of the room. another comfort. wei wuxian's bright teasing; the baritone of itachi's response. she looks over her phone with a little smile. when her eyes slide back to the screen, it is to watch the minute number change. sundown in new york.

early on, she requested a candle—one that would burn for exactly one day. it was kept safely among her things until today…when it will join the yellow 20-sided die and peter's eyeglasses on the shelf. both hands wrap around the smooth glass encasing the candle. she planned for everything except the lighter.

gwen extends it to itachi. 〉

Can you light this?

Comments

[blackfire]

（ there is something in the air. intangible and gossamer, it hangs between they three like a web. it tangles. sometimes gwen, in the glance at her phone. sometimes wei wuxian, in the way his attention flickers to gwen and his brow furrows faintly. sometimes he feels it settle around himself, a frightening snarl of thread that tightens to the point of pain every time he looks at his friends and feels something like contentment.

gwen holds out the candle, and itachi reaches for her rather than to take it. long fingers curl around hers, and he bows his head, leans in. his free hand makes the seals, and then he breathes a wisp of flame against the wick of the candle. it sparks, and his touch lingers a moment longer before he releases her, and withdraws back into his own space. ）

[singlelogbridge]

[Wei Wuxian watches the exchange with a heavy feeling in his chest that he tries not to let show on his face. When the candle has been lit, he moves to Gwen, tempted to hook his chin over her shoulder as he's done a hundred times before, and settling for placing his hand there instead. It lasts for only a moment before he replaces his hand with his chin after all.

He doesn't know the source of her strange and heavy mood, but she'll speak on it when she wants to, if she wants to. His eyes track the flicker of the candle's flame as he finally speaks, open curiosity in his gaze. This at least he can't stop himself from asking about.]

What's that for?

[construing]

Yahrzeit. It’s a Jewish custom. On sundown on the eve of the anniversary of a death, a candle is lit in remembrance.

〈 cupped between her hands now, gwen cradles the candle like something sacred. shuffling closer to the shelf, she places it with immense care. the flickering light paints the lenses of peter’s glasses yellow like the die.

gwen returns her hands in her lap. her fingers wind her bracelet around her wrist. 〉

I watched May light a candle every year. She said to me once, “The human soul is a light from God.” That’s what the candle represents. It reminded me of something from physics class. You remember that day with Dr. Connors?

〈 gwen’s blue eyes follow the dancing orange flame. to whom she speaks is immediately obvious. he is present in this room—has been aboard the ximilia as long as gwen herself. 〉

He said darkness doesn’t exist. Not really. What we perceive as darkness is just the absence of light. Same with cold. When we feel cold, we’re really feeling the absence of heat. And this terrible emptiness I’ve felt since you died…that doesn’t exist, either. What I feel is the absence of you.

You reached through time, Peter. Another thing that doesn’t exist. Past, present, future…they’re illusion. Our imperfect brain’s attempt to understand something beyond its comprehension. I know it’s not real because— What you did fractured my understanding of the past. It closed off whole futures. You stole my present from me. You took it all. You, more than anyone, dictated what I became, and you never asked me permission.

I have been carrying you for six years. You were so heavy, Peter. 〈 eyes closed, she exhales, 〉 God, you’re so heavy…

〈 the keening ache in her chest sharpens to a point between her ribs. when she opens her eyes, her vision swims. it takes her a moment to regain her voice. when she does, it proves remarkably steady. 〉

You were—you are…like gravity. We fall into orbit every single time. Every universe. You know the wildest part? I wouldn’t change it. I’m actually grateful. We’re part of this grand symphony, you and me.

Because death isn’t real either. Life is a song, and it doesn’t have an end. Just like matter, the rhythm transforms. It grows and it dips and it crescendos—the terrible, awe-inspiring backbeat of the universe. It’s in the beat of your heart, and it’s in mine. We’re stardust taking shape with the music of the cosmos.

Which means I don’t need to keep carrying you, Peter Parker. 〈 as quietly as she began, she finishes her goodbye. her fingers come to rest upon the eyeglasses. 〉 This next part is me.

〈 her fingers linger over the wire frame for a second before withdrawing. the light glints off the lenses. 〉

[blackfire]

（ he's silent as she talks. the words fall through the threads strung between them, and his gaze flickers from the candle to the glint of the glasses. all those times in taeum that her attention had drifted to something only she could see, how often was it this boy haunting her steps?

yahrzeit, she says, and he will remember the term.

grief is familiar. an easy ocean to sink beneath, and he knows too well how it feels to watch the water close above your grasping hand. wei wuxian flanks one side of her, and he lingers at the other. it is a long moment before he touches her, his hand finally curling in against her elbow like an anchor. ）

Should we speak?

（ he does not know the ritual, but will attempt to adhere just the same. ）

[construing]

〈 the light pressure at her elbow takes a moment to sink through her awareness. as if awakening, she blinks once. twice. turns to look itachi with eyes that seem through him to some point beyond. recognition follows last. gwen wipes at her cheek. 〉

Yeah. Sorry. Um. 〈 she gives her head a little shake. 〉 You can do what you want.

〈 her laugh is quiet. 〉 Kind of got lost in my own thoughts there.

[singlelogbridge]

Important thoughts. [He smiles softly at her other side and twines his arm around hers, taking her hand in his own and offering a light squeeze. There are a dozen thoughts circling in his mind about the boy he never met that shaped Gwen so much, but in the end none of them feel right and he stays silent. He does send up a silent prayer of his own though.

Thank you, Peter. For all that you did for her. For all the ways you helped shape the friend that I love. I'm sorry for all of the hurt. I hope that if you two are born into another life, you'll get to meet each other and love each other again.

His own words sent off into the universe, he turns to press an affectionate kiss to Gwen's temple.]

[blackfire]

（ he lifts a hand, reaches to gently cup his palm against the back of her head, and pull her in against him. it's rare he allows nearness of anyone — even the two of them, his closest friends. ）

I am grateful that your love for him brought you to us.

（ he feels sorrow and sympathy for the boy. it is not easy to be overlooked, cast aside, dismissed. he can understand the rage and resentment and the fear that had driven him to act as he did, and forced gwen's hand just the same. but that does not make it right. it just makes it done. ）

I hope a kinder life is his destiny in his next incarnation.

[construing]

〈 bracketed by her friends, gwen laces her fingers through wei wuxian's, let her head drop briefly against itachi's. when she inhales, her lungs fill a little easier. the strain around her ribs is a little less. the beat of her heart is a little more powerful than the ache that surrounds it.

it will never go away. as her love will not. a realization come to a long time ago. the other part of it is how much the love continues growing around it. there will be days when she grabs for the memory and pricks her palm on the thorns. there are as many days, however, when she can turn it over to find the flower. every petal rich with color; their touch sweet as joy.

when she raises her head, her smile is radiant. 〉 Some universes we even get it right.

Here, 〈 she encourages after a pause. 〉 Scooch in.

〈 her phone is in her hand. her thumb taps the camera, and the screen displays the floor, her leg, a sliver of itachi's knee. another tap and when she raises the phone, the three of them are reflected. she gives the boys a moment to arrange themselves. a quiet click, a flash of the screen. the photo zooms down to the corner. gwen opens it for all to see.

it is not the prettiest picture. it won't be winning any technical awards soon. but there is something more: in the closeness of itachi; in the anchor that is wei wuxian. something poignant. something tender.

she smiles as sweetly as in the photo. 〉 See that? There's love here.