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can we always be this close (forever and ever)

John reaches over to take his hand and Larry watches the sunset as if he can experience warmth again, as if he has warmth within him. He has warmth within him, but it is not sourced in his own soul. The warmth within him is, solely, the Spirit and directed towards the Spirit—

oh.

Larry sparks. Inside of Larry Trainor, above his head like the comedy of a lightbulb, bursting from his heart like new life, there is a realization. It is like the first light of the morning skies. Fresh. Beautiful, something to bask in---

The Negative Spirit had raised him and pulled him out of Hell, the final and ultimate destination, itself — the fire melting Larry down into a visual representation of the sinful planetary truth, a singe against the heart that pulses loving through this world. The Spirit had pulled him out of the hellnest he had built himself with torn-off scraps of suffering and boneshards of trauma. The Spirit had pulled him out of his own mind to in turn possess it, and create his life anew. Mythical, like a Phoenix. He rises from the ashes of his jet and the ashes of his prior painful life and becomes something beautiful — something that he now recognizes as beautiful, as virtuous even after causing ash —- and it is all

because

of the Spirit.

The Spirit knows only power. The Spirit is whole. The Spirit possesses entire universes in the holes of their eyes, the Spirit holds knowledge in its shaking hands and absorbs it, emits lightning from fingertips to turn the room bright. His heart, the room. His chest, the room. The room with spacious walls, widened, to fit all that Larry is stuffed comfortably inside the Spirit inside of Larry inside of the Spirit inside of—-

Like nesting dolls. Like—

Inside of Larry, the Spirit lets the flutter encompass them, the wholeness of their being, every aspect of their energy turning into Earth insects crawling and burrowing and soaring. They become hummingbird flutters. They become butterfly wings—

Later Larry will know these well—

but now the Spirit is the one who flies, even from the core. Even from in here, the muscle, the Spirit flies and bounces off bone. Freedom. Freedom found within the soul of Larry Trainor, no longer confined to his suffering but liberated by the tidal waves drowning it out and washing away. Unchained.

Free to be his. Free to belong.

In this moment, Larry is invaded by a similar knowledge. The Spirit is divine power and yet it--- wants to help him heal. It doesn’t have to care about him. He has sailed through these past uneven & stormy decades with a choking hatred towards the Spirit. It has no reason to show him this kindness. It has no reason to want him. It, by all logic, should have no investment in Larry’s wellbeing.

The Spirit’s mere existence is illogical and the Spirit cares for him anyway. Nothing about their situation follows logic. Emotions bleed through the fabric of logic, and Larry finds himself caring too -- finds himself wanting harmony.

As the thought of harmony crosses Larry’s mind, the Spirit feels itself turn to clouds, lose its coherency. This is, after all, what it has always craved: Larry and his companionship, his gratitude. Because without the Spirit, Larry would not have gained this closure. Larry would never have found John. Larry never would have moved on. Larry Trainor and the Negative Spirit, both so uncontrollably ruled by emotion like cruel kingdoms. Larry Trainor and the Negative Spirit, thankful for one another. Knowing the other’s presence is a reminder of healing, now.

And Larry’s gratitude flows through his veins, threatens to poke through his bandages and vaporate, infect the world around him, act in soil and create new life from the seeds and dirt of thank you, words harvested. Larry’s gratitude flowing out of him like a fatal wound.

He treats the Spirit with respect and the respect is mirrored.

The Spirit wants him to love, to experience life again. To break free from the cages of torture and breathe new air.

John asked if there’s been anyone special in his life. Now that he thinks of it — now that he has absorbed this realization, this new light — he knows.