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## i keep circling

|| NSLarry until the end of the world.

2030.

Ohio’s heat is growing unbearable.

Larry, of course, can withstand it; he can withstand anything, any pain & any disfigurement & any catastrophe, with the Spirit inside of him. The Spirit is always inside of him now. Peace burst from Larry’s chest in late 2021; he knows their all now, he knows them wholly, completion of a cycle and the force of the cycle’s repeat. The world has not been very kind to them.

The Spirit is terrified — he understands this, too. Their terror lurches underneath his breastbone. Their light is dim nowadays. He thinks that they are supposed to be happy, now that enlightenment has been reached, but they refuse to leave him unless he is in danger.

Larry will die without their presence, without their love. Long ago they were separated and Larry felt it like pitting his stomach out — the way he lacked them, the sensation of being incomplete, unfulfilled. Empty.

Empty like space.

They have both stopped coveting space. Space creates a horrible, freezing loneliness, a frightening sick sorrow within each body. They will stay on Earth until Earth ends and then they will rest in Earth’s rubble, hand in hand. Together.

2035.

“And how is your friend today?” Rita asks, shoveling pancake and cereal into her mouth. Things are monotone in the manor now that world-threatening evil has retreated back into their habitats, into captivity, into fear. Conversation has been drained from their lives, running back into the similarly low oceans surrounding them, always surrounding them, always a welcomed drowning.

“They’re good,” Larry responds. He watches her eat, misses the feeling. The Spirit's presence is enough to keep him alive now. The Spirit is enough for him. The Negative Spirit is all that he needs; his memories of despising them are buried decades in the past. He’s almost forgotten how to hate.

Still -- he aches for the time when he clinged to the concept of humanity. He has seen the horrors that the world is capable of, now, death and disaster and purposeful ignorance like scorches of the brain, and it is easier to curl into himself than deal with things like eating, or yearning, or reminiscing.

“Talk to them lately?”

“No.”

“Interesting.” She wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You should.”

“Why?”

“Because you need them,” Rita says, and it’s terse, it’s blatant, it’s everything that he acknowledges but cannot verbalize. “And we need you.”

2050.

Larry keeps waiting for the world to end.

The Negative Spirit exits his body for the first time in twenty years, solely to comfort him. They reverted to conversations in the dreamscape, but now his paranoia cannot be endured any longer. He needs them. He needs their concrete, permanent presence, and they are willing to take the risk if there’s a chance it ends beautifully, if it ends with his calm.

He’s sitting on his bed, grins wide and tooth-filled when they find him. “Hey,” he whispers. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”

He lies back on his bed, an invitation. He knows what their mission is. They have, with determination, made it to ten minutes of safe separation over the years.

Harmony.

So they hold him. He buries his head into their neck, turns to his side, embraces them in their entirely, his arm draped over their torso like ancient works of art, history that they can never witness.

2090.

Larry watches the world crumble beneath him, watches the fires envelop the planet like the Negative Spirit enveloping his essence so long ago.

“Leave me,” he breathes. His ribs sting with the words. “Please. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to live through this. You deserve freedom.”

“I thought we were past this,” the Spirit responds. In the real world, he is asleep on his bed, because somehow the manor is still standing, somehow they still have that safety.

“I don’t understand you,” Larry hisses. “We’re running out of time.”

“If I die with you,” the Spirit responds, voice fresh and gentle, “I will die in peace. I will die having known you. That is all I need.”

2100.

Larry stands near the rocket, leans against the cool metal. It’s time for them to go.

“What do you say, pal?” he asks. “Are you ready to go home?”