Igor took out the military uniform that he hadn't worn for a long time, buttoned the last button and looked at himself in the mirror. At this moment, he felt like Wendy walking back from school with her report card, as if he was in another world.
Perhaps what makes people feel distant is not the length of time, but two or three irreversible things.
He sighed softly and touched his pocket. There was a restaurant receipt in there that he had put in at some unknown time. It was the bill record for the last dinner he, Dr. Garcia, and Nixon Evelyn had. Who could have imagined at that time that there would be so many ups and downs and dizzying changes in the future?
The gray-haired young man, who seemed to have not changed much compared to the past two years, except that his hair had grown longer, walked out of the room and smiled slightly at the god who was standing in front of the sunny floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the clear blue sky in a trance. The moment he noticed that the other party turned around, a stunning light flashed in his black eyes, which were coated with a layer of golden light by the bright color of the stars.
A bouquet of greenhouse-raised white roses peeked through the open window, its intricately beautiful petals drooping shyly as if to press a shy kiss on His cold, austere black robe. Meanwhile, a young human stood at the other end of the room, before a mirror that reflected the light and even the finest dust. His attire, from his pale collar to his cuffs and crisp trouser legs, was meticulously executed. He resembled a sword ready to be unsheathed, even carrying the scent of blood that settled in his bones. Yet, his face, gazing at Azathoth, was remarkably gentle.
In the fragmented memories, is the deep scar on your face that is visible to the bone a mark left by breaking away from the past?
This question lingered in Igor's mind for a long time, but when he thought of the vivid sadness on Arthur's vivid human-like face, and the result of his resolute order to his subordinates to use a suicide attack that seriously injured Sabrina Guevera, he felt that there was nothing to ask.
There is too much time for God to forget something, whether good or bad.
But at least when He is still willing to use "he" to describe it, whether it is a tired bird in the human world or a god wandering in the long river of time, they all have their own place to rest.
Igor once saw Hugo holding a book with a sentence in it, which was written by another Earth writer, Balzac, in his novel: "So-called love is actually the warm gratitude of honest people to those who give them happiness."
Azathoth had specifically used this sentence to tease him: "I don't think I'm being honest enough."
The god looked at Igor with a fiery gaze, as if to melt his beloved into his soul. "Because you have brought me so many unfamiliar positive emotions, I can't express them with just one word, 'love'."
Strictly speaking, it was because of Igor that Azathoth finally understood what satiety, pain, happiness, loneliness, desire... and even love. Those things might have already existed within this human body, but no matter how many years had passed before, he was always the tentacle monster, warily hiding outside the glass shell, willing to be a bystander, tormented by the emptiness resonating in his chest and abdomen, sleeping all day long, until someone reached out, hooked his little finger, and pulled him inside the shell.
At this time, Azathoth felt like a human being.
He… He showed a shy, involuntary smile, and the cold feeling on his body, which was out of place with the others, was like an ice cream left in the sun in summer, melting quickly, leaving only the sweet and soft cream core.
"You look really good in this outfit." Igor heard him say in admiration, "No wonder there are so many Omegas, Betas and even quite a few Alphas on Starnet..." He muttered something in a low voice, and the human didn't hear it clearly before he was wrapped tightly in the robe and smelled a hint of the sea, sunshine and beach.
Igor couldn't help but use a little force to hug her back, thinking silently: If love is measured by the gift of happiness, then he may never have the chance to repay it in this lifetime. As for gratitude... If Azathoth wanted his soul now, Igor would definitely offer it without hesitation - if his soul could allow the god to rest for a moment, it would be enough to comfort mankind.
**
The morning took some time to put on and take off clothes. In the afternoon, both Igor and Azathoth were in a good mood, so when Nixon Evelyn invited them to enjoy afternoon tea, neither of them had any objection.
They met in a secluded café. Igor's picture had been making headlines recently, and this time he had donned a simple disguise, dressed like a dandy young man who had skipped home to meet his beloved. From head to toe, he exuded the air of a man who had seen the hustle and bustle of the world. No one could connect the present Igor with the solemn and serious man in his military uniform.
On the contrary, it was Azathoth... He put on Igor's suit again, and Igor provided help with both the shirt and the tie. In addition, although he was thin, he had a big frame, so it didn't look weird to wear it. In order to cover his face, he specially wore a huge top hat and round-frame sunglasses in the golden autumn season in the northern hemisphere.
When Nixon saw Azathoth for the first time, he thought he was a great artist who graduated from a film and television school... or a magician who was passing through here on tour. In short, he was not a small figure. After all, the aura of someone who has been in a high position for a long time cannot be faked.
Then Igor sat down calmly and greeted him.
By the way, I introduced Azathoth: "You met in Keminting Town."
The development of Kemingting Town has been on the agenda for a long time, and perhaps in a few years it will be renamed "Kemingting City".
With a "bang", the coffee cup in Nixon's right hand fell on the table. He stood up with an embarrassed look on his face and asked the front desk for a stack of napkins in the surprised eyes of people around him.
As he was clearing the table, Igor asked, "What happened to your hand?"
"It's an old problem." Nixon flexed his knuckles. "I've had some inflammation from the office, and I ended up in the hospital once. It doesn't affect my work now, but I just don't follow instructions very well sometimes."
He laughed at himself and said, "Ford said this was retribution for my constant fishing trips on StarNet."
"Let's not talk about me anymore." The man with reddish-brown curly hair took out a cigarette case and placed it on the table, but didn't take it out. He habitually twirled a cigarette between his fingers. "How have you been lately?"
"That's definitely much better than before." Igor smiled. "Ah, I troubled Mr. Hill a lot before. I'll have to go and thank you someday."
"He said it's not necessary," Nixon looked up at the silent Azathoth, "Langman Griffin, who has troubled him many times before, joining the Bureau is the best reward."
"Master Griffin?" Igor thought for a moment and asked, "Because of me?"
"Yes," Nixon said, a bit sarcastically. "He's always been at the forefront of adapting to the situation. The Vatican wants to keep him because Griffin was previously in charge of research on civilian products using supernatural powers."
"But there's more than one Griffin family."
"So Langman is now under house arrest in the old house. I heard that his eldest son is trying to take over his family business."
Azathoth was drowsy listening to this and almost fell asleep on Igor's shoulder in the warm sunshine.
But before he lowered his head completely, he suddenly remembered something, so he said hello to Igor and walked towards the empty bathroom.
Nixon watched him walk away, his breath suddenly relaxing. He said helplessly, "You were talking about… were you referring to Him? It seems like you really don't like interacting with strangers."
He was being too tactful. There was only room for one person in that person's eyes.
"There's no need to socialize." Igor shook his head. "I don't want to trouble Him in these matters, but I'm coming out together today." He pushed the invitation in his hand over. "You should know... the wedding."
Nixon stared at him and said nothing for a long time.
"Is this true?" He hissed after a long pause as he took the invitation. "It's gone viral online."
"What?"
"Oh, I knew you weren't paying attention." Nixon thought for a moment, then opened a post and handed it to Igor. "Want to see your own fanfiction? It seems like my wife has given birth to something new recently."
Then he laughed out loud at his friend's rare expression, and only stopped laughing when he saw the dissatisfied looks from people around him.
"I'll go," the commentator said, tucked the invitation into his arms with care. "I still remember at graduation, everyone was joking about who would be the first to start a family. So many years have already passed in the blink of an eye."
He drank the little coffee left in his hand and closed his eyes.
No matter what, there is still sweetness lingering between the lips and teeth after the bitterness.
**
Azathoth looked at his reflection in the mirror, his lips slightly curled up under the brim of his hat.
He snapped his fingers.
A white dove in front of a coffee shop flapped its wings and flew into the sky.
**
Agnes Joyce ran along the leaf-covered street until she reached the sanatorium at the end of the road.
She was breathing heavily, her long red hair fluttering behind her head like a cluster of flames that never stopped burning.
"Is that news true?!"
The medical staff member she was holding down widened his eyes, then realized, "Little Annie, it's you! You scared me! Yes, that's right. Shirley Joyce has regained consciousness. Although her physical and mental condition will still take a long time to adjust, and there's no guarantee that she'll be fully restored to normal, at least now she can read the letters you wrote to her..."
Her voice stopped abruptly, because big tears rolled down the little girl's eyes, which were as bright as her hair.
Then the medical staff saw Anne bent over in pain and finally curled up on the ground. They took out their mobile devices and sent a message to the person named 'Erica': "I'm sorry..."
**
Erica, who was far away on the other side of the city, quietly took out a mobile terminal from the hole in the table and glanced at the screen.
She could hear the teacher standing at the podium giving a careful and earnest explanation, but her thoughts involuntarily drifted elsewhere.
I'm not in a position to accept Joyce's apology on Wendy's behalf.
Wendy has the right to seek revenge on all the murderers.
But Anne hadn't made any mistakes... Shirley Joyce was a loved one she cherished.
The brown-haired, green-eyed girl pondered for a moment. She didn't immediately reply to Annie's message, but instead opened the chat room with Wendy Sullivan, who had sent her a message a few minutes earlier: "I passed your school's entrance exam!! My brother said he'd take us out for a big dinner tonight to celebrate!"
Erica smiled, locked the screen again, raised her head and started listening to the teacher.
There is always a chance to resolve those old grudges one by one.
At least now, we live together in the sunshine.
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