Things Not Subject To Gravity - Chapter 19: Chapter 19

On Wednesday morning, nobody pulled Set out of bed. He slowly opened his eyes and stretched. Apart from the ticking of a clock on the bedside table, the house was silent.
The boy rubbed his eyes and then turned around on the pillow to check the time. It was past eleven. He liked the peaceful atmosphere, but the silence made him uncomfortable as he thought that Vain could've disappeared somewhere. Shaking his head, he dragged himself to the bathroom and dipped in the tub. The water's warm embrace enveloped him and turned his body into jelly. His eyes half closed, he breathed in the light steam carrying a hint of the lemongrass scented soap. Still, that feeling of uneasiness lingered in the back of his mind.
After he got out, he slipped into a pair of jeans and the red t-shirt that Sybil had bought him. As he stood in front of the sink, he rubbed his eyes again and pulled back his hair. He glanced at his reflection. The room was so huge that the steam didn't fog up the mirror. His mouth dropped open.
In place of the hungry homeless boy Set used to be, there was a guy—at least five years younger—that looked like he had been dieting to be on screen. He had clean-shaven, fair skin and a model's face framed by shining, dark hair with red frosted tips. There were no dark circles under his big bright eyes, and the new clothes fit him like a glove.
Set had not seen a decent version of himself for so long that he couldn't recognize his own face. His hand moved up to touch the mirror as he took a closer look. Still in disbelief, he pinched his cheek.
The guy in the mirror did the same.
Set's fingers stroked his cheek, enjoying the contact with smooth, soft skin. He stretched his mouth in a smile.
At that, the face in the mirror brightened, displaying perfect white teeth.
Set shook his head again and stepped back. He still couldn't believe he managed to get fixed up so nicely, and it wasn't because of the price of it. Money was something he could have had if he wanted, but to be touched by all those people, that was another thing. Left by himself, he would've gone mad and smashed everything around. However, Sybil Vain's gentle touch had come every time Set was about to lose it. Small gestures – like resting a pale hand on his shoulder or over his head – and magically all was well.
Since his disorder had manifested, Set had given up on any sort of intimacy. He couldn't even remember the comfort of another's touch and that was for the best. His heart had longed for it though, to the point he could hardly let go of the other man's hand when they finally got back to the flat the previous day, after the treatments.
Sybil Vain had brought hope back into his heart.
He could finally imagine having a decent life. So, even if the man's odd behavior creeped him out at times, Set didn't have the slightest intention to keep him at bay. He needed to find out why the man wasn't affecting him and if there was a way to actually get rid of his demon. He took a deep breath and walked to the living room.
With a book in his hands, Sybil rested comfortably on the white leather sofa. While his androgynous face was absorbed in the reading, the languid posture and curious clothing added to his already ethereal appearance. His long hair – left untied – lingered over the pillow in soft ivory waves. The golden embroidery on the hems of his white robe glimmered, reflecting the daylight. He looked like an elf that came straight out of a fantasy story.
As Set got closer to the sofa, Sybil lifted his gaze from the book and turned his head on the pillow. He stared openly at the boy, his eyes glinting as a satisfied smile curved his lips. The thought of God watching what He had made and being very pleased crossed Set's mind. Still, he pretended not to notice and sat by his feet.
Sybil laid the book on his belly and, stars still dancing in his eyes, kept his gaze on Set. The boy pictured himself lying over him just to get cuddled like a cat. He peeked at the book's title instead – How To Stumble On Your Prince Charming.
"I just don't get what you see in that kind of stuff," he muttered.
"This writer is good and reading her relaxes me." Vain's soothing voice drifted unperturbed to Set's ears.
"As if you need it," the boy commented, unconvinced.
"Ever since I met you, I have immense needs," Sybil quipped, his voice lingering and lowering on the last words.
Taken aback by the seducing tone, Set stiffened and looked away. The Oracle's soft chuckle brought his eyes right back. The boy frowned upon realizing he'd been teased. Still, he couldn't find any words of complaint in his quiet mind. He silently contemplated the other, entranced by his heavenly charm. Vain's features mellowed out when he laughed, dismissing his sobriety for a childlike purity that could make angels cringe in jealousy.
"Getting bored? Want to have a chat?" Sybil asked, looking up at Set. The long white eyelashes veiled his eyes while his fingers played with a strand of white hair.
Set peeled his gaze off of him and dumped it on his own hands, fidgeting in his lap. He had only two questions in his mind. Why didn't Vain's presence trigger his disorder? And what was the real reason behind the man's kindness?
Yet, he couldn't ask.
He didn't want to talk about his disorder in the first place. He'd always kept it to himself and certainly wasn't ready to explain about it.
As for the second question, since unconditional aid was fairy-tale stuff, he was afraid to find out he had been picked up to be a sex toy. That not only would've put him into a tight spot, but also ruined his idea of Sybil Vain as a godlike creature, turning him into a lowly human.
His heart tightened in his chest. He opened his hands and pressed his palms against the rough fabric of his jeans. As long as Sybil Vain didn't bring up the subject, Set had to figure things out from a different angle. He leaned back on the leather sofa.
"I want to know about the geezer," he said in a low voice. His eyes pointed up at the ceiling as his nape laid on the cool headrest. He didn't like this subject either, but if he wanted to clear things out he needed to start from somewhere. "How do you know each other? Did he help me because you asked him to?"
Vain's sigh was followed by the muffled sound of the book being placed upon the glass table. Set cast him a side-glance as the Oracle laid down again. The man rested his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. The whole situation felt oddly familiar and cozy. They were both improbably relaxed around each other.
"If you are talking about Isaac, I've known him for years. Well, ten, to be precise," he started in a low, controlled tone. "I give him some good predictions to get by and he covers for me in New York. So, basically, he takes care of some clients I've got no interest in meeting directly."
Realizing that Isaac's friendship was a sham, Set gritted his teeth. His fingers twisted the fabric of his jeans as he thought about kicking the old man's butt. Sybil's robe rustled as he sat back up and gently held Set's right wrist.
"Isaac met you long before I dreamt of you. He surely didn't know anything and I wasn't even looking for you at the time," he clarified.
Set's brows were still furrowed, but the warmth of Sybil's hand seeped through his skin, taming his restless heart. All anger blew away like the flame of a candle in the wind. "So, you really see the future?"
Sybil replied with a slow, clear nod.
"Why...?"
The Oracle chuckled softly and then shrugged. "Why not?"
Set couldn't understand that easy-going attitude. Seeing the future wasn't a normal thing. It didn't happen to everybody. There must have been a reason behind it and it couldn't be so easy to handle. Set had to struggle for years and still was in a borderline condition with his own disorder.
"How did it happen? When?" he pressed, his voice quivering.
As their eyes locked again, Sybil let go of the boy's wrist, but he shifted his posture. One leg folded as he sat over his foot, his knee touching Set's hip, while the other slipped out of his robe and hung from the sofa. He slid his arm over the sofa's back, his elbow stopping an inch away from Set's nape, and rested his chin on his hand. A mischievous smile hung on his rosy lips.
"You're up first," he replied smoothly.
At such a close distance, his low, warm voice made Set shiver.
"You still haven't told me what your problem is." Sybil slightly cocked his head to the side, playing the innocent look. "What do you see?" he asked, his dark eyes piercing through Set's soul.
The boy averted his gaze and shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Even if there were no side effects, the other man was still too close. No way he was going to talk about something so delicate when his brain was already doped with the exotic scent that filled his nostrils. At the moment, he could almost forget there was something wrong with him, and that's what he wanted to do. Forget about it. He snorted and ran a hand through his hair.
"Hey, man, I have no problems," he said defensively.
His voice came out harsher than he meant, but thanks to that he managed to look back at Vain.
Sybil's brow arched, but he didn't reply. The stars twinkling in his dark eyes seemed to shine stronger as he slipped his arm around Set's shoulders and pulled him closer. The boy didn't have time to react, and the next moment his head laid on Sybil's lap. The Oracle's gentle fingers brushed his forehead, and something inconceivable happened.
The vortex opened up in Set's mind.
The energy erupted within his body and flooded him completely. He was left paralyzed. Overwhelmed by the realization that Sybil Vain wasn't empty anymore. The thumping of his heart increased to a mad beat, pulsating in his every cell. His head was about to burst open as he squeezed his eyes shut and clawed the sofa's leather.
For a soothing moment, the energy stilled as Vain's left hand rested over the boy's chest. Set gasped in some cool air, drops of cold sweat forming on his skin. Then, he tried to sit back up, but the Oracle's hands pinned him down and the energy flow restarted.
Set panicked. He tried to get free, but his body was uncontrollable and responded in a spasmodic way as the firm hold kept him in place. The vortex expanded in his head. Pictures and sounds spinning and overlapping, carrying fragments of unknown conversations and scenes. Set squeezed his eyes harder and eventually gave up on fighting. The sound of his uneven breath submerged by the buzzing of countless voices as bitter tears streamed down his cheeks.
One of the visions sucked him in.
The next moment he found himself alone, sitting on a stone bench in the center of a silent garden. For the first time ever, the scene was clear and vivid. There was no overlapping, no confusion. No trace of the vortex carrying that chaotic mix of memories, faces and feelings. It was as if he'd entered another world.
He was in the courtyard of some monastery, his legs oddly smaller. He could sense the cool touch of the air brushing his skin, but he couldn't move at his own will. He stared at his little feet swinging down the bench, yet he didn't have any control. Fear and some sort of guilt filled his heart. Still, they didn't belong to him.
As he realized that he was in a child's body, the kid's eyes darted around nervously.
The garden was a Japanese one, quiet, clean and beautiful. The season painted it in warm shades of orange and red. An Asian man – wearing a Buddhist robe – came out from the porch. He crossed the gravel path and approached the bench.
"Hi Hira-chan, I'm Daijyo," he introduced himself with a reassuring smile as he sat beside the child.
"Hi Daijyo..." a wavering, innocent voice whispered.
"Did your mom tell you why you are here?" the monk asked patiently.
"It's...'cause I said some weird stuff," the child moped.
The monk gently patted his shoulder and gave him another smile. "No, you didn't." Despite his shaven head and hard features, his eyes were warm and understanding. His big hand stroked the child's back. "Seeing the future is an awesome thing, not something you have to fear or be ashamed of. Your mom asked me to take care of you because she wants to protect you from the people that don't understand it. She did it to help you. It's not a punishment," he said in a calm and clear voice.
The child's head flung toward the monk as his hands clutched the fabric of the man's robe.
"I didn't want to see it!" he yelled. Then he cast his gaze to the ground, ashamed. His hands let go of the cloth and rubbed his eyes. "My head hurts... I want to go back to my mom... Please..." he said in a smaller voice, trying to hold back the tears.
"Listen, Yukihira," the monk's voice grew serious. "I know that some people didn't like it. They got angry, thinking that you'd bring misfortune, and they told you it was your fault if something bad happened." He took a deep breath and held his rosary in his hands before he spoke again. "Those people, they've been trying to get you away from your mom and put you into some institute. That's why she made me your guardian."
The child looked up at him, but he bit his lip and shook his head as if he didn't want to hear.
"It might be difficult to understand now, but you'll be safe here. I'll take care of you." Daijyo took out his rosary and slipped it over the child's head.
A cold breeze swept them, making the child shiver.
"I know," he whispered. His small hands clutching the wooden beads as tears welled up in his eyes. "I know... But, still, I want to go back to my mom..."
Daijyo wrapped him in a warm embrace and let him cry against his chest. His weeping covered the whistling of the wind through the leaves.
As if a magic spell was cast upon them, the scene dissolved into white light, and a different scenery emerged in front of Set's eyes. The transition happened quickly, but in a simple and smooth way, nothing to do with the mess Set was used to.
He found himself in a huge room, with maroon walls and dark marble flooring, a line of columns on each side. Right in front of him stood a big Buddha statue, surrounded by burning incenses and flowers. Their scents mingled into a mindblowing exotic fragrance.
It seemed to be the interior of the monastery Set had seen during the previous vision. The very same monk—quite older though—sat cross-legged with his back to the altar. Set—still trapped in someone else's body—bowed down to him. He bent in over his white robe, long black hair slipping down his shoulders to touch the floor.
"Sybil Vain." The Oracle's familiar voice came straight out of Set's host as he sat back up. "I've chosen the name Sybil Vain," he clarified in a playful tone.
The old monk laughed heartily. "You do realize that's rather unusual, don't you?"
Sybil Vain didn't flinch. His heart was like a blank canvas on which the sunlight painted invisible words of love. Peace enveloped him and an inexplicable joy sprang and sparked from the depth of his being.
"Did you expect me to be back with an Indian name?" he teased.
"Are you still disagreeing with my decision to send you there for meditation? Were a few years too much to bear?" the monk countered, a playful light in his eyes. He then leaned forward and tilted his head to the side as he cupped his mouth with one hand. "Or did you finally realize who you are?" he whispered.
Sybil chuckled. "I'm not at all in disagreement. I've found the silence and the answer was there too." He closed his eyes and took an ecstatic breath. With that simple action, the sensation of peace, love and lightness amplified. "I'm the divine, manifesting through Sybil Vain as the Oracle." His deep voice resounded in the quiet room. Then, his hand delved into a white bag and picked out a yellow box. "So, I brought you a box of Nag-champa." He lifted the box and jiggled it between his fingers, the pleasant scent reaching up to his nostrils.
Daijyo burst out laughing so hard that his head flung back, while his hands patted his knees. He kept at it for at least five minutes, the laughter echoing in the silence of the monastery.
Sybil threw the box of incense straight to the monk's face. With a swift movement, Daijyo grabbed it in his hand, his face suddenly serious.
"You're still too young." His eyes had narrowed and darkened like two almond-shaped onyx, but the next moment they lightened up as if it had never happened. "Welcome home, Sybil Vain." A smile curved his lips and he bowed down to the point his forehead touched the floor.
"I also brought you a bronze dummy," the Oracle teased again, yet his voice sounded joyous and relaxed.
Daijyo chuckled. "I'm happy that you don't take things so seriously anymore."
"I don't." This time, it was Sybil's full laughter that filled the room.
Again the scene dissolved in a white mist and another scenery emerged. The setting was the familiar alley beside Caffè Palermo, the very same where Set used to sleep. While Isaac's carton laid at the backend, the old fortune-teller was nowhere to be seen.
Vito stood at the back door of the cafe. Set knew that the door connected directly to the storeroom and the Italian man took it when he needed to throw garbage out. As such, the man held a big black bag in his hands, but his face was grim. His lips were tightened in a hard line and his eyes stared nervously at the man in front of him. The other guy had a shark's face and dead eyes.
Set – again merged with someone else – looked at the two men, from a couple of meters back in the alley. Feeling the same peacefulness he experienced in the previous vision, he guessed he might be in Sybil's body again.
"Chi vo Raffae' (What do you want Raffae')?" Vito asked suspiciously as he glared at the shark-man.
"I've got a friend here that needs the family." Raffae's slick voice complimented his shady face.
"You know I'm out of it," Vito snapped back.
"A' Vituzzo, he's just looking for a maid and he's saved our ass." The shark's eyes narrowed to slits, but he spread his arms, showing his palms as if he wanted to make clear that he didn't mean any harm. "I'm asking to you, frati (brother), 'cause he's not like us. See? He wants nothing to do with our boys." He chuckled in a rough, unpleasant way.
Vito shook his head, but Raffae' raised his hand and kept on speaking.
"He's a good indovino (fortune-teller) and our Don likes him, do you understand?" He pulled a hard smile and breathed through his teeth. It made a weird sort of whistle, before the man's face turned dark. "He said he's got something to tell you about your future. He's a good guy, ain't he? In exchange, you help him. 'Na manu lava l'autra, frati (One hand washes the other, brother)."
As soon as he finished talking, he turned to Set's direction and, waving his hand, he called over—at this point Set was sure—Sybil Vain. As he approached, Sybil glanced at Vito's face. The man's jaw was clenched and a vein pulsated on his wide neck.
"Mister Caruso, I'm aware that you might not like to hear this news, but your wife and daughter are bound to die in a car accident. Soon," Sybil's familiar voice echoed ominously in the alley. The words came out slowly, as if they weighted too much. "If you agree to help me, I can tell you what we can do to save your daughter."
Vito's eyes widened before his hand flew to touch his balls. Set knew he was the superstitious kind of guy. Also, he got really pissed off at anybody who meddled with his family. The man's nostrils widened as he inhaled sharply while his eyes turned to slits.
"Tu si fùoddi, va trova stu lestu (you are nuts, go get yourself fixed)!" he barked, rage flaring in his words. "I know these tricks. You're trying to scare me, but that doesn't work here." He dropped the garbage bag and thumped his fist against his chest. Then, he waved his punch in the air. "My family is off limits to you, capisci (understand)? Stay away from them, or I'll kill you," he growled, his face turning red for the effort. Lastly, he faced the other Italian. "And you, Raffae', quannu a smetti è trùoppu tardu (when you cut it out is going to be too late). Irivinni (Leave), now!"
Before Set could see the end of it, the scene faded away. Another vision surfaced from the white mist.
Set found himself in the back seat of a taxi, running on a highway out of the city. His gaze – through Sybil's eyes – was glued to a red car about a hundred meters ahead. For some reason, the Oracle was staring at it and a slight sense of concern disrupted his usual peace.
After a few minutes, the view shifted to a huge truck coming from the opposite direction. Suddenly, the truck swerved. It crossed the divider, cutting through it like a knife with butter, and entered the other lane.
Sybil followed the scene as the truck ran against the tiny red car. The driver steered right to avoid the impact, but it was too late. The car was hit in the front left side. While the truck rode past it, the car spun around until it was left crumpled up in the middle of the road.
A few moments after, the truck's crazy ride was stopped too, by a lampost.
As the taxi approached, Set could see that the cockpit was intact and the driver seemed to have lost his senses. Instructed by Sybil's voice, the cab drove past it and pulled over at a safe distance, in between the two vehicles.
The red car laid less than a hundred meters ahead. Black smoke rose from the wrecked hood. The driver's side had been crushed.
The taxi driver cursed under his breath as he called 911.
Sybil's uneasiness grew, accompanied by a sudden urge to move and a hint of fear. His breath and heartbeat sped up as he got out of the taxi and dashed towards the red car. He almost tripped on his robe but kept running as he ripped one side of it with his hands.
Set could've bet that Sybil didn't have the temper, as well as the physique, to play the hero. He would've lost.
The Oracle approached the car from the passenger's side. He slipped on a couple of fireproof gloves, carefully stretched through the smashed glass and grabbed the door's handle. He pulled until it opened, sweat forming on his forehead because of the heat that wafted from inside. He stood back, took a deep breath and then crouched inside. The smoke burned his eyes, but he managed to keep them open.
At the sight of the driver, it was clear that the airbags hadn't worked. The woman was disfigured, crushed into a pulp of flesh and blood, but Sybil stayed sharp. He checked her pulse and called for her. There was no response. He finally turned his attention to the passenger seat.
Maria laid semi-conscious there. Smoke had already filled the cockpit and she was out of breath.
Sybil placed his lips upon hers, blowing in all the air remaining in his lungs. His eyes squinted, while he unbuckled her seatbelt and gently held her in his arms. Set knew that was against any safety procedure, but the Oracle didn't hesitate and pulled Maria out of the car.
He carried her to the roadside near the taxi. The taxi driver rushed to them and threw a blanket on the asphalt. Sybil carefully laid the girl on it and checked her pulse, from her wrist and jugular too. His eyes scanned every inch of her body to make sure that she didn't have any major injuries. Apart from some cuts and scratches, she seemed to be miraculously unscathed.
When the sound of sirens filled the air, Sybil turned his head to check on the car. It was a black carcass completely wrapped in flames and smoke. Maria burst into tears, drawing his attention back to her.
"Who are you? Where's my mom?" she wailed out.
Sybil bent over her. His hair slipped over her chest, the pristine white dimmed by the ashes. He leaned his forehead upon hers and closed his eyes. Fear and sadness pervaded his being, but as he took a deep breath they slowly dissolved into the peace of his heart.
"I'm Sybil Vain," he said in his serene, deep voice. He pulled back slightly, some sort of divine love filling his chest. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help your mother."
Maria's weeping grew stronger, her body shaken up by the sobbing. Her hands clung to Sybil's shoulders as she hid her face against his chest. He held her carefully in his arms.
When the paramedics came he had to let her go, but he kept by her side. They put her on the stretcher and got her in the ambulance. In the end, he was asked to leave. Her watery eyes widened, her lips trembling as she begged them to keep him there. They did. Soon after, under his caring gaze, she passed out.
Little by little an odd, delicious smell filled the ambulance. Sybil took a deep breath and moaned of pleasure. The sound echoed like it came from space and as it covered all the other sounds, the ambulance turned into a dark void.
Set's eyes flung open. He panted hard, his muscles aching as if he had run for miles and yet, he was still lying on the sofa. He blinked a few times as he glanced at Sybil's serene expression. The Oracle's hands gently stroked his hair. As their eyes met, Set's heart filled with relief. The familiar sense of peace pervaded his body, slowly melting out all the contractions. He inhaled, trying to slow down the rhythm of his breathing. His head turned toward the center of the room, following the smell of Italian cooking. His stomach growled.
"Maria made lasagne," Sybil's sweet voice whispered.
"What...the fuck..." Set exhaled as his gaze trailed back to Sybil. "Happened?"
"I've shown you a little part of my past." The Oracle bit his lower lip and his fingers plunged in Set's hair, stopping the pleasant stroking. For the first time ever he seemed uncertain. "Usually, I keep my mind empty and my energy under control, but this time I projected some of my memories."
Set's brows furrowed.
"I thought... That's what you saw, isn't it?" Sybil's eyes were clear night skies as usual, but a small wrinkle had formed in the middle of his brows. He retracted his hand and raising it, he glanced at the ring.
"I...guess so...?" Set muttered, staring at the living gold of the jewel.
"Unlike most of people, I can be a vessel devoid of any personal projection. That's why if you look inside of me you see nothing." Sybil's low voice sounded so close, even if the man's mind was miles away. "I can show you the Source, and that's what you call god."
Set's lips parted to speak, but he didn't know what to say. The Oracle's words were at the same time clear and vague, like a cloud he could see but couldn't grasp. The ring sucked in the boy's attention, turning his mind sluggish. It felt as if the jewel tried to tell him something. Something about the demon, that he needed to remember, but he couldn't. He squinted.
Sybil gently slipped the ring off his finger and placed it on the coffee table. "You know? As soon as my mind projects something personal, I'm in no way different from others."
He bent over again, his eyes stopped a few inches away from Set's, while his hands cupped the boy's cheeks. A cascade of ivory strands framed his beautiful face. "So, basically, I just wanted to let you know," he whispered and a crooked smile curved his lips.
Set swallowed back as Sybil's thumbs stroked his skin. The gentle touch felt hot rather than soothing. Set wanted to be mad at the man for the way he toyed with him, but he just couldn't find it in himself.
He pursed his lips. "You could've warned me."
Sybil chuckled. "If I did, you would've punched me."
"And I should have," Set stated as he grabbed Sybil's wrists to pull his hands away.
The other man didn't counter and his smile kept in place. As Set stared at the man's mystical eyes, his grip loosened up. The abyss' waters were still, crystal clear, pools of darkness and Sybil Vain was utterly white as he used to be. God was still there, empty again – ready to be his cure. As the realization dawned in him, relief filled Set's eyes with tears.
He let go of Sybil's wrists and covered his own face. Still, he couldn't stop the tears from running down his cheeks.
"I scared you, didn't I?" Sybil asked, his voice soft, yet heavy with concern. "I'm sorry, Set. I never meant to hurt you."
Set pressed his hands over his eyes and tried to calm down by breathing slowly, but it didn't work. Tears welled up more and more. It was the first time in decades that somebody said sorry to him.
"You scared me to death... And I can't even get pissed at you," he confessed in a trembling voice. More words poured out because he couldn't control the intensity of his own emotions. "I don't want to see it anymore... Please... Don't..." He didn't even know what he was asking for.
"I won't do it anymore, Set. I'll make sure you will have the best life you could imagine," Sybil replied confidently.
Then, the warm touch of his lips leaned upon the back of Set's hands.