He Will Cry
A/N: I said I'd write something happy next. I lied. ;) Quite some time ago, I saw the Future Tense Challenge (must find link), and wanted to do something for it - but couldn't think of anything until last night, ironically breaking a spell of Writer's Block.
As a toddler, he will learn to run – and run fast, too fast, falling and scraping his knee. He’ll cry, but his aunt will pick him up, murmuring reassurances, telling him he’s a brave boy. He’ll sniffle, and hold it in, because he is a brave boy.
He will tell his uncle that he hates him because he won’t tell him about his father, and then run into his room and cry. He’ll cry for the father he doesn’t know, for telling the closest thing to a father he has that he hates him. He’ll stop, eventually, come out and apologize. And for a moment, his aunt will smile – because this young blond-haired boy they’ve taken in has taken both their hearts, and because she wishes nothing more than for the two of them to have this closeness.
He’ll take the teasing at school in stride, glaring and muttering under his breath. He won’t protest when his best friend, Biggs, quietly takes the teasers out for a talk, and they come back cowed. He won’t tell his friend when they tease him anyway, out of Bigg’s sight. They’ll tease him about being an orphan, and not wanted by his own aunt and uncle. They will tease him about wanting to be a great pilot. He will hold in the tears until he goes home, because he knows that there, he can cry.
He’ll cry without shame over the bodies of his aunt and uncle. They will come hot and fast, the showing of his great pain. Yes, he will feel pain. He will cry for what he’s lost and never realized he had. He’ll cry because if he hadn’t gotten that one droid, they would be alive. And he will cry ... because now he can leave, and never look back.
After the celebration, completely sloshed due to his new friend’s influence, he will cry for the dead. He’ll do it alone, and think about how little he really knows – because he didn’t know that adventure would be like that. He’ll tell himself, firmly, that he’ll cry for his friends, when they die. But he will not cry until then.
He’ll cry when his father tells him who he is. He won’t at first, dry-eyed and shocked, and then it will come in great wracking sobs, and he’ll wonder if he’s crying over his best friend, his father, or his lost innocence. He’ll cry in rage and betrayal. But he’ll pick up and move on.
He will cry when his father dies looking into his eyes. He’ll know that he’s the only one grieving, and he’ll give those tears gladly.
When he loses himself to the Dark, he’ll cry in remorse.
He’ll cry when his students die.
When he is left alone again, he will cry.
When he marries, he will not cry, except for one tear, which he reserves solely for her; because she will see his weakness, and still see him.
On what he knows could be her deathbed, he will cry. He’ll think of all the tears he’s shed, all of the tears that will come. He will think of the meaning of his crying, and wonder if it is punishment, that he weeps so.
He will cry when his son is born.
He’ll cry when he dies. As his son will shed tears, he will shed his own. But it will be the rarest of tears, mixed joy and pain. He will know his time has come.
He will die, and then he will know no more tears.
You will cry, child, when I tell you this. You will cry, dear mother, for your son. My words will torment you and reassure you. You will wonder who I am, some strange woman in the market telling you this of the child you carry. But you will think of my words, and when you die, you will think of your son, and know that he will be all right.
You will think of your husband, of the paths he will take, to cause your son to cry.
I will tell you not to fear; I will not fear. For when I tell your dark husband of these things, he too will cry.
And all will be as it will be.