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There was something there. He hadn’t noticed it at first, but it was there and he was afraid.
Fear was something for the man beneath. He wasn’t supposed to feel it, but he wasn't supposed to be better than that either. He was the one to carry the things the other, the better him, should not hold. It would’ve muddied him when he was so perfect as he was. Black and white. No gray. No space for gray, no want for gray.
Gray was for the man beneath and gray was the fear and that was… acceptable. As long as it stayed beneath, stayed with the mask during the days.
Why couldn’t it have stayed in the days?
Now conflictions we’re invading the perfect black and white, night and day, good and bad, right and wrong.
Dark skies faded into gray mornings as the little sleep he allowed himself evaded him. Thoughts, day thoughts, mask thoughts plagued him high above the streets, below the river. He grew agitated, started making mistakes. This was all wrong, it was supposed to be black and white, strictly that and nothing more and what he was thinking - both of him were thinking - was wrong. It was wrong. Wrong all over. Despicable. Disgusting. Wrong. Wrong.
The word became heavy on his tongue, stayed like a bad taste as he drifted off more and more. It was there, always there, never changed anything and he hated it for that, hated himself for it. This was wrong and it was true - but then again, opposite him sat someone rightful, righteous. Right. Good. And he couldn’t stop staring at those eyes, good eyes, trustful eyes, maybe had wandered lower, more than glad his own were concealed by the face. The face that was supposed to be black and white, never mixing, never gray, now so much more black as the blood rushed in beneath.
He was more than glad and wanted to rip it off, run away, apologise, because this felt filthying, muddying, it wasn’t supposed to be used for this, misused, misused, black and white, night and day, good and bad, right and wrong, so much more black as the blood rushed in beneath.
It couldn’t be wrong, it was respect, it was appreciation, it was admiration, it was, it was, it was-
It was wrong. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t it then, but all so right, felt so right, felt so good, felt so bad, tried to feel bad, failed to feel bad. It couldn’t be bad but it was but it wasn’t. Black and white, night and day, good and bad, right and wrong.
He was afraid. He was not supposed to be afraid, but he was.
This could ruin everything, ruin the perfection he had built, they had built together. Because it was functioning like that, functioning well and maybe functioning a little too well, he started thinking. He was going to corrupt the goodness fighting side by side with him every night if only just by looking at those well-placed punches for long enough. If he did something, made a move - whatever that move would be - in the wrong, no, in the right, no, in the wrong direction, it would destroy everything. If not the partnership, then it would destroy what the man opposite him was - or at least what he was supposed to be - good and right and maybe a little naive for believing the wrong things, but at heart still good, a good man and not this- this filthy - whatever it was. Filthy and wrong and even filthier the longer he kept thinking about it.
Yet he did keep on thinking about it for far too long, at far too inappropriate times. It did not help at the day job, it did not help when he tried to fall asleep and it certainly did not help when he was out on the streets with the other, so close to the other, or at the workshop with the other, so close, or in the ship, up in the air, no one else but them, so close, too close, very close. His mind was running wild and he didn’t remember having moved, but he must have because this was close, so very close, so very much too close, so very much too close to doing something wrong.
-
The black and white became more black as the blood came rushing in and still there was no gray. Everything stayed. Night and day. Good and bad. Right and wrong.
There was still a sense of more bad, more wrong, more black than anything, but maybe- maybe that was fine. Fine just like that.