Early morning comes far too soon. It doesn’t even feel like he’s slept. Although part of that could be because he’s still dressed. Including his shoes in the bed. The languid kicks take time to push the cover off so he can roll onto his back. Zye stares up at the ceiling with nothing but contempt. Today already feels like one of those days.

Flailing out his arm, he intends to scoop up his phone off the bedside table. Except, the device isn’t there. A groan cracks out from a dry throat. “Dammit.”

It means he might as well get up. Swinging his legs over the side, Zye makes for the couch first. He knows it’ll either be there or on the table. Every step feels like he’s dragging cinder blocks behind him. It makes it an even slower process to amble to the kitchen and gingerly place the device on the charging station once he’s found it.

“Stupid technology…” he grumbles as he fills a glass with water. Taking his medicine, he glances over to see the little green light flicker back on. It wasn’t dead, just managed to turn itself off. Even better.

Zye sips at his water as he flicks the screen on and begins to comb through the messages. That is until he sees it, a single missed voicemail. He lifts it closer to his ear and leans over the sink. He swirls the water in the glass as he waits for the message to start.

“Zye, this is Dr. Len. When you get this message call me— or just come to the hospital since I’m sure you will. Lyra’s condition has worsened. I want you to be here in case something happens.” There’s noise in the background. The mumbling of a nurse he’s speaking with and trying not to let leak into the message. “Please be careful on your way.”

The glass clatters into the sink: clacking and tinkling as it tips and turns. Water splashes up onto the front of his shirt while he tries so hard not to drop the phone. But he can’t hold it any longer. It’s what gave him such a horrible message. He doesn’t want to touch it.

It slides across the counter back toward the charger. Not that it registers in his mind. Everything is starting to feel small, shrinking, and collapsing in on him without any reprieve. His chest is tight as he grips the counter’s edge. Knuckles grow white while knees turn to jelly. Zye hits the floor. His knees sting with the impact sparking up through his thighs. Yet, he doesn’t feel it. Not past the fire in his chest from trying to breathe.

Deep in through the nose.

Slow exhale from the mouth.

His forehead presses against the cabinet with hands finally letting go to fall into his lap. He licks at his lips, trying to do anything to resume normal functions. “I can’t…just sit here. She needs me.”

It’s the only thing he can do, pushing this fear and dread to the very back of his mind. He draws urgency to the forefront and acts on it. In one way, he’s glad he’s still dressed. It makes it easier to grab his things and bolt back out the door. It slams behind him well after he’s already started skipping steps to get to the first floor as quickly as possible.

He stops beside his bike and inwardly curses the shaking fingers making it hard to start the damn thing. Zye combs his hands up through his bangs, trying in vain to push them back and out of his face. At this point, he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Slow down,” he tells himself.

Getting angry and not being careful won’t help anything. Zye takes a couple of breaths, climbs on the bike, then speeds off into the traffic of the early morning. He hates the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket. He’s not sure who is calling him, but he has an inkling. One that he doesn’t like either, not when he knows he’s probably right.

The only one that should be calling him right now is Dr. Len.

Park. Look both ways before crossing. Try not to get too close to anyone as he rushes up to the desk. The young man there smiles sweetly at Zye, one of the nurses that he sees frequently. That smile dims into a gentle concern as he holds up his finger.

“Just one moment.”

It takes everything he has not to scream that he doesn’t have a moment. He’s wasted enough time as it is.

The man turns back to him, keeping his voice calm and low. “Dr. Len is waiting for you in his office.”

Zye can only give him a nod. Words will dig a hole and bury him in it. He’s careful to slow down when others are coming down the hallway. Otherwise, he’s sprinting there. He barges into Dr. Len’s office the second he’s in front of it.

Dr. Len swivels in his chair and stands. He rolls the chair around then gestures for Zye to take it. They both know he won’t do anything of the sort. The older man starts with a sigh, realizing this won’t be easy in the slightest. He steps around Zye and holds the doorknob.

“I’m so sorry, Zye. We did everything we—”

“When?”

“It’s only been a little over twenty minutes.”

Around the time it’s taken him to get here. That fact has Zye choosing to stare at the floor. It’s as if there’s a ball in his throat he can’t swallow past. He can’t force it up either. He’s stuck in the silent agony of his thoughts.

“We’ll talk after. For now, go see her. I’ll meet you there shortly, but take all the time you need.”

A hand pats his shoulder. He doesn’t feel it, a ghost of a touch to someone not staying grounded in reality. All Zye can do is turn and walk out. His feet know what to do. They carry him down the halls and past other visitors. Glances and shushes to the children he passes don’t bother him today. He finds it hard to pay attention and not bump into anyone as it is.

He doesn’t care to get out of their way either. They can move out of his way for once.

The door is closed and so hard to open. The knob is cold against his clammy palm. It sends a chill up his arm as he turns it, slipping into the room. He shuts the door as if it’s made of glass; gentle, slow, and full of care. Letting go of the knob is the hardest part.

Prepared for this? Of course. Does it make it any easier? It makes it worse. It means the outcome can’t be changed no matter how hard anyone tried.

His jaw is burning, daring to lock up from how hard he’s been gritting his teeth together. Nails tap against the metal before he finally pulls away. Zye turns and walks over to the bed like he’s done hundreds of times before.

There’s turmoil inside of him, churning up like a storm out over the ocean. It’s just waiting patiently. It’s gathering energy and preparing to erupt. It’s waiting for him to reach out and take her hand. Small, slender fingers are wrapped in his larger hands. He squeezes her hand, wishing she would respond in kind like she always would.

But nothing comes.

Nothing, but the slow fall. He sits on the bed, folding over as holds onto her hand. He spares one of his own to cup his face. Zye tries to stifle it, push it down and not give in to the pain. Now isn’t the time— not that he’s given a say in it.

Lips part, yet no sound comes out. The silent wail catches in his throat as he brings his hand over his eyes, catching the tears that spill over. He can’t do it any longer. Her fingers slip from his for the last time as he stands, stumbles, and ends up leaning onto the chair near her bed.

On his knees, he crumbles against the seat. Zye glares at the wall; hates and despises everything about it. It doesn’t matter if it helped her live longer. Not when she’s gone and there’s nothing he can do to bring her back.

Aisa’s words ring in his ears.

They drive the nail in deeper.

Zye sits there for quite a while. Bit by bit, small whines and moans die down to hushed, shaky breaths. Noises he didn’t even know were his. The sobs remain pushed past his throat and the pain isn’t flaring in his chest. A dull ache, a stone that’s settled into its new home. The tears are drying up for now. He rubs at the tracks on his face only to wince at how his eyes hurt already.

Dragging his hands up over his countenance, he refuses to make a noise. No sighs or loud breathing. Anything can set it off again. It’s like walking on eggshells around his own emotions.

His knees wobble as he stands. Legs feel numb from how long he was in one position. Eyes dare to glance back at Lyra and he knows he can’t just leave. He can’t do that to her no matter how badly it hurts or has those salty tears stinging his eyes again. Leaning over her, Zye closes his eyes and presses a kiss on her forehead. Fingers brush away some hair from her face as he pulls away.

He swallows hard past the returning lump in his throat.

It takes even longer for him to make it out of the room, knowing very well that this is the last time. He’s not surprised to see Dr. Len standing outside. The man is leaning against the wall with a white paper bag in his hand. There’s a thought in the back of his head wondering how long Dr. Len has been here.

“I’ll take care of everything. I want you to go home and rest. I’ll call a ride—”

“I can make it home.”

“Zye, let me do this for you. I’ll even personally bring your bike back.”

“I can handle it. What did you want to talk about?”

He’s not getting anywhere and he can’t force Zye to do anything. Perhaps, he doesn’t want to push too hard. Not right now even if he should. Instead, he holds out the bag so Zye can grab it. “Your test results weren’t the best so I’m adjusting you to this strain instead. Don’t even worry about anything you have leftover from the other.”

Zye resists the urge to mention that he’s missed taking it now and then. It takes a bit of energy to meet Dr. Len’s eyes. “Why do we even bother?”

“I told you I’d help you no matter what. It’s the least I can do for Vega. Please, let me help you. I put in some information on the program we talked about. We can discuss it next time you come in.”

Dr. Len can see Zye is disconnecting from the conversation— he wants out of this. He lets out a small sigh from his nose and steps away from the wall. He places a hand on Zye’s arm. “If you need anything, call me.”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks for everything.”

Being polite is so hard right now that Zye is practically vibrating to get away from the situation entirely. Zye turns on his heel the second that Dr. Len’s hand falls away. His strides might be a bit too fast for a hospital but no one says a word.

It’s a whirlwind of nothingness that clouds his mind. He doesn’t particularly recall putting the meds in the stowaway compartment or even driving home. It takes him a bit of time. He doesn’t want to go back and takes all of the longest ways to do so. By the time he stops the bike in a parking space, he’s exhausted.

He’s in the deep end of a pool of emotion and he’s not treading water well at all. It’s weighing him down and it feels like he’ll drown if he goes home. He pockets the keyring as he slips off the bike. Just as he’s about to turn and start walking, he stops. The sudden vibration has him fishing out his phone and clicking it on.

“Yeah?”

“Hey! Guess who just got the day off? This guy!”

Shae’s voice is far too bright and warm for Zye to handle. He outwardly flinches at the volume, holding the speaker portion away from his face.

“So, did you talk to your boss yet? If it’s good news you should come by and we’ll celebrate. Ya know what, fuck that. Who cares, come over and we’ll just hang out like—”

“I can’t,” he says with a crack in his voice.

“Zye? What…you know what I’ll just come to you. Are you home?”

He glances over at the building. “Yeah.”

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

The signal goes dead and for a moment Zye does think about walking away. He’s not sure being around Shae is the best idea. He just wants to vanish and curl into a hole. But that’d mean Shae and Callua would be hunting him down. That’s not worth it either. Doing nothing is just as good.

Zye ambles over to the door, moves a few feet down the wall, and sits. He draws his knees up and grabs onto them. Each breath is shaky as it enters and leaves. Eyes refuse to close for long save for blinking. He stares out over the parking lot with little care. There’s no focus. At best, he’s trying not to think about anything.

Except time moves at a snail’s pace like that. It feels like eons have passed by the time Shae is pulling up in his dented-up truck. He doesn’t bother parking it correctly since he’s the last in the lane next to Zye’s bike. Instead, he’s more worried about getting out, grabbing a backpack, and running over to Zye.

He doesn’t do anything but squat down, leveling his eyes with Zye’s. “What happened?”

The serious tone is so rare. It commands Zye to answer. “Mom died this morning.”

Shae doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t do much either considering Zye’s dislike for prying eyes. This is why he stands and extends a hand, helping Zye up to his feet. He makes Zye go in first so that he can follow behind— best to be safe when his friend looks like he’s been hit by a train.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes them to get to the apartment much less inside. He’s just glad to have Zye on the couch. The second he is, Shae sets the backpack down on the ground. “Anything you need me to get from your bike?”

“Meds.”

“Key?”

Zye fishes it out of his pocket and tosses it to Shae. The blond is a blur of motion leaving and returning before Zye can even process a bit of it. The bag is left on the kitchen counter with the key while Shae returns to Zye with two glasses. He collapses onto the couch next to him and pulls out a bottle from the backpack.

The glass clinks onto the tabletop. “Supervised, you can have some. But nothing more than we usually would, got it?”

Shae looks over at Zye and isn’t surprised not to get an answer. He pours them both a glass of clear liquid. Zye wants to ask what it is or where Shae got it from. Surely from his stash of more expensive liquors. Not that he cares right now.

Instead, he takes the offered glass and begins to sip at it. Once he’s gotten some of it in him is when Shae begins to try to open him up. “Is there anything you need to do?”

“No. Doctor has it covered.”

“I can make you anything you want to eat if you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m fine.”

Silence settles in and it has Shae shifting nervously. He downs the rest of his glass, knowing full well he shouldn’t. “I’m really sorry, Zye. I’m here no matter what you need, you just say the word. Hell, don’t say anything I’ll do it anyway.”

Zye stares into the liquid. He wishes it would give him answers or at least get him tipsy. Shae is too much of a lightweight to keep up with him. Not while all he wants is to sleep and he knows he can’t.

“I don’t have a lot in the fridge right now.”

“Then we’ll order out. I know the best place. Good food and for a damn good price, too!”

While Shae takes his phone out and begins to order, Zye tosses his onto the table. He doesn’t want to touch it any more than he has to. Leaning back against the cushions, he stares up at the ceiling. The tears try to well back up despite the effort to blink them away.

“Shae?”

A hum reaches his ears. Shae finishes paying for the order before pouring a bit more into their glasses.

“Thanks.”

Shae sits back as well. Shoulder-to-shoulder, Shae gives him a little more of a bump to his. He doesn’t want to push the contact, but he does want to initiate the fact that it’s okay. Shae knows how badly this must hurt to have Zye actually respond in kind. He sinks a little further down so that his head can lull over, resting up against Shae’s.

“It’ll be okay.”

Zye lets those words wrap around his vibrating thoughts. Lets the nonsense calm him down no matter how much he knows it’s a lie. It won’t be alright. Nothing will be. Lyra is dead and he’ll be following in her footsteps. But for right now— sure— it’ll be okay.

________________________

It doesn’t feel like he’s slept. Physically he feels alright. Mentally he wants to tug the blanket back up over his head.

Zye isn’t entirely sure how he even got to bed or when. He recalls drinking and eating enough while they watched something he won’t ever recall. Shae passed out at one point although he must have gotten back up. He’s not sure when he, himself, did. It’s more impressive that Shae managed to carry him back here.

Or did he?

His head hurts as he rolls onto his side, staring at the slightly ajar door. He can hear voices if he focuses hard enough. They’re trying to be quiet, but he knows they’re there. It’s calming in its own way. To the point where he lies there not bothering to get up yet.

Out in the kitchen, Shae is exasperated. He rubs the back of his neck. “I really don’t even want to leave. I can probably get someone to cover my shift, but I need to tell Boss what’s happened. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Callua leans against the sink. “My plans can be changed easier than yours. Go. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Shae sighs heavily. “I appreciate it. Glad you came by, really. I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t just leave him alone.”

“I understand. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. And don’t hesitate if you need to contact me either.”

“Thanks again.” Shae yawns, stretches, and makes for the door. “It was nice meeting you, too. There’s plenty of leftovers if you want to have at it.”

She nods and waits for the door to shut. Once it does, she shakes her head. A mess is before her. It’s always something happening somewhere. Not a single day where she’s not worried about one thing or another. This is why she’s almost grateful to have a tangible mess to clean up. Between the dishes and the trash across the table, she’s happy to have something to stay busy with.

Not that it takes her very long at all. Callua does try to be as quiet about it as one can be. Regardless, she has the apartment picked back up as if the two men hadn’t made the living area into a pigsty the night before. The amount of time that has passed earns her curiosity.

Zye isn’t up and moving yet.

Callua scoops up the bag of medicine and retrieves the unopened bottle. A quick read proves he needs this now whether he’s up or not. No matter what’s happened, he still has to take care of himself. A good excuse to check in on him, too.

With a glass of water in one hand and the pill bottle in the other, Callua makes for his room. She nudges the door open further only to have her eyes lock with his. “Hey. Morning.” She stops at the bed’s edge. “Been up long?”

He glances away and sits up when he sees what she’s carrying. Wordlessly, he takes them both from her one at a time. Bottle opened, pill out, glass in hand, and then finally downing it. Callua takes them back to sit next to the lamp she flicks on. Her knees bump up against the bed as she reaches out, one hand brushing through his bedhead.

“I’m so sorry about Lyra.”

Zye leans forward, allowing her to guide him to have his forehead against her. Arms are limp at his side. He can’t muster the energy to move them yet. Much less fathom how kind she is to not pull away. To stay there and pet his hair, urging the feelings to come out and be dealt with.

“It’s okay, to not be okay.”

Something clicks. The words unleash the dam. They break it down and let all the feelings rush out. He tugs himself toward her in one fluid motion. His cheek presses to her side and buries against his arm as they wrap around her waist, holding onto her for dear life. It’s the best he can do to muffle the wail that leaves him.

The sound has goosebumps rising— a stab reaching deep into her gut— tears prickling at the corners of her own eyes.

The agony is a volcano in the pit of his being. It’s erupting and forcing the noise and the tears up and out. There’s no stopping them as the pain overflows from him. All the while she’s coaxing it out and simply standing there.

She doesn’t say a word. No petty statements or empty phrases. She’s simply there with one hand on the back of his head and the other rubbing at his shoulder. There’s no tug to pull away or even regret in engaging to begin with.

Callua simply stares down at him, watching as he fractures into a million pieces. Pieces she wishes she could pick up and put back together for him. Instead, she does the best she can. Her eyes close as she dismisses all of the thoughts from her mind as well as all of the worry and fear for him.

Life is too difficult sometimes.

Too fragile.

And far too much at one time.

It urges her own emotions to try and surface, but she shoves them down. This isn’t about her and her pains. It’s about her dear friend. It’s one of the few reasons that she stands there no matter how long it takes for him to calm down. Or how many tears he has to shed.

Callua knows the second that he’s worn himself out and has had enough. His arms slack and his face begins to pull away. She lets him take his time for the most part. Once he’s sitting back up, she tussles his tangled hair.

“How about you go get a shower? Take as long as you need. I’ll get you a little something to eat in the meantime.”

The nod she gets hurts more than seeing red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Not having him be talkative is the hardest thing. She can only imagine how exhausted he is. Callua takes his arm as he goes to stand up, giving him a bit of help before he walks away. She lets him leave first and shut the bathroom door before she moves.

There’s a thought entering her mind. One she groans at and knows she can’t ignore any longer. The second she decides to handle it, there’s a knock on the door. For a moment she thinks it’s him— not that she’d ever take him to be that bold. Not when he has no place to, that’s not how he does things.

Callua hurries over and opens it to see Xerxes. A wave of relief washes over her. “You’re just who I wanted to see!” She grabs at his wrist and tugs him inside past her. “Okay, I’ll be right back. It won’t take me but a second.”

“Is something wrong?”

She bobs her head a little as if trying to find the right way to say it. “Zye is in the shower, I just need you to keep an ear out in case he gets out before I get back. His mom passed away yesterday and I could use your help to keep his mind somewhere else. Alright?”

Xerxes nods. “O-okay.”

“Good boy,” she says with a pat on his head. “Now if he does just tell him I stepped out for a second. I haven’t left alright?”

Another nod from him and she allows herself to slip out. The door shuts before she’s speed-walking toward the stairwell. The slight heels of her slip-ons click and clack on the stairs in hurried succession. Halfway down she stops. There stands Jace in all of his stoic glory, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed.

He turns his head, dark brown hair shifting against his cheeks as he does. The gray cloak covers most of him as he stands there. The large metal clasp keeping it together over his shoulders shifts when he uncrosses his arms, sliding further down past his collarbone. The fact that he’s not trying to appear in more normal attire tells her he’s not sticking around. That there has to be something happening.

She slows to a stop. It’s unusual to see him without his hair up at that, meaning he must have just come from home. “I’m not doing anything today. I have something to take care of.”

“The human?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Right, sorry.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “And what if I said I need you for this mission?”

“I’d say you’re out of luck.”

Jace pushes away from the banister. One hand clasps onto it, fingerless gloves cinching at the wrist as he does. The other hand gestures outward. “You’d let one human tip our plans?”

Callua huffs. “We both know you’re stronger than me. All I do is heal your dumb ass when you’re hit. Which wouldn’t happen if you’d slow down.” She shakes her head. “This can’t be why you came all the way here. What’s really going on, Jace?”

His eyes cut to the side. Weight shifts from one black boot to the other. Suddenly he’s reaching up to fuss with tying the yellow cloth around his forehead, pushing most of his hair up and out of his face. She watches carefully, knowing full well whatever is going on is enough to make him anxious.

“Things are moving already. Be careful about where you go and who you deal with. They know that Charm is watching, trying to get attention to this. I don’t want you caught up in it.”

“It’s fine. I’m not stupid enough to put myself in that position.”

“There’s been others, too. Even Orion has been sighted.”

“The lord coming down from his castle? That’s a surprise.”

Jace shoots her a glare. “This isn’t a joke. Be careful. I can’t get you out of trouble if it means showing my hand.”

Callua spins around, intending to leave. She takes two steps back up before stopping. She knows it’s a lie. He would, he can’t help it. “You shouldn’t worry so much. Why not go relax for five minutes before you lose it?”

Their eyes meet. Orange and silver; like oil and water. His lips draw out into a thin line. He’s done with the conversation and caring. For a moment even she isn’t sure what it is. Is he angry at her for slacking off and putting other things first? Frustrated that things aren’t going his way? Or perhaps jealous that she has an escape from the reality of their situation…?

“Have fun with your friends then.”

She sticks out her tongue at him. “I will.”

It takes everything she has not to follow after him. Choosing between him and Zye? Not the easiest thing to do. But for now, she has to. It’s not like she knows how to fix everything from Jace hating this situation to the safety of everything and everyone. She can only help so much.

He’s not the only one that needs her.

This is why she’s bounding back up the steps with her long ponytail swaying behind her. She’s happy to get back into Zye’s apartment before he even knows she’s stepped out. The second she shuts the door, Xerxes is perking up. He stands from the couch and moves toward her.

“Everything okay?”

She smiles sweetly at him. “Yup, everything is fine. Hey, why not pick out something we can do to keep his mind busy right now. Maybe something…mindless or where he could watch and we can just talk about it.”

“I’ll be right back then.”

Callua finds it adorable how he runs off back to his place to gather up whatever he thinks will work. So sweet and kind, she’s glad that Zye has him when she can’t be around. Of which, she strides up to his bedroom door and gives a knock. The lack of running water confirms he must already be out.

“You doing okay?”

The door opens. Stepping into her line of sight, Zye continues to dry his hair. “I heard voices.”

“It’s just Xerxes.”

“Ah, okay. That’s fine.”

He’s not sure what to say as he lets the towel rest over his head. Even this much is draining. It helps that he grabbed the first clean clothes he could see; a pair of jeans and a crop top with a hood. Nothing seems important at the moment. A solid reason why he ambles out to the living room.

Callua scoffs as she sees him sit there, staring at the dark screen. She strides over and takes the towel from his head. “How about I let you eat whatever horrible meal you want instead of cooking?”

“Sure. My card is in my wallet—”

“Ah-ah! No, no. I got this.”

She steps away just as Xerxes bursts back into the apartment. Of course, the second he sees them both standing there he turns a little sheepish for making such an appearance. He shuts the door with the utmost care before hurrying over to Zye. The latter glances up at him.

“Hey, kid. How’d the test go?”

“Good. I remembered the trick you taught me.”

As Xerxes nears the couch, Zye glances over at Callua. “Just order the usual.”

The request has her shaking her head. Of course, that’s what he wants, the greasiest pizza in the whole city. Not that she can disagree. It is good and a reason to give them a second alone. She steps away and heads to the kitchen to call it in. Something he’d usually tease her about considering it’s easier to place it through their site.

Once she’s gone, Xerxes is next to Zye. He sits on the couch but keeps his distance at first. He’s unsure what to do or say. All he can think of is to place the case on the table. “I thought we could try it, all three of us. It’s just a board game.”

“Sure.”

“Zye?” Xerxes looks up at him, waiting for those eyes to gradually shift toward him. “I’m sorry for your loss. I…I’m here for you.”

It helps melt the weariness from his shoulders for a moment to have Xerxes here. He’s like a soft breeze in spring. He tussles Xerxes’s hair, one large hand on the crown of his head. “Thanks, Xerxes. That means a lot.”

Xerxes partially turns with a serious expression. “I mean it, though. I know I can’t do much but I’m right down the hall.”

Hand still on Xerxes’s head, Zye keeps him steady as he leans forward. He taps their foreheads together with the slightest touch. “How about you get that started up? Let’s see if we can beat Callua’s uncanny luck. Unless you’re regretting the game already.”

“What are you two scheming?”

Zye ruffles Xerxes’s tresses once more while he pulls away. He slinks further onto the couch. “Nothing. Hope your ass is ready to lose.”

She raises a brow at him. “Oh? Okay, game on. Just for that, I’m not going easy on you.”

The atmosphere slowly begins to shift. The only problem is that time doesn’t slow much less stop. Before either of them know it they’ve eaten their late lunch and played for far longer than any of them can believe. Regardless, the smallest bit of peace amid the storm can do wonders.

Unfortunately, Xerxes doesn’t want to bring any more problems than Zye already has. He glances at the time and promptly stands up. He slips between where Callua and Zye are sitting on the couch to the other side of the table. Xerxes gives them both a smile.

“I have to get back but I can come by after school tomorrow.”

Zye waves. “Don’t worry if you can’t, focus on school. You’re too close to mess up now.”

“R-right. See you later.”

He leaves in a small flurry of movement. Once he does, Callua is glancing at Zye. She shoots him a look, trying to gauge how he’s feeling. The sensation of being looked at doesn’t go unnoticed. Zye stares at the black screen, wishing there was still something on it to distract him further.

“If you need to go, it’s fine.”

“It’s not. Losing someone isn’t easy.”

“Life doesn’t stop moving just because I’m sad. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

She pushes herself up, fingers gripping at the cushion. “I’ll be back in the morning, afternoon at the latest.”

“I’ll still be here.”

Callua takes a deep breath as she stands. She hesitates a moment before swooping in to give him a tight hug. She ends it with a pat on the top of his head. “I love you, okay? I’ll be back soon but if you need anything please send me a message or call me.”

“I promise.”

She already regrets answering the call to go meet with Jace. But she knows he wouldn’t have called for her if he didn’t need something— if something wasn’t going wrong. At the same time, Zye does seem to be mellowing down. The exhaustion looks like it’s settling back in.

It’s childish to think she can be here for him every hour of the day. That’d be overbearing, she’s sure. This is why she decides to give him space and make for the door. As much as she doesn’t want to, she gives him a small wave, blows him a kiss, and slips out.

For a moment…everything is fine.

Then the silence sets in and it’s deafening.

Zye slowly pulls his feet up onto the couch. Long legs bend to draw his knees against his chest. He runs his hands up over his face and tries to breathe. That much is hard enough to do as it is.

“Fuck.” He grounds out through gritted teeth. Seven more of the same follow before he throws his head back, biting back a hollowed-out scream. Not that he’d care if he disturbs any neighbors at this point.

His mind won’t stop reeling now that they’re gone. There’s nothing to stop it and he doesn’t know what to do. The storm is brewing again, assisted by the memories that crawl along the walls and floor. Everywhere he looks he sees her— hears her.

It’s like he’s suffocating.

There’s only one thought that’s louder than all the others.

Can’t stay here, need to get out.

Even if it’s only for a few minutes. Zye is up and moving for the door. He scoops up his keyring, wallet, and phone. The backs of his sneakers fold in as he steps into them in a desperate attempt to hurry. He hops from foot to foot until they slide on all the way. Once that’s done and the door is locked behind him, he’s moving. Breathing gets a little easier with each step. The rising panic dwindles as well.

The way people look at him or step around him doesn’t bother him today. If he cared he would have worn a pair of glasses. Even still, he can’t seem to keep his chin held high to make them think it doesn’t affect him. Zye simply walks behind the groups and keeps his pace slow.

There’s no destination in mind to begin with so why hurry?

Zye only makes it a couple of streets with his hands in his pockets. The convenience store at the corner gives him pause. He knows he shouldn’t go too much farther than that. He still has to walk back. There are dull aches in his lower back that say he shouldn’t have left in the first place. A selfish ploy for distractions.

Turning on his heel, he huffs. He’s only irritated with his own mind and how at odds it is with itself. So much so that he doesn’t even notice the presence behind him until they’re running into each other.

He frowns down at the shorter man, hoping a single glance of two-toned eyes will send him scurrying. Yet…the opposite happens.

“Terribly sorry for that. Are you alright?”

The man takes a step back with a smile on his thin lips. Yellow eyes gaze up at Zye under the long sweep of dark-brown bangs across the left side of his face. He flicks the braid of hair over his shoulder to where it surely goes past his waist.

“Ah, I remember you. How have you been?”

Zye hesitates, quite openly so at that. His brows narrow and his eyes squint. It’s not the first time someone has acted…friendly. Yet, wouldn’t he remember someone like this? He has the memories of all those that he took on as customers when he tried doing it on his own. This guy doesn’t fit any of their descriptions.

Nothing is coming save for a small itch of memory long since past and he doesn’t want to be here long enough to find out why.

“Sorry buddy, you got the wrong guy.”

He’s about to shoulder past the man when a hand presses against his torso. Fingertips touch the hem of his shirt while the rest of the man’s palm connects with his skin. It has a tingle dancing along his stomach and chills shooting up his spine.

“That saddens me. My name is Hax, remember me now?”

For a moment, his memory frazzles. It splinters and reconnects. He does remember this man. At least somewhat. The strange name elicits something. He’s seen him before, talked to him, and even introduced him to his mother. How could he forget someone that stands out so much?

The sleeve of Hax’s white-button-up crumples around his elbows as he relaxes his stance. Zye peers down at him and tries to rip some shreds of memory from the corners of his mind. He does recall a man such as Hax dressed in a fine suit, not unlike the attire he has now, coming to his aid.

Zye cares less for the looks people shoot them and more about the hand moving to his arm. Hax gives him a pat, urging Zye to walk with him. “Come, talk with me. It’s been a while.”

“Look,” he starts as he begins to walk back to his apartment, “I don’t remember you that well. So if I screwed you over somewhere, today isn’t the day to mess with me.”

Hax laughs at that. “Still not a charmer are you? You should smile more, maybe people wouldn’t be as afraid of you.”

Zye shoots him a glare.

“Ah, see! Like that. It’s probably why you got into all those fights. The time I interrupted it I didn’t think you’d make it much longer. Six to one isn’t fair.”

The pieces are tingling, wanting to reconnect. He does remember that. Yet…that was so long ago— one of the several memories that usually pops up to haunt him at night. Sixteen years in fact but this man looks the same. That smile looks the same. The smile that shone down on him as he was picked up into the man’s arms, carried away as he lost consciousness.

“I can handle myself just fine.”

“Very brave to say. But strength doesn’t come from bravado, do well to keep that in mind.”

Hax slips his hands into his pockets as they walk. He keeps up with Zye, not minding that Zye picks up the pace. Obvious enough to say he doesn’t care to reunite with his once upon a time savior. Not when he doesn’t know why or what Hax wants. He just doesn’t have time to entertain this man.

“Whatever you say.”

“Tell me, how’s your mother these days? Such a kind soul she was.”

“She died.”

Flat, empty, and sharp. He doesn’t want to talk about Lyra and especially not with this man. Not that he wants to talk with anyone at that rate. He just wants to go home. But he can feel the dizziness in the background. Something is off and he hates when his equilibrium tilts like this.

Not much further now at least. One more block.

“Ah, my condolences. Life is fleeting. But it’s because it is that it’s beautiful.”

“What are you, a poet?”

“No, just someone who has lived. If you’re smart, you’ll learn that life is beautiful even when it’s burning down. Every small moment, enjoy it. Feel lucky you’re alive and stay strong.” He chuckles, almost as if he can’t help himself. “Otherwise you just get snared by others that wish you harm. Right?”

Zye scoffs. “I don’t remember you being so talkative. Or weird.”

“And you, you used to be small and cute. But things change.”

“I—”

He can’t finish. Not with the stab of pain that races up through his chest. It’s a shock to his system, one that demands he stop moving. One that is heeded only because he stumbles. Zye manages to catch himself even without the hand that reaches up, pressing against him in hopes of stopping him from tilting over.

One over his heart, the other on his arm.

Normally, Zye would be adamant that Hax let go of him. He dislikes people touching him or even invading his personal space. Friends barely get away with it. Some guy that helped him out when he was a kid? No way.

“I’m fine. You can—nngh—”

The pain doesn’t leave. Any other time it strikes and it’s gone like a bolt of lightning. Yet this time it lingers and throbs. It hurts so bad that the world dares to try and move from beneath his feet. The only thing Zye can do is stand there, waiting for the sensation to pass.

Sitting down in the middle of the sidewalk is the last thing he wants to do. There’s already enough attention on him as it is. He cuts his eyes over at Hax, noticing that the man is staring at him intently.

“Can you walk?”

Zye keeps his lips drawn in a tight line as he nods.

“Then let’s step over here for a moment.”

He guides Zye over to the corner. The lights shine green and if he felt better he’d be hurrying to get across the street. Despite wanting to leave, now he wants only to be home. Hax tugs him over to the side of a building. The curtains are drawn on that particular window, allowing Zye to lean up against it without worry.

It’s only then that Hax lets one of his hands slide away. The one on Zye’s chest remains. Hax even adds a little pressure as he tilts his head so that their eyes meet. “If you’d like I can call a ride for you whether it’s home or a hospital.”

The words sound so far away. Zye strains his ears to hear them, to make out just what Hax is saying. It’s as if he’s talking to him through a rainstorm. There’s just noise — so much noise!

Zye closes his eyes, pinches them shut tight. When he opens them he’s breathless. For the smallest of moments everything is bright, saturated, and in focus. He lifts a hand, wanting to cradle at his face, only to stop.

On his fingers is a color— a color that shouldn’t be there.

Little wisps of purple energy crackle off his fingertips before turning to mist, melting away as if they were never there. Zye stares at his hand. He flexes his fingers for a moment until the visuals stop. Even the saturation dies back down to the bleak dark hues of a storm rolling in and blocking out the light in the sky.

“Zye?”

“Oh, uh…I’m fine,” he mumbles.

Hax continues to smile as he pulls away. “Good. I was saying I could walk you home if you’d prefer that over a ride.”

“N-no. Thanks, but I’m fine. Really.”

“Well, I won’t push as long as you’re sure.” He takes a step back, pulling away from Zye as well as the interaction. “Be safe on your way home then.”

Just as he goes to turn, Zye stops him. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for back then.”

Hax chuckles. “I didn’t do it to be thanked. Instead, do me a favor?” He waits for Zye to slowly nod. “Keep walking. No matter how hard it gets or if you stumble, just like that, don’t stop. Even you can have what you want most.”

Staring after him, Zye can’t help but think of how absurd that final line is. He’s never stopped moving forward. But that doesn’t mean anything. He’s just trying to survive. Living is different— no, it’s nearly impossible with this disease. So he thinks, despite having friends that’ll answer his calls.

His gaze shifts down before flicking back up. Lips part as he goes to ask Hax something, curious about him. Yet…he’s gone. There’s no one there except for the people passing him by with furtive glances. In any of the throngs of people, there’s no sign of Hax whatsoever.

Where he had been standing is a drop of water that darkens the sidewalk. More steadily begin to join until the light dusting of rain is falling down on the city. Some hurry their steps while others retrieve an umbrella at their side. Others quicken to the overhangs of shops to wait out the rain.

Zye doesn’t. He pulls his hood up and pushes away from the wall. He doesn’t have time to wait. It’s better than standing there contemplating what just happened or wondering about the odds of running into Hax here.

Home is calling and he doesn’t want to keep it waiting any longer.