Hope

I’m alone, outside in the woods. Sitting on a fallen tree, hands buried in the pockets of my jacket, face nuzzled into my scarf to hide it from the cold. It’s freezing when I’m not walking, but I barely had the energy to get here. I’m getting weaker. Weeks of carrying his pain, less and less colour in my hair. My nose and ears sting with cold, but I don’t get up. I want to be alone. Need to not be stared at, even if it’s only for half an hour. These warm eyes that fill with so much sadness when they look at me.

He’s doing well. He’s coping, which makes me happy. But he’s not happy about it and that makes the situation kinda unbearable. Because apparently, I’m trading my health for his. Just last night, I took his pain for six hours before I passed out. And now I’ve slept twelve hours, just woke up, and still feel like shit.

I’m starting to think that maybe he’s right. In a way, I am becoming his shadow. I can’t concentrate on schoolwork, have no appetite, am always numb. But the difference is that I don’t have to carry the pain all the time. I still have these moments when I’m fine, just really, really tired. And that exactly is all the reason I need to continue. Because if I stop, he doesn’t have these moments of serenity anymore. Stopping would be taking this from him. It would be trading my health for his and however much he might beg me to stop, I can’t bear the thought of it. I can’t watch him go mad, slowly descend into silence until he stops smiling, stops eating, stops moving, stops breathing. The path is clearly mapped out as soon as I let go of his hand. I can’t lift him up to safety and by now I know that if I don’t let go, we’ll probably fall together. But what’s the option? I can’t let him fall on his own. Not after everything he’s done for me.

There’s still hope. Of course there is. I would never have made it this far without. However pessimistic I might act or talk, I still hope that somehow, this cruel situation is magically going to solve itself. It’s what gets me through those nights of endless torture. Like a child’s fever dream, ridiculously hopeful and desperate. Stupid.

A branch snaps to my left and I look up, pause. Niall. But he’s alone.

I hide my chin in my scarf again and return to staring at the ground before me. If he burns me, so be it. At least that way, I’ll get around taking Ezra’s pain for a night without having to feel super shitty for it.

But Niall doesn’t attack me. Instead, he sits down next to me. Not particularly close, but not very far, either. There are maybe six feet between us.

What could he want?

No matter. Whatever he wants, I don’t. By default.

“Fuck off, Niall,” I say, but it comes out tired. Shivery. Like I’m about to cry.

Am I?

“Sorry, I-” he starts, but gets caught up in his words somehow. Is he nervous? “I won’t bother you for long, okay? Just… a minute or two. Then I’ll go and you won’t ever have to talk to me again if you don’t want to.” Pause. “Okay?”

I shrug. Not like I can do anything about it. I have neither the energy to leave nor to shout at him. If he wants to talk to me, he can.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks now,” he says

Huh. That so? I wouldn’t know. I barely leave my room. Ezra brings me food, homework. It’s amazing how really, he’s still the one carrying the pain most of the time and yet he’s doing so much better than me.

“… since Ezra almost killed us.”

How dare he? “After you tried to break my legs and arms to leave in the forest, you dick.” I meant to snap it, but really, it’s all I manage to sound like I’m talking normally.

“Yeah, about that.” A short pause, filled with the rustling of his clothes as he straightens himself. “I wanted to apologise. For… you know, being an asshole. Really trying to hurt you.” Another pause. “And I wanted to thank you for saving my… our lives. It was you, wasn’t it? The moment is really blurry in my memory, but I think I remember your voice.”

I give a vague nod.

“I’d have done it for anybody.” I feel the need to say it, like he doesn’t already know. Because if I’d save somebody who hated me, whom I hated as well, is there anybody I wouldn’t save?

“I know,” he assures quickly. “But that doesn’t make it any less special, does it?”

I guess so.

“Look, I know I haven’t been nice to you in the past and I’ll leave you alone now. But if you ever need help with… whatever. Tell me, okay?”

I shrug. When would I ever need their help? “Sure.” I don’t have the energy to tell him to fuck off again. And anyway, I shouldn’t, anyway. Because he’s trying to set things right, isn’t he? He apologised, offered to help.

“Okay.” He gets up, walks a few steps but then stops. “Would you tell Ezra? That I’m sorry, I mean.”

I nod. “Sure.”

Finally, I look up. He looks so different, somehow. His expression. No glare, just a small, slightly tense smile.

“See you.” And he walks away.

-

“Where were you?” Ezra asks the moment the door opens.

“Outside,” I say simply as I kick off my boots.

He gets up hurriedly and helps me out of my jacket. He also moves to take off the scarf, but I only have to back away a bit for him to stop.

“I’m cold,” I explain, making my way over to my bed. With a sigh, I sit and drape the blanket over my legs. Only then do I notice the steaming food on my desk.

Ezra is quick. Seconds after I look in the direction of the food, he’s there, carefully placing the tray on my legs.

“I really shouldn’t eat in bed,” I say with a frown, staring down at the vegetable pie before me.

“Shut up,” he tells me. “You deserve it. And more importantly, you need it. You’re eating everything on that plate, no discussion.”

“Fuck off,” I murmur in between blowing air atthe first spoonful. It’s not bad enough yet that he’d have to feed me. Eating is exhausting, yes, but I manage. And I’m much too proud to let him help me. There’s always this huge difference between helping and being helped. Needing help always feels really shit.

“There’s almost no normal hair left,” he observes from the chair he’s pulled closer to watch me eat.

Then, after I don’t say anything, he goes on. “I’m still worried, you know? I can see it getting to you and I know that if it wasn’t for you taking my pain every night, I’d be in your place now. But…” He pauses, licks his lips, prepares to say something stupid. “It won’t kill me. You can’t go on like this. I’m scared of what’s going to happen when your hair goes completely white.”

I don’t stop eating. In between two bites, I say, “Nothing’s going to happen, Ezra. We’ve been over this. Ms Scott didn’t find anything to support your fears.”

“And we’re still talking about superpowers, the least researched phenomenon ever. We don’t know shit about what’s going to happen.”

I can’t help but notice once more how he’s started to curse more and more since I got to know him. “So what’s your grand idea, then?”

He looks up defiantly. “You need to stop taking my pain. If you die because you’re trying to protect me, when I’m still doing fine by comparison… I can’t let that happen.”

I shrug. “And I won’t let you go mad, you fucking masochist.”

We’re at an obvious impasse, so I resort to what I always do when I don’t know what else to do. Swearing. And once again that tactic works and Ezra goes silent. He’ll let me take it. Yes, he’s able to function mostly like a person throughout the day, but he doesn’t have the willpower to say no in the evening, when I offer sleep. He knows that just as well as I do. It makes him angry, I can tell. But he doesn’t say anything.

For a long while, I eat silently. Only when the plate is mostly finished, the need to fill the awkward silence finally gets overwhelming.

“I met Niall earlier,” I tell him. “When I went into the forest.”

I don’t see his face, but I hear his breath catch. “What did he want?” he asks cautiously.

I snort. “He wanted to apologise. And he wanted you to know it, too. He’s sorry for what he did – or tried to do to me. He said that if I ever need help, I can go and ask him and his lackeys.”

I look up briefly and pause. His expression is absent. Deep in thought. His eyes aren’t focused properly.

“That’s good,” he says, nodding slowly. “Do you think they’d… do you think they’d protect you?”

I frown at him. “Protect me from what?”

But he doesn’t seem to listen. “Hope, what would you do if I… if I turned bad?”

I return to my food dismissively. “You won’t turn bad. We’ve got a deal, remember?”

“No!” he insists. “Seriously. What would you-”

“I’d kick you in the goolies, probably. And then hug you and never let you go. I was being serious when I said we had a deal. I will always be on your side to the best of my ability. I’ll always try get you to turn back, of course. But what is bad anyway?”

He sighs. “Forget it.”

I ignore him. “Seriously. I mean, hurting criminals? Killing them when they were the first to attack you? I mean, I doubt it’s Geneva-convention conform, but c’mon, they still have to be changed to account for superpowered combatants. So-”

“Hope,” he snaps. “I said forget it.”

He sounds annoyed. Tired. Exhausted.

I look up. He’s left his chair and walked to look out the window. “Why’d you ask?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ezra

I am cold. It’s dark. Hard to see. But the trees don’t carry their leaves. Like they’ve died for the moment, ready to rise from the ashes.

I almost laugh.

Not how it works.

Especially not for me.

But wouldn’t that be nice?

A shiver at my back.

Nausea in my stomach.

Fear.

Like before, but worse. So much worse.

Because I’m no longer alone with this. I was never really, but in a way…. The pain was my own. And now it’s no longer.

I wanted to fight for her. But now she fights for me.

And I hate this.

Hate that I can’t do anything. Hate that I’ve the energy to stand, walk, run. Hate the white hair she doesn’t seem to mind.

An empty pit in my stomach at the thought of the future.

I open the zipper of my jacket, let in the cold. Icy wind hits my chest, soars against my stomach. I close my eyes. This is the moment to end it all. The last chance to take myself out of the equation.

And for a moment, everything goes silent. Then out of my chest… mist in the freezing air. Like a final breath. Maybe it should be. Maybe… better for everybody.

In a way, the cold makes me whole. Calms my heart, settles my stomach. Gives me something to concentrate on.

But my body continues working in spite of itself.

And then I hear her laughter, like bells in the calm, and I know that I can’t. I want to live. I have to live. I can’t leave her behind.

She’s still holding on. She has to let go, and if she won’t…. I can feel myself falling, even though I’m standing upright. My body sways in the dark and I have to lean against a tree.

Tears on my cheeks, muffled sniffles.

This can’t continue. I can’t die, she can’t die. What options does that leave me with.

The man and his strange proposal.

I thought I could make myself not care. Thought I could ignore him. But Mr White forced me in on myself. Locked the monster up, alone, only its own flesh to eat. And now Hope offered herself up as a sacrifice.

If I want her to live, I’ll have to set the monster free.

They wouldn’t stand a chance.

I’d do anything to save her, to save us. And if that means becoming a villain, so be it.

SeptemberMorgan

Hey hey, sorry for the delay. I was really busy this past weekend and right now I'm updating while on the train and half asleep XD Fun fact, next week's gonna be a banger, in case you haven't suspected already.