Hope

With a sigh, I open my eyes and get up. I don’t wait for the others, just walk away. I’ve got places to be.

He told me to participate in classes. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Because he is more important. Because if – for whatever messed-up reason – I’m his reason to hold on… shouldn’t I try making it easier for him? Shouldn’t I be there more, do everything I can to support him, so he has an easier time?

Apparently not. He said I should continue living my own life, even if I spent my evenings with him. I still have to finish school, he said. I wholeheartedly disagreed, but he wouldn’t have any of it.

I still feel guilty around him, but it’s gotten ‘better’. He has gotten better at hiding it. He talks almost normally now. He eats properly again, even though I can tell he’s just forcing it down.

It’s no place I want him to stay, but it’s a start. Because apparently, the pain isn’t going away any time soon.

It almost seems like he’s going to be able to live with it.

Or like he wants me to think he’s okay.

I can’t tell, I wouldn’t put either past him and I don’t want to ask, because honestly, I don’t want to know.

Am I a bad person for thinking that way? For wanting to be deceived? For wanting to ignore my best friends’ chronic agony.

Probably. But then again… Have I ever been a good person?

I’m meant to be the dark. A little self-deception isn’t going to be what gets me put away in Tartarus for all eternity.

“Hope!” somebody calls from behind me. “Wait up!”

I stop, turn. Autumnal wind pulls a strand of hair from my ponytail and whips it into my face. It’s getting dark earlier. It’s getting colder. We’ll have to move inside, soon. Sitting outside and meditating for two hours every day isn’t a good idea when it’s below ten degrees Celsius.

Marcel’s the one who called. He and Maya and Hephaestos are walking towards me hurriedly, trying to catch up.

I spent a lot of time watching them today. It’s not like I’d never done that before, but it once again showed me that they’re a really good team. They’ll probably end up in one unit of superheroes after school. They’ll be a good one, too. Even Emily and Will struggle against them.

“What are you doing now?” Hephaestos asks as they fall in line with me.

I shrug. “Homework, probably.”

“Don’t you… eat? We haven’t seen you in the cafeteria for some time.” He seems genuinely curious about it.

Should I glare at him, just to stay in character? Probably. I don’t, though. “I do. But I eat in the infirmary.” With Ezra. Because I spend every second I’m not in class with him. Even when I’m sleeping. If that’s what helps him, that’s what I’ll do. I owe him as much. If not because this is my fault, then because he helped me get a grip on myself again. For the first time in… I don’t even know. It’s been a long time.

“Oh.” He blushes uncomfortably.

Right. Ezra. The topic that’s usually avoided. The glorious superhero that isn’t actually a hero, but is instead slowly wasting away in the infirmary.

Nobody really knows how to handle the situation, not even Mr White. Officials told us to keep the information in, but it’s still somehow leaked. A few days ago, the security team caught a reporter trying to sneak into the premises. I don’t know why he thought sneaking into a place full of superpowered people that wouldn’t like him much for it would be a good idea, but apparently, he did. He thinks differently now, I’m sure of that.

“We thought we could do another little party?” Maya says cautiously. “Maybe… Do you think… Ezra would like that?”

I shrug. “I can ask him. But… ”

She gives me a worried look. “How’s he doing?”

My throat spontaneously ties itself in a not and I swallow, but that doesn’t really help.

“He’s doing… better?” Because he is, isn’t he? God, I wish so much that this isn’t just me, dreaming my wishes into reality. “But he’s still very tired most of the time. Can’t sleep properly, doesn’t talk much.”

I hate that I am very much able to sleep properly. I told him that he should just wake me up when he can’t sleep, so we can talk or… watch television together or whatever things we do when we’re awake. We even played a few board games – that’s how far we’ve come with this – but he hasn’t ever done that yet. Maybe because even though he can’t sleep he’s still too tired to do anything. Maybe because acting like he’s fine is a very taxing endeavour.

“So you think maybe another time?”

I shrug again, a little more energetically this time. “I’ll ask him.”

We arrive by the main house and stop just past the doors, when the wind doesn’t bite our faces any longer.

“And it probably wouldn’t do much good if we all came to keep him company, huh?” Marcel asks, a little sheepishly.

“Maybe in a few days, if you manage to have conversations where you don’t need him to participate?”

There’s an awkward pause and then we all start speaking at the same time.

“I’ll text you,” I say as Maya blurts “Alright, so,” and Hephaestos murmurs something that’s hopelessly drowned in the sound of our voices.

Maya halts, then nods, pulling her lips into this kind-of-smile with tense cheeks, that’s more a shrug than a smile. “Okay. Say hello from us.”

I nod, too. “I will. It’ll mean a lot to him that you care.”

It was meant to make them feel better about not having him – us – there for the party, but it sounds dumb as soon as the words have left my mouth.

She nods again and the silence turns awkward again because there’s nothing more to say.

“I… think I’ll go now,” I say and point my thumb in direction of the infirmary.

“Okay. Have a good one,” Marcel says.

“See you tomorrow,” Maya adds.

“See ya,” I reply, then turn and hurry down the corridor. They’ve delayed me. I’m not mad at them, but like every time these past days, I’m anxious to return to our room. Because what if it’s gotten worse? What if the pain has gone away and the wanker decided to have another go at ‘surprises’?

But nothing has changed when I enter the infirmary. Ezra’s sitting in his bed, legs crossed, a plate with spaghetti bolognese balanced on the blanket before him. It’s still steaming. There’s another plate on my bedside table.

I hesitate in the archway that divides Ms Scott’s space from ours. “It won’t wash out if you spill any of that,” I say, nodding at his plate.

He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “I’m feeling a little rebellious today.”

My stomach clenches and grows fuzzy warm at the same time.

I drop my bag next to my bed and sit, facing towards him.

“So? How was your day?” I ask, pulling the bedside table closer so that at least one of us won’t be recolouring their sheets.

“Shit,” Ezra says, but then shrugs. “A little less shit than yesterday, though.” With slow and deliberate movements, he picks up the fork and begins rolling up noodles. He’s not very successful with it. “A little more shit now,” he says, creasing his brow slightly with frustration. “Seriously.” He tries again, but fails. “When was the last time you struggled eating fucking spaghetti?”

He curses a whole lot more now than he used to. I suppose I’m a bad influence.

I don’t react to his question. For a few moments, I watch him, then I catch his eyes.

“Do you want me to… help you?” I’d never say 'feed', even though that’s exactly what I’m offering. It sounds so much less dignified.

He pauses, stares thoughtfully at the fork in his hand. “Don’t you want to eat?” he asks then.

I shrug. “That can wait. It’s much too hot right now anyway.”

Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, I think I… need help.”

He awkwardly moves the corners of his mouth into a short-lived smile as I get up and sit next to him. Carefully, I roll up a small portion on the fork, place it on the spoon, and hold it not too far from his mouth.

He doesn’t meet my eyes, but he blows on it a little and then, when it’s no longer steaming, he puts one hand to the spoon and puts it into his mouth.

His fingers are touching mine as he moves the spoon, but I don’t let go. Should I? No, probably not. His grip is delicate.

“I talked to Maya and the others just now, on the way here,” I say as he chews. “You know, Hephaestos and Marcel. They want to have another party and were wondering whether you’d want to come. Or maybe they could come over just to be here and spend you a little company?”

He chews another few times, then swallows and shakes his head.

“No, I… I like just having you here. If that- If that’s alright.” His eyes flicker up to meet mine and dash away immediately.

I nod as I prepare the next spoonful of noodles. “Yeah, sure.”

“Maybe in a week?” he says thoughtfully and blows on the steaming food. “You know… Even if this doesn’t ever go away. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in here. I’ll have to find a way to live with it.” He shrugs.

I frown at him. “How, though?”

He shrugs again. “I don’t know yet. I don’t know… anything about how this works.”

And that’s the problem. Atlas might claim to know a lot about the virus, but really, they’re clueless. They don’t know how long his pain’s going to last, they don’t know whether he can expect any real powers, they don’t even know whether this is a normal experience for somebody with atlas levels this high, because it’s literally the first time this has happened.

What a time to be alive. We’re witnessing history as it’s being written.

“Great. Just… great.”

“I’ll make it, okay?” he says and this time his smile lasts several seconds. “Because fuck fate, right?”

Right. Fuck fate. Except fate is still freaking fate. If it exists. But Luca’s prophecy – the ability to make prophecies in general – strongly suggests just that.

But if anybody can make it, it’s him. Because he’s Ezra. He’s the strongest person I’ve ever met. He went through so much and still he was able to help me of all people. He was willing to help me. Because apparently, he had the capacity to do so. He had strength for two. And even now he’s holding strong.

“Yeah. Fuck fate,” I say and prepare the next spoonful.

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Ezra

It’s dark outside. The wind is cold, should probably hurt. But it doesn’t.

Walking is difficult. Takes a lot of concentration and even then, I’m not very fast.

Breath leaves my mouth in little huffs. It probably sounds like I’m out of breath, even though I’m not.

The school grounds are large and it takes me a long while to get to the gate. I don’t know where I’m going, but I want to get out. I’ll return, but right now I still want out. Maybe revisit some of my favourite spots?

But the lights by the gate are on. People in the small guardhouse.

Don’t want to ask to be let through, so instead I leave the street and walk into the forest, along the fence.

There’s barbed wire on top. Climbing over isn’t an option. Maybe with a tree?

Doesn’t take long and I’ve found one. Climbing is even more difficult. Don’t know how I manage, but a bit later, I drop and crash into the underbrush on the other side.

Landing could’ve been softer. But I don’t feel the pain.

Perks of a virus overwriting your nerves to torture you endlessly.

Briefly, I check for any broken bones, but everything’s fine, so I head in direction of the street.

It won’t be long before morning. Maybe four more hours? Have to be back by then. Don’t want to know how Hope will react when she finds that my bed is empty. Don’t want to frighten her.

The city streets are vacant. The city has died for the night. Unlike us mortals, it’ll rise again in the morning.

I’m in the old part of town, now. A slight rain has set in and the cobblestone beneath my feet is slippery. Only makes it harder to walk. But I continue. If I can’t manage this, how am I supposed to handle everything else?

There’s a rattling sound behind me. I turn, lose my balance, fall against the wall of the house next to me. Manage to keep myself up. Look, but the street behind me is empty. No stray cats, no shadow stalking from one entrance to the next, trying to evade my searching gaze.

Wait a moment, still see nothing. Push off the wall and continue walking.

My heart’s still beating fast when I round the next corner and see somebody coming towards me.

He looks like a homeless man. Long, dirty coat, mud-stained jeans, an unkempt beard.

I try to continue walking, but by the time my legs have thawed, he’s seen me.

“Excushe me,” he says, his speech slurred. “You wouldn’t happ’n to have a lil shpare money?”

“Sorry,” I whisper. I actually don’t, but not sure he’ll believe me. In no condition to run away. Or fight.

Get superpowers, they said. You’ll be invincible, they said.

Right.

He seems nervous, looks around, but doesn’t back off. “Pleashe,” he tries. His left has moved into the pocket of his coat.

Not surprised when he pulls out a knife and holds it in my direction. My stomach still turns.

“Pleashe.”

He’s drunk. Won’t keep him from stabbing me, though.

Breath is growing short. Trouble breathing. Panic setting in.

“Just a lil.”

“I don’t have any,” I press out. Meant to yell it, but my voice fails me.

And suddenly, I’m angry. Because Hope is right, none of this is fair. I don’t deserve any of it and I want to live.

A hungry shiver in my chest and I feel it leave my body. Feel myself pushing it out at him. Like a magnet, it latches on and he drops. A gargled, torn scream like skin against barbed wire.

And suddenly, I’m fine. Calmly, I watch him twitch on the wet cobblestone. Watch his mouth fight for air his lungs can’t take. His voice fails quickly and only strained gasps make it past his lips.

And I stand over him and watch.

I am doing this to him, I know. But I can’t stop. Can’t make myself pull it back. Because just for a moment, the pain is gone. As his life grows dim, I feel myself grow stronger. Awake for the first time in forever.

Then the pain’s grip on him weakens and it snaps back into me. And for a second I can’t breathe, but then I catch myself. The pain is just as bad as before, but somehow more bearable still. I can think.

And that’s when I realise that I just killed somebody. Yes, he was threatening me with a knife, but the man at my feet is dead and there’s not even a scratch in my skin.

What did you do? a voice asks in my head and it takes a second to realise that it’s not my own. The voice is Hope’s and it’s so full of fear and reproach.

As my stomach lurches, I turn and stumble away, one hand at my mouth.

I make it around two corners before my body takes over and I throw up into a drain.

SeptemberMorgan

Remember when I said this story wasn't going to be as wholesome as Moonlit Waters? (Did I even say that on here?) Yeah, this is what I meant. (Seriously tho... how obvious was this development?)
On this very wholesome and happy note, Happy Holidays to all those who celebrate!

P.S.: LOL, I just found out about the possibility of adding a poll on here, so there ya go - wherever it might've appeared