⋆✴︎˚｡⋆i'm glad it was you ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

jade always keeps to himself, or at least it seems that way; he's hardly ever at the diner, or at town meetings. curiosity piqued, you step into the bar, shutting the door behind you.

"hi, sorry, i hope i'm not bothering you or anything," you say. for the first time, his head snaps up to look at you, and... my god. those eyes are intense.

"everything bothers me here, so," jade quips.

you huff, in slight amusement at his prickly nature. "well, i was just hoping to come in here to clear my head. promise i won't say a word or disturb your doing..." you gesture at the mess in front of him. "...that."

his stare lingers on you for a brief moment before going, "if by 'clear my head' you mean drink," he points at a half-empty bottle of clear liquid on the bar behind him, "i'm afraid that's all we got, and it tastes like fucking shit."

you shrug and tilt your head in response, silently resigning to the town's collective fate of terrible alcohol forever -- or, until you all go home. someday. maybe.

jade continues, "but if my 'clear my head' you mean talk to somebody about your problems," he reaches over, grabs the bottle, and takes a swig from it as if to make a point, "i'm afraid i'm busy. can't help you."

unfazed by what seems to be indirect attempts to shoo you away, you walk over to the bar and where jade is standing. you hold out your hand for the bottle. "you were right the first time. don't worry, i'm not here to sob about how fucked everything is, and how we're all screwed. i already did that."

the man raises an eyebrow, and you think you see the shadow of a faint smile tug at his lips. but his beard is so grown out that it's hard to tell. jade hands you the bottle and watches as you pour some into an empty glass. "you're new here, right?" he asks.

you nod, taking a sip of the moonshine. the piercing, stinging burn makes your eyes water, and you exhale sharply, trying not to cough.

"yeah, i know," jade mutters, that same small smile threatening to emerge. a slight pause. "i'm jade. but i'm guessing you already know that."

"why? are you that famous back home?" you respond, taking another sip. the burn goes down a little easier.

"ha, no, well, kind o--i just think it's likely that someone in this town has already told you what a massive dickhead i am."

you clear your throat without realizing, and jade half-snorts at your reaction. "who was it? jim? i bet it was fuckin' jim. or kenny."

"i don't gossip and tell," you say. this time, jade smiles for real, and you can tell from how the lines by his eyes take shape that this doesn't happen too often. you introduce yourself, then say: "yeah, i was in the last car that arrived here. i honestly can't tell how long it's been since that day. i don't know how time works anymore."

jade sighs. "you're telling me. i'm in here for days sometimes. or at least, that's what i think based on the light and darkness," he nods towards the mess of papers, notes, and drawings on the table. "i just sit in here obsessing over all this fucking bullshit. there has to be something that tells us how we get home but i just can't see it."

"do you not eat?"

"obsessive mind plus visions of dead people and mysterious symbols don't equal big appetite," his voice strains slightly as he reaches behind you for the moonshine bottle. "besides, i can only eat so much of the so-called food here before i feel literally fucking sick."

you think of the food you've had so far at the diner: vegetable stew, potatoes, eggs, even pancakes on occasion -- thinking aloud: "it really isn't that bad. are you used to eating fancier shit or something?"

jade scoffs. "you think i'm some snobby piece-of-shit tech bro, don't you?" before you can reply, he continues: "i just...food is really important to me, i guess. i don't know, maybe it sounds fucking stupid. but food was always how i connected with my grandmother when i was a kid, and i took all her french recipes to new york with me, and whenever i wanted to celebrate something big at work or uh, i guess whenever i missed her, i'd make some of them," he's speaking quickly, almost nervously; almost like something is taking over him in the moment and he's not sure why he's telling you all of these things. "and tobey, fucking tobey," he laughs, bitterly, looking out the window at something far away, "we had our ritual of eating buffalo wings after going to the bar or the club or some asshole's party." you aren't sure who tobey is, but from the sudden glimmering sheen across jade's eyes, you can guess.

there's a moment of silence that hangs thick and heavy in the air, and you realize that it's probably rare -- significant, even -- for jade to let his abrasive exterior crack. to be vulnerable. and to be missing something or someone. you realize how it probably really hurts the residents of this town to let themselves miss things or people, only for the pang of memories and taste of familiar food and the touch of a loved one to wash away to make space for the darkness and the smiling monsters and the endless question of whether they will ever experience those things ever again, or if they're banished to the brain and the brain alone.

for the first time since that first or second or third night in colony house when you cried yourself to sleep, you decide to knock down the wall of feigned optimism, of hope, of aversion to emotion and hurt. you decide to let yourself remember.

"i fuckin' miss bagels," you blurt out, quietly, like you're testing the waters. just saying the word fills your mouth with the taste, and it's painful.

jade looks over at you. "fuck," he huffs out a short laugh. "me too."

"there's this family-run bakery by my house," you continue. "best bagels ever. oh my god, and it's right next to this cat rescue, and they'd be playing or sleeping in the windows, and it's the best thing ever," your mind flashes with crystal-clear images of the walks you've taken by that place, the one ginger cat you always told yourself you'd take home but never did. pain, and a new emotion -- regret? guilt?

"my neighbor has these three cats, named after the three stooges," jade tells you after taking a drink. you laugh out loud and do the same. "what i'd give to fucking pet them right now. if a cat walked through that door i think i'd probably cry."

suddenly, you feel bolder. "i miss music festivals. and concerts. i miss dancing till my feet hurt."

"i miss taking the train," jade counters, "i miss the beach. oh, i miss sitting on a park bench and listening to music."

you feel inspired. "oh my god, i miss watching YouTube videos."

jade has the bottle to his mouth, but he points at you frantically while letting out loud hums of agreement. "yes! fucking YouTube videos. even with the ads. i'll take 'em with the ads right now."

you chuckle, wondering if jade feels the same sting rising in his throat as you do. and you know it's not the alcohol. "i miss movie theaters and popcorn with the fake butter."

"in college i once fell asleep in the theater and was woken up by a flashlight in my face way past closing time," jade is looking out the window again. "i had to walk home alone in the dark because it was so late and nothing was running. i told myself that i'd never ever do that shit again, but..." he swallows hard. "god, that sounds like a dream."

you think of all the times you've missed a train, or lost your ID, or got splashed by a car driving across a rain puddle. you think of all the situations you've been in where you swore it was the worst possible scenario, and you are overwhelmed with a crippling feeling of trying hold onto something that you know is there but just out of reach. like trying to grab onto seaweed in murky, muddy, dirty water as you're sinking and kicking your legs but cursed with the ability to breathe just fine.

it hits you all at once and you choke on a sob, tears spilling out before you can even react.

jade reacts faster, putting the bottle down and gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "hey, hey, whoa," he whispers. "are you okay?"

you want to lie, but you don't. "no," you respond, wiping your face with your sleeve. "remembering hurts. it really fucking hurts."

"it does," jade murmurs, squeezing your shoulder. "i know."

"how do you stop yourself from remembering? from missing things and people? it just hurts so much."

he sighs. "well, i try to distract myself, i suppose," he shifts his eyes towards the papers on the table. "but that doesn't always work. or someone comes in here and promises they're not going to sob and cry, but look where we are."

there's something in his tone that lets you know that he's joking instead of blaming you, which you appreciate. you can't imagine how hard it must be being looked at with animosity in this town. you can't imagine being known as the town prick.

"sorry," you half-sob, half-smile. you know it's for a lot of things.

"i'm sorry too," jade says softly.

you bring your glass to your lips and shakily down the last of the moonshine, hand trembling from the force of your crying. jade's eyes don't leave you.

"i uh," you start, breathing slowly going back to normal. "i guess i'm gonna go. i've disturbed you enough." putting the glass down onto the bar, you turn to leave.

a hand catches your arm. "no, please," jade states. "i'd like you to stay, if that's alright."

you look at him, and his eyes still have the same restless, mad, a-mile-a-minute agitation behind them, but they're also pleading.

"y-you might be able to help me," he elaborates quickly. "offer a new perspective. two heads might be better than one."

"will you tell me more about these visions of dead people and symbols you've been seeing?"

"i guess i have no choice. just please don't think i'm crazy."

you think about how you're standing in a makeshift bar, in a town with monsters that no one can escape, feeling tipsy from homemade moonshine made by someone who's likely already dead, crying over old memories in the company of a CEO with wild hair in a chunky grey cardigan who's begging you not to think he's crazy.

"i won't."

"do you think i'm an asshole too?"

"no, i don't," you reply firmly, honestly. "i don't care what kenny says."

"see, it was kenny, i fucking knew it!"

"let's focus, jade."