LANGIT / LUPA

God, what a thrill that look on Joshua’s face was. The one thing Jade could never do without were those kinds of looks. It didn’t take much effort to produce them, and any person that looked at her the way Joshua looked at her now was a person she often kept in her life. Even Joshua himself had started out merely being such a person – anything from subtly flirting with him when he was in a relationship to the tryst they’d had sparingly over the last year or so had gone toward that need for a thrill, that need to be as unconventional as she could be. Of course, Joshua had become… something more. Something Jade wouldn’t let herself think about, something she pushed down deep inside and hid away for fear what it would do to her. Any other person, she would have already run from by now. Any other person, and the fact that she had to push part of herself down in fear would have sent her out of their life faster than they could have reacted.  But not Joshua. She kept coming back and back and back and back, well past the time in their “relationship” that she should. Jade chuckled into his lips, arms finding their way around his neck almost immediately. Making them sway as she deepened the kiss, Jade pressed her body even closer to his – though almost just as soon as she had, she pulled away. Lips red and swollen, she tilted her head to the side and grinned. “Wow, you weren’t lying,” she teased. Absentmindedly, her hands played with his hair. “The life of a professor not exciting enough to keep you entertained while I’m gone?”

There was a part of Joshua --- a small part, but a part nonetheless --- that knew he should have stayed away. All his friends had told him over and over that he had no future with Jade --- at least not the one he so yearned for. They said they knew women like Jade, knew how she smiled pretty and lured men with her beauty, knew how she could snap her fingers and have Joshua crawling back to her. Yet, for as much as Joshua understood that they were right in his future with Jade being as distant as whatever the word future meant, he also knew they were wrong to judge her. He felt something. He knew she did, too. It was in their kiss now, in the way she looked at him, in the way she lit up at his touch. It was all there! Or, Joshua thought it might be.

When she pulled away, Joshua licked his lips and smiled at Jade in the way he smiled only for her. His eyes shone with love --- even if he had not yet admitted to himself that he loved her. “No, not really,” he said, “not even the tests are keeping me entertained these days.” He chuckled. “Are you staying? Do you want to?” A part of him almost wanted to beg for her to. Something in him almost asked her to. But he refrained himself. “You could if you wanted,” Joshua said instead. “Have you had dinner? I could make something.”

He didn’t ask her to stay, but he might as well.

It wasn’t like Aida dreamed and hoped for an apology. Hell, for all she knew, Jack had no idea what effect he’d had on her. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he didn’t, as he wouldn’t have been the first man in her life – directly in relation to her or otherwise – to not know the effect he had on a woman. The negative effect he had. Bar from the times she and her sister got to talking about the bad old days of Aida’s and Jack’s relationship, Aida didn’t think about him too much. Which was why, when the words ‘yeah, of course,’ escaped Jack’s mouth, that Aida couldn’t help the surprise that flitted onto her face. Surprise and, well, honestly? Curiosity. Like their relationship was an old missing person’s case that suddenly got updated. Or some equivalent of it. Surprise and curiosity turned to stone, however, as Jack continued to talk. Jaw clenched, Aida felt her pulse quicken, her palms sweating. This was it, she realized. This was the apology that she hadn’t dreamed and hoped for. This was the apology she’d never allowed herself to want. Her throat felt tight, and she could barely swallow, let alone speak. She realized that she didn’t want to hear his apology – at least not then and there. At least not during a televised drinking game. Aida reached for the tequila before Jack had even finished asking the next question. One shot, two shots, three shots, and the atmosphere in the studio had gone from excitingly tense, to anxiety-inducing uncomfortable. She could feel the crew squirm in their seats, though Aida didn’t care; she was tipsy now. Tipsy enough not to care. “Whew, alrighty,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “You know, you guys really should have watered down this alcohol ‘cause I’m getting wayyy too tipsy,” she said, directing her statement at the people behind the camera. Thankfully, her words received a few relieved chuckles in response, lighting the mood just a little. “My turn!” She pulled a card, and immediately burst out laughing. “Ohhh, fuck! Okay, let’s do this: Do you still love me and did you ever love me?”

Aida’s response hadn’t been the one Jack was expecting. Though, in truth, he hadn’t known what he was expecting. He hadn’t expected to see her after all these years because of a video her friends were making, and he hadn’t expected this would be the game they would play upon first meeting. He hadn’t expected any of these, but he’d willingly played along with it because he thought it was what she wanted. So, the apology and the effects of it --- Jack thought it was what Aida wanted, too. And, more than that, he knew it was what he wanted to give. The shock played clearly on his countenance when Aida took one shot too many; if he tried to downplay it any, the attempts did not work. Instead, he remained quiet until Aida asked her question. Even the chuckles she elicited did not lighten his mood, and, if anything, sought to deepen the frown on his features. Her question would do the same.

Though Jack could very well answer the question --- that no, he didn’t love her anymore, but that yes, he had loved her and would always hold a special place for her in his heart --- he instead downed three shots, one after the other, just like she did. He didn’t know what she wanted anymore; perhaps, he never had. “All right,” he said with a shake of his head, “now we’re asking questions.” He chuckled, and picked a card from the deck. “Ooh. Where do you see us in the next ten years?”

The moon was a round bulb in the sky, the only other source of light aside from Lobster Diner’s neon sign out front. Days in this small town were so often like these: stagnant, reassuring, constant. They were almost always the same, and the people who inhabited them, no different. Anybody else would find this a bore, but Greyson found himself with a certain sense of peace with each day that came. There was some grace that came with assurance, some gratitude that came with constants. As he closed his diner’s front door for the night, he let out a sigh and turned to head home.

This time, though, something strange and out of the blue would greet him: a car he’d never seen before, and a woman he definitely had not seen before beside it. Her back was facing him, but from the look of her stance, it seemed that something was wrong. Grey knew better than to sneak up behind her and ask her, though. Instead, he remained where he was --- a good distance ---, cleared his throat, and said, “Is there... anything I can help you with?” He sidestepped so he could look at her face. “You’re new here, aren’t you? Or are you just craving for really good lobster at this time of night?”

@langit-lupa

If Jade hadn’t forced some decorum upon herself, she might as well just have stripped down to her birthday suit right then and there in the middle of Joshua’s apartment. It was just the kind of thing people expected of her, just the kind of thing he probably expected of her, and Jade would definitely lie if she didn’t say she didn’t fancy the idea. Showing up with a big bang had always been her preferred method of entering someone’s life again after a brief time apart, and especially so when it came to Joshua. But: decorum. This was a dignified professor, after all. He didn’t come home to buck-naked women strewn across his couch. Or, if he did, he sure as hell had changed in the last two months since they’d seen each other. Instead of going for the more egregious of entrances, however, Jade settled on one close enough; she’d just gotten out of his shower when she heard the front door unlock. Wrapping nothing but a towel around her body, her wet hair sticking to her back, she made her way into his living room. “Hey there, soldier,” Jade grinned. “Missed me?”

This much was true: Joshua shouldn’t miss Jade so much. She was a whirlwind, and her touch made a mess of him. She left so much aching in her wake, but did little to ease the pain. Joshua could do so much better with any other woman, with any other woman who wanted to settle down. Settle. With him. For him. It wouldn’t have mattered; Joshua should’ve taken whatever came his way. But, for as much as that was true, this was, too: Joshua liked the mess. He liked the way his heart raced, the way Jade lit him on fire, the way she smiled in the quiet moments they had together. And he missed her. He missed her. These last few weeks without her have been filled with nothing but the thought of her. So, one could only expect the surprise to be written all over his features when he unlocked his apartment door to the sight of Jade in nothing but a towel. With his mouth agape, his eyes traveled her body, then met her gaze again to show a look of confusion. “Y--Yes,” he dropped his satchel on the couch. “Yes, actually. Uh, hi! This is, uh---”

Surprise once more flashed across Aida’s face, though this time it was mingled with hurt and relief. It didn’t make sense, the emotions that played across her face, at least not to her – part of her felt hurt that he wouldn’t say, hurt that he wouldn’t admit to what his actions had done to her; but another part of her was relieved. At the end of the day, she didn’t know if she wanted to know the answer, wanted to know how it differed from her own. She already knew their relationship hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her, and she didn’t need to hear it from him. Aida cleared her throat, averting her gaze as Jack asked the next question. “Oh, wow, okay,” she laughed, biting her lip and shaking her head. What would it take for them to get back together? Fuck if she knew. Excluding the few weeks she’d spent in bed, crying and daydreaming about a timeline where Jack was the kind of boyfriend she’d wished he could be, Aida hadn’t let her mind go there. Despite the fact that her thoughts returned to that time now, there was a bittersweet smile on her face as she reached for the alcohol. “Actually–,” she hesitated, though merely shook her head and poured herself a shot and quickly downed it. The burning sensation made her cough slightly, grimacing in disgust. Every time she closed her eyes she could see herself, lying in bed, crying. “Okay, I’m just gonna–,” she said, though didn’t finish the sentence; instead, she merely poured herself another shot and downed it. “Whew!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Alright, I’m good.” She reached for another card. As her eyes scanned the next question, Aida felt her heart skip a beat, and she had to press her lips together hard not to let out a noise. Meeting Jack’s gaze, she read the question loud and clear, “Is there anything you want to apologize for?”

Though Jack had wanted to know the answer to the prior question --- who the fuck knew why --- he gave Aida a playful nod when she downed her shot. “Okay, that makes sense,” he said, and as he did, tried not to let any sign of real emotion show through his countenance. That was the way with Jack, wasn’t it? Become the bigger person --- or what he thought was the version of the bigger person. Somebody without blatant emotions that could get in the way, somebody without needing anybody else, somebody who could only pretend to be strong. When Aida reached for her card and asked her question, however, the facade would break and his face became one of recognition. He knew, of course, the things he’d done to her. He knew what she had wanted at the time, and that he had strung her along without really giving her what she wanted. He knew. And, for so long, he shied away from it. Not this time. Perhaps, this is what it meant to truly be a big person. “Yeah, of course,” he began, “I’ve been trying to find the way to say it, and I didn’t know how. Two years have passed, you know? It’s not like I can knock on your door and just apologize. I didn’t want to bring old wounds up.” He licked his lips. “But yeah. I want to say sorry. For not treating you the way I should have. The way you wanted to be treated. The way I wanted to treat you. I was--- I was young, and scared, and I--- Well, nothing’s a good enough excuse. I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that.” Jack’s gaze never once left Aida’s, not until he had to reach for a card and read it. “If you could do it all over again, what would you change?”

There was nothing wrong with the outlets in his apartment. It was maddening and he was sick and tired of his electricity getting in the way of his work. If it weren’t for the fact that his rent was so cheap, he really would’ve considered trying to get out of his lease. It made him think that he was better off staying with his parents than trying to find a place closer to his place of work. He just hoped all the upsides of this place would compensate for this annoying feat. 

Finn headed back to his work space. It was the second bedroom in his place, but it had the best light. Sometimes he was in there and still smelled the faintest hint of smoke, and that moment was one of those times. He had heard from the landlord that there had been a fire in his very apartment, but he had been assured everything had been refurnished and redone, so he didn’t understand why sometimes he smelt smoke and ash in the air. It was another odd quirk about his place, but at least that one Finn didn’t mind about it. 

Sitting down, he glanced out his window, but then something caught his eye in the reflection of the glass. Something was by the door of his office space. His eyes squinted, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. No, something was definitely there. Alarmed, Finn turned around, and once he had, he immediately jumped up from his seat. 

“Shit!” he yelled, half in fright. That was definitely a body. How the hell did that get there? Was his door unlock? “How did you get in here?” Finn made no attempt to move from his spot, pushing his chair in front of him as a barrier. He hadn’t even heard anyone come in. Why was there someone lying on the floor near the door? “Who are you. If you don’t answer me or leave right now, I’m going to call the cops,” he warned. 

She was suffocating. There was no other way to put the feelings into words. Breath short, head dizzy, body numb. Dying. Dying, dying, dying. Outside her body, there was no smoke. Irene could see everything clearly: a place unfamiliar to her, the man she’d been watching for weeks, a death inevitable. But, still, she felt like smoke was filling her lungs to the brim. Still, her body ached to be away from the scorching heat. Still, she struggled.

 A sensation in the pit of Irene’s stomach told her: this isn’t the first time.

Despite the lack of clear thinking, Irene knew she’d felt this way before. And, for the sole fact that she knew she was a ghost, she understood that this was how she died. No one had told her, though, how to deal with it. There wasn’t a ghost academy that she could go to, that taught her wha to do when she was reliving her death. There wasn’t an elder council of ghosts that had come up with a solution to escape death. This wasn’t the first time; it wouldn’t be the last.

This is how she died. This is how she died. This is how she died.

When the man spoke to her, Irene managed to look up at him. Her eyes, a wide cry for help. Her countenance, an intense thing. When he stepped away from her, Irene reached out for him --- just one hand, and barely moving. She took a deep breath and managed to say, “Help.”

That was it before she closed her eyes, and willed herself to die again.

Aida held her breath, the small moment of Jack’s decision feeling like it stretched throughout centuries. For that moment, she almost forgot they were in a studio – all her senses heightened, but the world around her seemed to vanish into a blur. Now, in contrast to before, Aida’s eyes were glued to Jack. His words were hard to swallow, though she did her best to look unaffected, if not amused. “Aha,” she let out, a noise that was supposed to sound like a chuckle, but didn’t quite. “Yup,” she said, voice stronger, words slightly pointed through the amusement, “I sure do.” She hadn’t had a breakdown at every new sexcapade of his for nothing. When it was her turn to answer a question, Aida’s face fell into thought for just a second before she smoothed it over. “No, nah,” she shrugged, clearing her throat. “Not really. I mean. It happened. I don’t believe in regret. Not like that. Everything’s a lesson, so why waste time regretting it?” Her turn. She wondered silently if they shouldn’t drink more – after all, wasn’t that was strangers on the internet were interested in? Aida paused as she read the question on her new card. She could answer this one. She wanted to answer it, to exert some weird form of vengeance. But she knew she wasn’t supposed to. “When did you know it was over between us?”

Okay. This was good, right? It was heavy, but it was good. It was strange, but it had to be good. Right? This was the closure for the strange relationship they had, wasn’t it? This was the closure for the love they never had, for the love Jack was never able to give Aida. Because the truth was that he had loved her --- in his own way ---, only that he hadn’t been able to do it in the way she needed or wanted. At her answer, Jack found himself breathing a sigh of relief. For no reason, or perhaps, for every reason in the world. He tried to brush this off with a shake of his head at the question she gave him. Without hesitation, he pours himself a shot. Though he knew the answer, he’d rather not give it. How? How could he? How could he say he knew it was over when she’d stopped looking at him like the way she did now? What would that mean? He smiled at her before picking up another card. “What would it take for us... to get back together?” There was obvious hesitation in Jack’s voice as he read this question, but he hoped she would answer.

“All your life, you’d had to be grown up. The world you inhabited required you to be; there was no other option. From the very beginning, you had to learn how to pick yourself up. How to live without dependency. How to look into the mirror of yourself and not long for love. So much of this has overflowed into your relationships. The way you treat people is a tell-tale sign of your need for independence. But, you realize later rather than sooner that no man is an island, that you do not get to fulfill your destiny by yourself.”

If there were betrayal worse than the hunger of wolves, it would be this: Ben showing up on Sofia's front door. Had this happened all those years ago, when she was just a stranger, just an unknown woman, and he a lonely man, it wouldn't have mattered. But the truth of the fact was that Sofia was engaged to Ben's brother now. Any attempt to bring up whatever past they shared would break hearts - either Ben's, Sofia's, or somebody else's. Still, Ben couldn't stop himself. He knew better, but still he knocked. It made little sense to him, too, of what he wanted out of this. But, in his chest was a rising feeling of anxiety and excitement - all coming together in one sentence as Sofia opened the door. "We... We need to talk."

TITLE: Ghost in the Room LOCATION: Finley’s residence TIMELINE: Present

It had only been a few week since moving into his new place and he was already having issues with it. Finn must’ve called the super at least three times in the past two weeks, asking them to check the wiring in his place. He swore that every other day the lights flickered on and off, the duration being different each time, but the super said everything was fine every time they came in to look. It was becoming ridiculous and extremely frustrating, especially because he was bringing work home and the lack of electricity was hindering his work. 

Thankfully, the past few days had quiet, but he doubted it would remain that way for long. “All right, time to get some work done,” he murmured to himself. Powering up his camera, Finn started fiddling with the footage he had on his computer. His assignment was to put together footage for a news segment later in the week about some protest that was going on, but he needed to make sure he had enough footage. 

Luckily, Finn had been able to make a huge dent in his workload before the lights began to flicker again. “For fucks sake,” he uttered. Checking over his computer, he saved all his progress in the off chance all the power in his place shut off unexpectedly. “I swear, I am going to leave once my lease is up.” Getting up from his space, Finn started going around his apartment to look at his outlets. Maybe something was eating up his power and causing it to malfunction. 

It hurt. It hurt to be here. Irene Streep was so often in pain, of course, that this would seem to be any normal occurrence. But this pain was different. This pain was fire. This pain was a shooting thing through her entire body, a wild spark, a hundred ignitions. Her body, a fragile thing, went into shock as the pain took place. Her body, a fragile thing, felt like it was going through the fire again. Only, of course, she didn’t know there had been a fire. She was a ghost --- this much was evident to her --- but she didn’t know why.

What hurt more was seeing this man in this home. Seeing him here, doing his work, being normal, made Irene hurt. Was it because she didn’t have this anymore? Was it because she could never have it again? It didn’t help that the home was so familiar, and yet Irene couldn’t place a finger as to why she was so drawn to it. Or him. Or any of these things.

The last two weeks have been filled with electricity surges, with pain rooting through her entire being, with fire, fire, FIRE.

A scream left Irene’s lips --- and, for the first time in a long time, she felt real. She was curled into a ball by the door, the same way she’d been when the fire struck her home and took her and her family along with it. Was this the same thing? It felt like the same thing. Only, Irene couldn’t remember. She didn’t have a point of reference to call this the same, but it sure as hell felt like it.

She was a goddamn ghost, this was for sure. But, for some reason, she’d materialized into a physical body. Why?

Though it was difficult, Aida tried not to look too surprised at Jack’s definition of their relationship. It felt oddly comforting to hear that at the very least he, too, thought of them as exes. They might not have been exclusive at the time, but it was nice to hear nonetheless – and not at all what she’d been expecting. She chuckled flatly at his words, however, averting her gaze to her hands to avoid from grimacing. “Right, we’re here to play,” she confirmed nonetheless, forcing a smile onto her lips as she met Jack’s gaze again. Looking for any excuse not to hold it too long, Aida took a deep breath and said, “Okay, I’ll start!” She turned her attention to the two stacks of cards next to them, picking a card from the one closest to her. “How–,” she started, though fell silent as her eyes skipped ahead. “Oh, wow, uh, okay, diving right into it, apparently…“ She had to clear her throat to regain her verbal strength, eyes never once leaving the piece of paper. “How long did it take you to get over us, and what did you do to help yourself get over it?” There was something heavy in her eyes when she mustered up the courage to smile at him, putting down the card. “If you’re feeling thirsty there’s… no need to waste your voice on a response or anything, there’s alcohol right there,” she said, passing it off as yet another one of her sardonic jokes as she gestured to the alcohol. “Just so you know.” And while it was a joke in many regards, seeing not only as he could reply however he wanted, but, part of Aida was curious as to what he would say… part of her also didn’t know if she truly wanted the answer to that question. 

The question came like an earthquake: a rumbling sensation that Jack should’ve seen coming, but didn’t. He should’ve known such a question would come up, and he’d expected it, but now that it was asked of him, he didn’t quite know how to react to it. He tried to read the expression on Aida’s features, but it was difficult to. Her joke, to him, could only mean that she didn’t want to hear the answer. Or did she? Didn’t they both deserve the answer? Jack finally gave a weak chuckle and answered the question. “Uh--- two months? I think.” Looking at Aida felt like the wrong thing to do, so he didn’t. Instead, Jack looked to the bottles of vodka in front of him. “I--- had a lot of sex. With different people. You know, it’s, uh---” Jack chuckled again, this time with a shake of his head. “You know how it is.” He picked a card. “Okay, here’s one: Do you regret going out with me?”

Surprise flashed across Aida’s face at Jack’s words. “Wow, that’s… very poetic of you,” she couldn’t help but say, her words regaining some of their usually sardonic tone, the tone everyone in her life had to get used to sooner or later. It was weird, thinking of how that tone hadn’t changed a bit in the last two years – if Aida could be more bothered with that thought, she’d almost have an existential crisis about being stagnant. Luckily, she’d never been one for the dramatics. At least not… when it came to that stuff. When it came to Jack, to seeing him again, to thinking of what their relationship had been like, she felt like a theater major trying to find the most over the top way to internally perform a soliloquy. Thoughts and feelings raced in every direction, a wild, pell-mell mess of chaos that made Aida want to scream. “I–,” she started, though the producer interrupted her just in time to tell them to take a seat. Giving Jack a shrug and a grimace, Aida moved into the center of the studio, sitting down opposite where Jack would sit. On the table stood an assortment of alcohol bottles, ranging from vodka to tequila, complete with shot glasses. Aida turned her gaze to the camera, to the producer, anywhere but Jack. Could you introduce yourselves and your relationship? Look into the camera, please. The producer’s words echoed in the studio, and Aida could feel heart her speed up again. “I’m Aida,” she said as casually as she could, “and this is, uh…” She paused, to let Jack say his own name. “And we’re… we used to–…” Fuck, how would she define their relationship? To her, they were exes, but what were they to Jack? Their relationship had meant something different to her at the time, she knew as much. Slightly panicked eyes sought Jack’s, hoping he could finish her train of thought and save her.

It wasn’t meant to be poetic --- nothing Jack ever did was supposed to be ---, but he allowed Aida to take it as she wanted to. It was tough to fight with her now, much tougher than compared to when he was tangled in sheets with her. It was easier, then, to mistake her feelings for silliness. Now, he knew to just agree when she said something. This much, he’d learned in their last two years apart. Jack waited for her to answer his question when the producers invited them to take a seat; he then waited for her to make the first move before taking the seat opposite her. As opposed to Aida, however, Jack did not avoid her gaze. While she found a way to look at everything but him, his gaze were locked --- in fact, maybe even searching --- for hers. Would she be able to read his apology then? When the producer asked them to look into the camera, Jack followed. He then filled in the blanks of Aida’s sentence, filled in the parts when he should speak. However, when she lingered for a definition of their relationship, Jack found himself pausing, too. Only after a beat, and after seeing the small look of panic in Aida’s eyes, did he continue. “Well --- Well, we’re exes.” For somebody who wasn’t too calm himself, Jack found himself level-headed. “We shared something. It was definitely something.” He chuckled, albeit shyly, at this. “And today we’re playing Truth or Drink. Right?”

@langit-lupa

This was starting to feel more and more like a mistake by the minute. All around Aida the crew of the YouTube channel were chatting happily as they set up the studio, yet the noises of the bustle seemed distant. Far away. Her own heartbeats echoed in her ears, a rhythm that ticked like a clock and blocked out all other sounds. Maybe she could talk to her friend before he showed up, give her some well-oiled lie about Jack being a no-show? Jack would be none the wiser. Not if Aida never contacted him again after giving him a separate lie about some cancellation. She didn’t care about lying. She didn’t care about morals. Not in the moment, at least. Just when Aida had her escape plan all figured out, however, movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention and plunged her back into the bustle of the studio. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him; real, alive, in person for the first time in two whole years. And then he saw her, and her heart plunged itself up her throat, pressing with all its might. “Hi,” Aida greeted him as casually as she could when he approached, hating how breathless she sounded in spite of it. “I was beginning to think you were chickening out on me,” she added, though her words weren’t drenched in their usual amount of sardonicism. 

Whenever Jack imagined bumping into Aida again, it was always in a public place when they were both on good terms with what had happened. They would be good, make small conversation, and then maybe exchange numbers for the sole reason of never contacting each other again. He didn’t think she’d want anything to do with him, and he would never force it upon her to forgive. If there were a list, this would have been the last place he would’ve imagined for them to meet again in. This, meaning a video project for some of her friends about their past relationship --- if one could call it that. Though Jack didn’t understand it, he agreed nonetheless. He did want to see Aida again, and he did want her forgiveness. Maybe this could be the bridge to fix all of that. He made sure to arrive on the set without much time to spare though, just to ensure that awkward conversations would be placed to a minimum. Seeing Aida alone was enough to make his chest ache; Jack wouldn’t know how to hold a conversation without bursting into an apology. He managed to smile, however, when she greeted him. “Almost,” he said, “but I’ve been chicken too many times to be chicken again.” He gave a tilted look. “Any idea what questions they’re going to ask?”

“This is not who you are. In the quiet moments that do not involve death, you know this. You know you have become somebody new, inhumane and unjustifiable. You have since learned: not to flinch at the sounds of gunshots, not to cry when somebody dies, not to scream when loved ones are lost. You have since learned: the weak do not live, do not survive. This may not be who you are, but this is who you needed to become in order to survive.”

          The company came about out of nowhere; one day Jack was travelling alone and then the other he had four people joining him – one woman and three other men, a family, apparently, who didn’t know where to go to seek refuge; Jack decided that sticking with them and guiding them to the nearest safe post is something he can do – he’s in no way a leader but he can never turn a blind eye to someone who needs help, especially that he’s headed where they should be headed as well. Jack has been checking out every safe outpost since this thing started, no matter where in the country the settlement was – he goes. All so maybe one day he’ll finally find Seb.

         When he does it’s in a way he’s never really imagined. 

        They’re captured so fast that he’s not even sure when or how it happens and they’re taken somewhere, he doesn’t know how far it is from when they were last because a punch to the head made him pass out for the entire thing. When he wakes, there’s someone already waiting and as soon as he’s back to himself, he’s dragged out and lined with the rest of his new friends, whom he’s relieved to see alive. Then there’s another man, giving them long and cautious looks and before he knows it he’s got a bag pulled over his head and he’s getting dragged somewhere again and no matter how hard he’s struggling, the hold doesn’t break. He’s not stupid, he knows how the world work now but he was hoping for some decency and humanity to be left. He was very wrong to think that.

         “What are you doing? Stop! Don’t do this, let us go!” Jack screams out when his frustration finally needs an outlet; he’s ready to put up a fight again and try to struggle out of the hold but for some reason it lessens by itself; then the hood is off his head and he’s facing the man that he’s been looking for.

          “Seb?” He utters, his throat dry; he was ready to scream more just a second ago but now he’s unable to; his voice turns into something both relieved and defeated; happy but pathetic. “Seb, it’s me. What is this? What’s going on?”

Over the course of the year, Seb had imagined his reunion with Jack an uncountable number of times. The dreams he had of them being together again came nightly, before the rise of Hillview came and he had had to forget his roots. But, even when they came more rarely, each reunion felt real. Each dream, each touch, each kiss --- all within the grasp of fingertips, all as vivid as they were the last time they’d actually kissed.

But, somewhere along the line, Seb had dismissed them to be just dreams. He knew he could never return to the life he once had with Jack, and could never return to simply making day to day meet. He had become somebody now --- and he had to live with it.

To see the face of his lover now, alive and relieved and defeated and happy, was not a dream. Rather, a nightmare. Wide awake and real and aching. A throbbing pulse at the back of his mind. A searing pain through his chest.

A crossroad was thus presented to Seb: if he chose to spare everybody’s life for the sole reason of a lover --- of whom his comrades did not know about ---, his reputation would be jeopardized. But, if he chose to make do with their lives, it would not only kill Jack but also himself. Though Jack had simply said his name, a memory from a long time ago that Seb had not heard in this manner, the pain that resonated within him was big enough to course throughout his entire body. His usual stoic expression had turned into that of pain.

With a single gesture, he had ordered the cloth to be placed over Jack’s head again. He had to make a decision.

“Spare the man who dares speak out,” Seb said, finally, as he turned away from the sight of Jack, “and another. Maybe the woman.”

Then, with another gesture, the bullets went off.

For the first time after he had gotten used to all this, Seb flinched. He had hoped nobody saw, because the mention of his name and the flinch would be enough to tell a story. When he faced his men, he had the same stoic expression he wore --- only, this time, forced to hide a raw kind of pain he had not felt in so long.

“Take the woman to the infirmary.” Seb paused. “I’ll deal with the man myself.”

“You are happy. In the quiet moments of your life, you tell yourself this. You repeat it over and over and over --- a mantra, a prayer ---, and one day hope that you’ll feel it as much as you say it. See, the truth is you are still looking for yourself. Still looking for something worthwhile. Still searching for something to call yours, something to call worthy. Or someone to call you worthy. After all, what is a life worth if nobody approves? What is a life worth if nobody thinks it worthy?”