Clara
Finally we're alone.
While his enthusiasm and ability to bring people together is one of the things I like about him, it can be annoying when you want one-on-one time with him. He's always surrounded by people.
I glance back at Alister, seeing him talking to Stephanie.
I wanted to stop the others from forcing him to come here. With his hallucinations and general dislike of people, I knew he'd be uncomfortable. We don't want a repeat of last time.
But I knew if I said anything, it'd look like I'm worried about him.
And I'm definitely not. Even after that guilty look on his face when he grabbed my arm. Like he wanted to say something important but couldn't find the words.
I shake my head and force myself to focus on Zach. No troublesome thoughts allowed.
"The show's about to begin." He says as he suddenly holds my hand and pulls me towards the crowd. A jolt runs through my body, causing me to feel conscious about my sweaty hands.
We stare at the stage as the lights dim, a hush falls over the crowd, and the air is electric with anticipation. The stage suddenly erupts with colors and lights. The sound system roars to life, pulsating with a rhythmic energy that seems to reverberate deep within the chest.
I don't really care for the show. But since I'm with him, I shouldn't try to let the loud noises bother me.
Zach's eyes, which never seem to lose their sparkle, look at the performance excitedly.
How is he always like this? Since the first time I saw him at orientation, he hasn't changed a bit.
I remember the day all too well.
He almost died.
Jumping into the pool just for someone's treasured necklace that they got from their mom, while not knowing how to swim, was really stupid of him and a disaster waiting to happen. Yet even after someone saved him, he still managed to smile as he handed the item back.
He cares about the most insignificant things and yet never backs out when life always pushes him down.
I look down at his hand, then reach for it.
Say, if I stand next to you like this, will I ever get to be like you? Will you let me into your bright world and let me move through life the way you do? Owing nothing to it and fearing even less. And maybe, deep down, I'm just hoping that if I stand close enough…Some of that fearlessness and optimism will bleed into me.
My fingers brush against his, and he turns to me, surprised. His gaze drops to where our hands met, then lifts to my face. As our eyes lock, the chaos of the surroundings melts away, and for a fleeting moment, it's as if time stands still.
He then leans toward me, and my throat tightens.
"What's wrong? Not liking the show?" He yells into my ear. I feel my heart rate go down with disappointment. The air is sucked out of the moment, leaving me feeling deflated and a little foolish.
"No, it's fine!" I yell back, trying to reach him through the music and noise. "It's just a bit loud, that's all!" My hands fidget with the lace of my dress. Why is this so awkward? I don't know what to say.
He then grabs my arm. In any other situation, it would have sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but I force a neutral expression on my face, trying to hide the sting of the bruise, and look up at Zach as he begins to pull me through the crowd.
I stumble slightly as I'm dragged along, my feet struggling to keep up with his purposeful stride. People seem to close in around us, a blur of faces and colors as we push our way through. We finally break free and stop near a bench.
"I guess it was too loud." He says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
I stare at the ground as I try to gather my thoughts. "Zach, can… I ask you something? It might sound a bit weird."
He shrugs with a grin. "Shoot."
"...How do I be like you?"
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to pull them back. They sound so childish, so desperate—but I don't know any other way to say it. The question that swirls in my mind whenever I see him.
He chuckles. "Why would you want to be like me?"
"You just… You look like you've got everything figured out. Like life doesn't really get to you, so..." I trail off feeling embarrassed.
These past few days with Alister just made me look at my life more closely. I don't feel happy.
To be truly happy, one needs to be content with their lives. We are always chasing this feeling. Doing everything in our power to be happy and satisfied with who we are and where we're at. For me, when I look at Zach, he seems to have reached that point. Always so...bright and content with everything. Like a knight in shining armor. If I'm with him, everyday will be filled with joy and warmth.
He bursts out laughing, throwing his head back, further making me wish the earth would just open up and swallow me whole already before I embarrass myself more. "I can't believe you think that highly of me."
He plops down on the bench too, slouching comfortably like we're just two kids skipping class.
"I don't know what's going on with you, but… look, no one really has it all together. You can have everything people think matters and still feel like you're not enough. If you're chasing perfection, you're going to burn out. Sometimes, it's just about recognizing what you have and being content with it."
"Does...that work for you?" I ask him curiously.
"Of course it does." He says and abruptly stands up, avoiding my gaze. "Come on, let's get some food before Steph dies of hunger."
But...I wasn't done talking. Was I dampening the mood?
As I follow him, I touch my arm where the bruise is. Next to the cigarette burns. The ones made by Daniel last night as he laughed after I found him waiting for me in my room when I got back. I try to focus on that pain as I can feel my future image of us together starting to crack. And the empty void of nothingness peeking through it.
This trip, which I thought would bring us closer, has only highlighted the distance between us.
As we get back to the group after getting some pizza, Stephanie immediately gets up. "Food! Finally!" She yells, snatching it away from my hands and diving straight into it.
When we settle down, I sit beside Steph, and her studded vest pokes my bruise. I do my best to not yelp out in pain.
"Come with me for a sec, will you?" Alister asks, getting up.
"What is it?" I ask back. We've just sat down, what does he want now?
"It's something urgent." He presses, and before I can ask him again, he's walking away, prompting me to follow him.
We eventually arrive at the medical center, a nondescript building with a simple sign above the door. He tells me to wait before he goes in. Minutes later, he walks out carrying a small bag.
"Sit over here." he says, pointing towards a bench under the tree away from everyone.
As soon as I sit, and before I can even process what's happening, he reaches out and grabs my wrist. My face flames with embarrassment as he raises my arm, eyes fixed on the sleeve.
"W-what are you doing?" I choke out, panic bubbling in my throat as he pulls the sleeve down, exposing the bruises on my arm. Blooming on my skin like rotting fruit.
I feel a surge of humiliation and vulnerability as I try to pull my arm back to cover them and hide my shame. I don't want him to see this. I don't want anyone to see this. But his grip remains firm. His eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of it.
"Let go." I spit back, trying to reclaim a sliver of control. "You've seen it now. Aren't you satisfied?"
"He might threaten you, but that's all he'll ever do." Alister says matter-of-factly as he unscrews the cap and squeezes out a line of ointment onto his finger. "He won't expose anything."
"What are you talking about?" I ask cautiously as I glare at him.
"Daniel." he says simply.
The name alone makes my stomach twist.
"He has no interest in the family business. Despises everyone involved—especially his father. Revealing your secret to everyone means his dad will be the new inheritor, and he will be his successor after him. Which means more responsibility. Expectations. All the things he runs from." Alister's fingers are unexpectedly gentle as he dabs the ointment onto the darkest bruise. It stings.
"It's too much for someone like him who lives frivolously and is already told off for it. So, you have the upper hand here."
I know all that. I've known that for so long. But it's like someone telling you fire won't burn this time—just touch it, they say. It's safe. Cold, even. You want to believe them, but you can still feel the last burn throbbing beneath your skin.
"I don't need your pity. I may be weak—"
"Having the power to do something about your situation, yet refusing to do anything, doesn't make you weak; it makes you a coward." He interrupts. "What I feel is more frustration than pity."
Why do I feel like I'm getting scolded? It's annoying.
"...Why are you doing this?" I murmur, my voice more tired than angry now. "Is this your way of fixing things?"
"I don't know." He answers with a thoughtful expression on his face. Like his body is moving on its own.
I don't like it. I don't like seeing him act this way, and I feel more embarrassed about what I said last night. It's as if I were drunk on emotion or something. I didn't even hear him out.
"What I also don't know or understand..." he says before stepping back and getting down on one knee. My eyes narrow as I follow his movement, unsure where this is going. "Is that if you hate me so much, then why didn't you drive away when you had the chance? You could have escaped when you saw me like that. And why give me this rubber band?"
I freeze as he takes off my shoe and touches my ankle to observe the cut.
Lightning. That's what it feels like. My fingers dig into the bench as the sensation echoes up my leg and explodes behind my ribs. I feel utterly exposed.
When did he see the cut? Did the bastard catch me wincing as I walked?
I stay quiet for a while. Not sure what to do with the warmth climbing up my face. For someone who doesn't like to be touched, he sure doesn't respect my personal boundaries.
"I don't know either." I sigh as I lean back and close my eyes. "I think I just...saw myself in you or something. Crying, breaking down like that, looking pretty pitiful." I smirk and glance down at him.
His brow twitches, trying not to frown, while he carefully sticks a bandaid on my ankle. "I see. So it was about self-pity. Feeling emotionally fulfilled or seeing yourself as a kind person who is even generous to monsters like me."
I roll my eyes. "Either you never learned the word thank you, or you're too stubborn to say it." He glares back at me, and I smirk. "Guess it's both then."
I suppose this is his way of both gratitude and apology. He really is too prideful.
"I...might have ran into those artifact hunters last night." I finally reveal.
"What!?" As expected, his wide amber eyes look up at me in surprise. "And you're telling me this now? After more than half a day has gone by?"
I hold my chin high, trying to keep the irritation from bubbling up. "I wasn't sure you could be trusted with any information until I confirmed you were being serious about the truce."
He raises a brow. "Wasn't me not confronting you about the coat you stole as revenge enough proof?"
To that I have nothing to say, except look away.
He sighs, gets back up, and sits at the far end of the bench. The distance feels intentional, like he needs a moment to collect himself. His forearms resting on his knees as he leans forward. "Go ahead."
And so I begin telling him about everything that happened after his phone call, watching as he listens intently.
"Invisibility?" He interrupts when I get to that part, more to himself than to me. He drops his gaze to the ground, thinking. I wait for the sarcasm. For the jab about how ironic it is. Or maybe he'll use the chance to brag, to say how much more useful his power is.
But it never comes.
"You'd make a great spy," he says instead, glancing back at me. "Having exceptional marksmanship and the ability to slip into anyplace, undetected? This gives us a great advantage."
The sincerity in his voice takes a second to register.
"Keep practicing," he continues. "Time how long you can stay hidden. And if you feel any side effects, stop immediately."
A strange warmth spreads through my chest—an unexpected rush of pride. It's such a simple thing, the way he says it. Like, it's obvious I'm capable.
I feel like he sees me the way I've waited my whole life to be seen. As someone strong. Someone who matters.
And somehow, that acknowledgment hits harder than any insult he's ever thrown my way.
I take a breath and continue the story. I tell him about the pipe, the woman, the retreat—every detail. When I finish, he frowns.
"Why didn't you fight back and try to get answers?"
"Because murdering people isn't my first instinct." I retort, rolling my eyes. "It's survival. Trying to go head-to-head with people when I don't even know what weapons they're hiding is foolish."
I glance at him. "Not everything's solved with brute force. You tried that method. Did you get the answers we needed?"
He doesn't reply right away. His lips press into a hard line as he looks away.
"…Could've at least destroyed their items," he mumbles, snapping his rubber band again. "The fewer toys they have, the better."
My eyes flick down. The skin of his wrist is starting to redden with the continuous snapping.
He then stands and brushes dust off his jeans. "Let's go. Before the others get suspicious."
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from grinning and asking him. Suspicious? Of what, exactly?
As we walk, I glance down again at his wrist. He hasn't been gentle with it. Hasn't cared to be. "Hey, what do you see when you hallucinate?"
His hand freezes just an inch away from the band, then slowly lowers.
"…Unpleasant stuff." He says, not meeting my gaze. "Things from the past. Just… things I'd rather die than remember."
There's hesitation in his tone. I should drop it. Should give him the silence he clearly wants.
But instead, I do the exact opposite. My need to tease is starting to overflow.
"I suppose." I drawl. "I can allow you to hold me again if it gets too much. You know—if you feel like breaking down."
He groans, already regretting sharing anything with me. I press on, merciless.
"And who knows?" I mercilessly continue, lifting a brow. "Maybe next time you can catch me if I happen to fall. Real chivalrous. A full-circle moment."
He clicks his tongue, and he shoots me a glare. "I don't need you."
I clutch my chest with mock offense. "Really? Because you were holding onto me pretty tightly yesterday."
He closes his eyes to contain his frustration as I wrap my arms around myself in an exaggerated reenactment. "I can still feel them." I whisper theatrically. "Those unmanly hands… gripping me…"
"If you don't stop. I'll use those hands to strangle your neck."
My smirk only widens. "Trying to come up more excuses to touch me again? How desperate."
He storms off ahead, boots crunching harder than necessary on the path.
I burst into laughter, loud and unfiltered, trailing after him, not caring for a second who's watching me.