"What do you mean?" Sooha asked, eyes widening before he caught himself.
Damien tilted his head. "It's the curfew. Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
"Oh… right. The curfew." Sooha's shoulders sagged a little too quickly, his relief awkward and unconvincing.
"Everything okay?" Damien's tone softened. "Guest room's down the hall. You can sleep there."
"Mm." Sooha nodded, then added, "I need to use the restroom."
"Second door on the left."
The bathroom was absurdly large with pale marble and chrome, the kind of place that made his reflection look like it didn't belong here. He locked the door and let his back slide against it until he was sitting on the cold tile.
What have I gotten myself into?
The silence outside pressed in, thicker than the night air. From here, the city was a distant smear of light, muffled by double-paneled glass.
What's the point of the curfew? He thought bitterly. This damned city was already the safest space in the region.
Did my disappearance get under his skin that badly? Even after ten years?
Did he have anyone else? Or… was it just a memory of me all these years?
His chest tightened. The more he thought about it, the more the apartment's pristine sterility felt wrong. As if someone had scraped away all evidence of life, then planted carefully chosen objects to fill the void. Objects that felt nothing like Damien.
"Shit-" He winced, looking down to find a bead of blood swelling on his finger. He hadn't even noticed he'd been digging his nail into the skin.
Knock. Knock.
"Sooha? You okay in there?" Damien's voice was low but close, right behind the door.
"Yeah," Sooha said too fast. "Just… give me a minute."
His pulse thudded in his ears. He couldn't stay in here all night.
He washed his hands and splashed some water on his face.
Looking in the mirror, he realized how disheveled he was from the crying and all the ruckus earlier.
He quickly cleaned himself up and exited the bathroom. In front, Damien was still waiting for him, his eyes watery and looking distressed.
"Are you okay?" Sooha asked after seeing him.
"It's fine, it's I am just still processing that you are back, I didn't want to argue with you," Damien said,
"I understand, and I didn't want to lash out at you either. I just had to prove that I am not that weak boy anymore, I think."
"Sooha, you are not weak." He spoke each word with the same weight, reaching for Sooha's hand with the free hand, the other one holding the pajamas and a toothbrush he was about to give to Sooha.
"It's hard to believe that, considering I let him die," Sooha said before taking the stuff Damien was holding for him and retreating to his room.
The guest room was double the size of Sooha's old room, and it had a mixture of white and beige furniture. It all looked way too sterile for Sooha's taste, just like everything else in the apartment.
He changed into the clothes Damien gave him and just left the toothbrush on the night table; he hadn't even eaten anything today, realization just hitting him.
But he just turned in bed and squeezed the pillow even tighter; all he wanted was for the morning to come already.
And it would certainly come, but sleep didn't.
His mind raced with thoughts:
If he had only stopped Luke from going, they would still be happy in site 76.
If he had only told Luke about the mutant that caused the illusion, they wouldn't have swerved off the road.
He was careless.
And Luke made him feel safe.
Now, safety was the only thing he was not feeling.
Tears slipped down onto the pillow that he had imagined as Luke. But it gave him no comfort that hugging Luke would, it was cold, and too soft, it was just a pillow, Damien's pillow.
He wiped his eyes and stood up, his hands at the edge of the bed.
He looked towards the door, which was slightly ajar, and considering that he had given up on sleep, he decided to check on something that was burdening him.
Slowly getting up from the bed, he walked to the door and carefully pushed it open. He didn't want Damien to wake up, that is considering he slept with those eye bags of his.
He found his way to the living room and came to the bookcase that had caught his interest.
The black picture frame that was flipped over, he thought of earlier.
Sooha reluctantly picked it up and turned it around, and just as he had thought, it was his portrait picture from his eleventh birthday, faded, water-stained…. tears.
A feeling of unease fell over him, and a sour smile appeared on his lips as his eyes watered.
There had to be more, he thought.
He started opening the storage boxes on the shelf one by one.
And then he found it.
Full to the brim, every single gift, every single note, picture, toy… anything that had been Sooha's or was given from Sooha to Damien was there.
Even the dried-up flower wreath Sooha made for Damien once, which he never wore, as it was 'too childish'.
All of this made Sooha feel even worse.
The memories flooded back, and he wished he were normal once again.
He wanted to be useful to someone; he craved being helpful; and he dreaded disappointing those he cared about.
And now he failed himself in all of that; all over again.
His mind swallowed him, and a spiral of feeling like he should've done better, been stronger, more useful, less of a … burden.
That's what he was.
A burden, he thought.
To Luke, his parents, to Yuna, to Damien.
If he had never existed, all of them would have had better lives, his mind raced.
"Are you happy with what you found?"
Sooha froze with dread.
Damien stood at the doorway into the living room.