Once the sun rays settled inside the room, Sooha woke up.
The warm, golden sun made the room cozier compared to the white light from the night before.
He stretched and then snuggled deeper into the sheets.
It was probably the coziest he had been in a while, since comparing the softness of this bed and those at site 76 was futile.
He felt safe.
His parents hadn't betrayed him and were also safe; it was a relief that he had only now realized.
Sliding out of the sheets, he undressed, slipping into the clothes from yesterday and leaving the pajamas packed on the side of the bed.
Upon leaving the room, a sweet smell hit him.
Way too familiar for comfort.
Strawberry tarts.
He let himself imagine those brown curls and emerald eyes.
The smile that would make his heart flutter, even though he would never admit it.
Sooha still missed him, but he wasn't there; he knew.
He headed towards the table with a soft smile on his lips, a form of acceptance, of everything.
He picked up the note by the tart tray, which said in neat handwriting,
" Hope the strawberry one is still your favourite. -D."
"This man…" Sooha chuckled and sighed.
How did he even still remember, Sooha thought.
He sat at the table, the scent still strong, still calming after everything that happened.
But he didn't dive in; he couldn't.
It was indeed — bittersweet.
And he wanted to eat it with Luke; he couldn't even blame Damien for him anymore.
Now, Luke was just gone.
And to distract himself from the thoughts, he glanced around.
But then he noticed something.
Decorations lined the cupboards, and the shelves were the things from the box that Sooha found last night.
Then it clicked.
They were never hidden in that box; they were like this all along…
And the apartment was not sterile and empty… it was clean.
It was too clean… and he realized the reason for it was — him.
Damien still thought Sooha suffered from the same fear of contamination he had as a child.
This was that one thing that unraveled him…
He couldn't blame Damien for anything anymore after this.
His elbows hit the table, and his palms covered his eyes as he sniffled and cried.
He cried there for no one knows how long as he thought of Damien keeping all these memories.
Making everything he knew of Sooha into his world.
It was an obsession, Sooha knew.
But now, in this world and this state.
He didn't even mind — for it was more important to him to have someone care this deeply about him than for that person to be perfect.
He finally took the spoon and tried the tart.
It was the first thing he'd eaten since yesterday, and still the tastiest he'd had in ten years.
As the flavours melted on his tongue, the saltiness of his tears only made the sweetness hit that much more.
He felt eleven once again.
He dived into it and ate, ate, and ate until there was nothing left.
The sugar made him feel sick, but he didn't care.
He enjoyed every single bite despite the tears that were falling down his cheeks.
It numbed the pain that ached in his chest and dulled the hunger he felt, not for food but for something else.
Something familiar, something human.
Because it hit him that for days now, he was so dissociated from reality, living in survival mode.
Other than the realization of his family being there, others flooded in.
Yuna, Damien, everyone else—they were all alive, and they all still cared deeply for him.
He once again had everything.
And it did cost him someone.
But Luke would have wanted him to have this and be safe and happy with those who cared about him.
And so Sooha promised that one more reason he would fight the corruption that plagued Elysium was indeed for Luke.
His death was on them, just like countless others.
His hatred finally shifted.
From Damien and himself to those who made them like this.
Now he understood why Damien wanted Sooha to meet his father.
And he couldn't wait to do so.
Breathing suddenly felt easier, even against all the tart he stuffed himself with.
He wanted Damien to come back already and take him to the Tower.
Unintentionally, he got up from the chair and went into the room.
Damien's room.
The bed was made, and the leathery perfume he had used this morning still lingered.
He wanted to hug him, tell him how strong he was for staying human despite everything.
So he just slid into his bed and hugged the pillow.
The strawberry tart he overate was doing its job — lulling him back to sleep.