Kai Langford - October 2120
I keep walking long after the sound of their voices disappears, letting the distance stretch until the night feels wide and empty around me, even though my head refuses to follow.
My body moves on its own, each step landing too hard against the pavement, like I'm trying to outrun something that isn't behind me but lodged somewhere in my chest.
The cold air presses against my skin and fills my lungs, sharp enough to ground me in everything physical, yet it does nothing to dull the weight building inside.
Ethan's face stays with me, clear and unrelenting.
I can still feel the way his hands clutched my shirt, the fabric pulling tight between his fingers as if I might disappear the second he let go.
There was nothing controlled about him in that moment, no careful restraint, no filtered emotion, just raw panic breaking through in a way I've never seen from him before.
The sound of his voice lingers the most, uneven and cracking, like every word cost him something just to get out.
Noah's reaction settles differently, heavier in a quieter way.
He didn't fall apart like Ethan did, but that doesn't make it easier to carry. If anything, it makes it worse. He reduced it to facts, to probabilities and outcomes, dissecting it piece by piece until it sounded like something distant and clinical instead of what it actually was.
I know that's how he copes, how he keeps control when everything threatens to slip, but hearing it said out loud like that strips away any space I had left to ignore it.
I slow without realising it, the urgency draining out of my steps as the memories I've kept buried start pushing back up with more force than usual. It isn't sudden or explosive. It's steady, creeping in through the cracks I didn't notice forming.
The room comes back first, dim and suffocating, followed by the feeling of restraints biting into my wrists, holding me in place while everything else spiralled out of control.
I remember the way the I begged my father to kill me. To let me end the suffering and pain.
My pace falters completely before I come to a stop, the silence around me thickening as I stand there with nothing to distract me from it anymore. The faint sounds of the ocean in the distance feel too far away to matter, leaving me alone with the tight pressure in my chest that makes it harder to breathe properly if I focus on it too much.
I close my eyes for a moment, not to escape it but to contain it, forcing my breathing to slow into something controlled and deliberate. That's the only way this works. Control has always been the difference between holding it together and letting everything fall apart, and I can't allow myself to forget that, no matter how much easier it would be to stop trying.
When my hands curl slightly at my sides, the shadows respond immediately, sliding across the ground toward me in a way that feels almost instinctive.
They gather near my feet without resistance, brushing lightly against my shoes as if waiting for direction that I don't give. It calms me a little to know they're there. Like I am not completely alone.
But my mind keeps going back to Ethan. He saw all of it...
Not just the parts I can carry without thinking, not just the fragments that feel distant enough to ignore, but the worst moment, the one I've never let any of them get close to. There's no way to control how that looks from the outside. No way to explain it without turning it into something real again.
My chest tightens further at the thought of the way he looked at me, like I was already halfway gone.
For a brief moment, I consider continuing forward and putting more distance between us, because distance has always been the easiest solution. If I'm not there, they can't ask questions. They can't look at me like i'm broken.
If I keep walking I don't have to figure out how to respond to something I've spent years avoiding.
But the idea doesn't hold. I could never just walk away when it comes to them.
Ethan is still back there, and I know exactly how his mind works when he's scared. He'll blame himself, even if there's no logical reason to, even if none of this has anything to do with him.
Noah won't let it go either, not after seeing something like that. He'll keep pushing, keep analysing, trying to understand every detail until he reaches something that makes sense to him.
I let out a slow breath and tilt my head back slightly, staring up at the dark, clouded sky as if it might offer some kind of clarity. But It doesn't. It just stretches on, empty and indifferent, giving me nothing to focus on except the decision I'm avoiding.
Running would be easier... Going back would be harder.
So I decide to stay where I am for a few seconds longer, letting the tension in my shoulders ease just enough to move without feeling like I'm about to snap, then shift my weight and start walking again.
This time there's no urgency driving me forward, no attempt to escape what's already caught up to me. Instead, I angle my path slightly, no longer moving away from them but not heading straight back either, giving myself just enough space to breathe without completely cutting the connection.
I'm not ready to face them yet, not with everything still sitting this close to the surface, but I'm not leaving them behind either.
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I don't know how long i've been walking for.
My focus is still turned inward, caught somewhere between memory and control, so when my shoulder collides with something solid, it jars through me harder than it should. The impact is firm, unmoving, like I've walked straight into a wall that decided to exist in the exact wrong place.
I stop instantly, my body reacting before my mind catches up, shadows flickering faintly at my feet in quiet response.
"Careful there, my lad"
The voice is calm, steady, carrying an easy weight to it that doesn't match the tension still coiled under my skin.
I look up.
Ray stands there, barely shifted by the collision, like I hadn't even been moving fast enough to matter. There's no edge to him, no immediate reaction of irritation or defensiveness, just a quiet awareness as his eyes settle on me.
For a second, neither of us speaks.
His gaze moves over my face, not in a sharp or invasive way, but observant enough to catch what most people would miss. The tightness in my posture. The tension in my jaw. The fact that my breathing isn't as steady as it should be.
My attention drifts briefly past him, like part of me is still trying to decide whether to keep moving or stop completely.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention" I say eventually, my voice quieter than usual but controlled.
Ray hums softly, like he doesn't quite believe that's the whole story, but he doesn't push it. Instead, he shifts his weight slightly, folding his arms loosely across his chest as he glances past me in the direction I came from.
"Out for a midnight walk?" he asks, casual, but there's something under it. Not suspicionm just awareness.
I follow his glance for half a second before looking away again.
"Something like that."
The answer is vague, and we both know it.
Ray exhales slowly through his nose, then looks back at me, his expression unchanged, calm and steady as ever. "You're a bit far from 'something like that'," he says, not unkindly.
I don't respond.
For a moment, the silence stretches between us, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable. It just… sits there.
Then his gaze drops slightly, just enough to catch the faint movement at my feet. At the shadows.
They've crept further than I realised, thin strands stretching outward, shifting subtly like they're reacting to something I haven't fully contained.
Ray's brow lifts a fraction.
"Didn't take you for the type to let it slip like that" he comments, nodding lightly toward the ground.
My eyes follow his, and I notice it properly this time. The shadows pause, then, almost immediately, they retreat, pulling back toward me as I force them under control again.
"I'm fine" I say, a little sharper than I intended.
Ray doesn't react to the tone. If anything, he just nods once, like that answer is enough for him, even if it isn't.
"I didn't say you weren't."
Another pause settles in, quieter this time.
I shift slightly, the urge to move returning, to keep walking before this turns into something more than a passing interaction. But my feet don't follow through straight away.
Ray watches that hesitation, not in a way that calls attention to it, just noticing.
"You heading somewhere," he asks, "or just trying to burn off some steam?"
His voice stays even, no pressure behind the question, just an opening.
I let out a slow breath, glancing past him again, then back.
"…haven't decide yet."
He nods, like that makes sense.
"Fair enough."
For a second, it looks like he's about to step aside and let me pass without another word, like most people would. But he doesn't move straight away.
Instead, he tilts his head slightly, studying me in that same quiet, observant way.
"...You don't look fine" he says, simply.
There's no judgement in it. No demand for an explanation.
Just a statement.
My jaw tightens slightly, instinctively.
"I said i'm fine"
Ray's lips twitch faintly at that, not quite a smile, but close enough to soften the edge of the moment.
"That's a bad lie" he replies.
A small breath leaves me, quieter than intended, some of the tension easing without my permission.
The silence returns again, but this time it feels different. Less like something pressing in, more like something steady.
Ray finally shifts, stepping slightly to the side, giving me a clear path forward.
But as he does, he adds, almost as an afterthought, "Whatever's chasing you, you don't need to outrun it tonight."
My gaze flicks back to him. He doesn't elaborate... Doesn't need to.
The words settle heavier than they should.
I hold his gaze for a second longer, then look away, my shoulders easing just enough to move again.
This time, when I step forward, it isn't as sharp, not as driven by the need to escape.
I pass him, but I don't go far.
After a few steps, I stop.
The quiet stretches again, the night wrapping around us, and for the first time since I walked away from them, I don't feel like I'm being pulled in two different directions.
"…Ray."
He glances back at me, waiting.
I hesitate, the words sitting uncomfortably before I force them out.
"You ever… not tell someone something because you think it'll just make it worse?"
The question feels heavier than anything I've said tonight.
Ray studies me for a moment, then turns fully this time, his expression still calm, still grounded.
"Yeah," he says. "All the time."
Theres a pause. Then, more quietly, "Doesn't usually make it better though."
I look down slightly, shadows shifting faintly at my feet again, softer this time.
"…yeah."
The word barely leaves my mouth, but it feels like an answer to more than just him.
I keep my gaze lowered for a second longer, watching the shadows shift faintly at my feet before they settle again, quieter now, less restless. My shoulders ease a fraction, not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that I feel the difference.
"You don't have to tell me what it is" Ray says after a moment, his voice low and even, like he's placing the words carefully so they don't push too hard. "But you're carrying it like it's yours alone."
I let out a slow breath, something in my chest tightening again, though not as sharply as before.
"It is mine to carry" I reply, my voice quieter now, lacking the edge it had earlier.
Ray tilts his head slightly, considering that, but he doesn't argue straight away. He just takes a step closer, not enough to crowd me, just enough to close some of the distance I'd created without thinking.
"Yeah," he says. "If something happened to you, that makes it yours."
There's a brief pause before he continues, his tone steady but firmer now.
"But, that doesn't mean you're supposed to deal with it on your own."
I don't respond immediately.
My first instinct is to disagree, to shut it down, because that's how it's always worked. Handle it myself. Keep it contained. Don't let it affect anyone else.
But Ethan's face flashes in my mind again. The way he looked at me like he was terrified I'd disappear.
Noah's voice follows right after, sharp and breaking under something he couldn't control.
My jaw tightens, but this time it isn't defensive... It's something else.
"I didn't want them to see it," I admit finally, the words coming out slower than I expect, like I have to force each one past something stuck in my throat. "That part of it."
Ray doesn't interrupt. He doesn't even shift or ask what I am even talking about.
So I keep going.
"It's not…" I stop briefly, searching for something that actually explains it without sounding like I'm making excuses. "It's not something I can explain properly. Not without…" My expression tightens slightly. "Not without it sounding worse than it was."
Ray watches me carefully, his gaze steady but not heavy.
"Worse than what?" he asks.
I let out a quiet breath, dragging a hand back through my hair again.
"Than it already is."
That earns a small exhale from him, almost like a soft, understanding huff.
"Alright," he says. "Then don't explain it."
I glance up at him, a faint crease forming between my brows.
"That's not how that works" I mutter.
Ray's lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but close.
"Sure it is," he replies. "You're thinking you've got two options. Say everything or say nothing."
He shifts his weight slightly, his tone still calm, but there's something more grounded in it now, something that settles instead of presses.
"You don't."
I don't say anything, but I don't look away either.
"You can tell them just enough," he continues. "Enough so they're not left filling in the gaps with something worse."
My chest tightens slightly at that, because he's right. Ethan will imagine the worst if I give him nothing and Noah will try to calculate it.
Neither of those ends well.
"Whatever happened, remember that people care about you," Ray adds, more quietly now.
I swallow slightly, the tension in my jaw easing just a little.
"I know." The words come out softer than anything I've said tonight.
Ray nods once, like that's enough.
"And you care about them," he says.
It isn't a question. I don't answer it... I don't need to.
The silence that follows feels different again. Lighter somehow, like something's shifted just enough to let me breathe properly.
I exhale slowly, longer this time, and for the first time since I walked away, the tight pressure in my chest eases instead of building.
"They looked at me like I was…" I stop, my expression tightening faintly.
Ray waits.
"…like I wasn't there," I finish quietly. "Like I was already gone."
Saying it out loud feels heavier than I expect.
Ray's expression softens slightly, though his posture stays the same, grounded and steady.
"Or," he says gently, "like they were scared of losing you."
I glance at him.
He holds my gaze without hesitation.
"Those aren't the same thing."
The words settle somewhere deeper than I want them to. I look away again, my shoulders loosening another fraction as I let that sink in.
Ethan wasn't looking at me like I was gone... He was looking at me like he thought I might.
There's a difference. It's a quiet one, but it matters.
I let out another slow breath, running a hand over the back of my neck this time, the tension there not completely gone but manageable now.
"…they're not going to let it go," I say after a moment.
Ray huffs lightly.
"Yeah," he agrees. "They don't look like the type. Especially not when it comes to Ethan."
A faint, almost reluctant hint of a smile pulls at the corner of my mouth before fading.
Another pause settles, but it's not heavy anymore.
It just… sits.
Ray shifts slightly, glancing back in the direction I came from before looking at me again.
"You don't have to go back all at once," he says. "But don't leave them hanging either."
I nod faintly, more to myself than to him.
"I won't."
And I mean it. The decision doesn't feel forced this time.
It just feels… settled.
Ray studies me for another second, then gives a small nod, like he can see the difference.
"Good."
He steps back slightly, giving me space again, but this time it doesn't feel like distance. It just feels like room to move.
I glance past him briefly, toward where I know they still are, then back at him.
"…thanks."
The word isn't something I say often.
Ray doesn't make a big deal out of it. He just nods once, easy and unbothered.
I take a breath, steady and even, then turn properly this time. Not away, but back the way I came.
The shadows follow quietly at my feet, calm and controlled again, no longer pulling or restless.
And for the first time since I walked away, going back doesn't feel like something I'm forcing myself to do.
It just feels like the right direction.