Chapter Text
Cater sighed and picked up the box full of letters again and took out the next letter. He swallowed hard and began to read.
Mama,
I doubt I'll ever get home. Events are racing like a roller coaster, preventing me from finding my way home. I'm constantly falling in free fall and I don't know if I'll land on soft, fluffy blankets or on hard ground from which I can't get up. It's a scary Russian roulette and knowing my luck, I know I'm going to lose. I always lose. But someone has to. Otherwise, there would be no winner if someone didn't lose. That's my role in this game. The eternal loser. The helpless. I have to get over that thought somehow. I have to fight to be better. But what's the point?
You know, Mama, the more time I spend in this world, the more interesting people I meet. People are strange. I didn't know they could be so complicated, yet so simple. Even in this world, teenagers remain teenagers. They can love just as hard as they can hate. They laugh just as much when they are happy. They cry just as much when they are sad. They rage just as much when they are disappointed. They get jealous, they fight, make up and get to know each other from new perspectives. And I just sit here and watch in amazement this speeding roller coaster that they call life. It's strange, as if I am watching the events through the eyes of an outsider, yet I am experiencing everything firsthand on my skin. I am afraid to be a part of their lives because I know that one day the dream will end and I have to go home. I don't want to leave disappointment and sadness behind me. I don't want to leave an unfilled void in their hearts. That's why I always step a little further back. That's why I stay in the background. That's why I help like an invisible hand. I don't need recognition. I don't need memories. Because it's just a dream that I don't know when it will end. It may be selfish to say this, but I want to protect myself from the pain. Because I know that if I love them too much, I won't have the strength to go home... Opening up is so hard. I always have this fear that with one sentence I can change everything they've believed about me. I'm afraid that they'll look down on me behind my back and they won't love me anymore. I feel like I have to pay attention to every little step, every little action, so that I don't mess something up, so that I don't interfere in things that aren't my business. I'm afraid that love is fleeting. Love is a complicated thing. And that's exactly why I hate it. I hate complicated things. I love simplicity. Simple, clear, unchangeable facts. In this house, in this world, I feel like I'm not accepted. I'm an anomaly who has no place here. I want to go home. But I can't. I don't have a home. I don't have one anymore. It's better to be stuck in loneliness than to be lost in the infinite. For me, this is what is comfortable, this is what is good, and it will remain that way.
I'm sorry Mama, I'm not strong. I'm weak and cowardly, so I just suffer. I suffer instead of enjoying life. I feel too much and too little at the same time. One moment I want to burst out of happiness, jumping up and down with excitement, and the next I want to curl up and sob, hiding angry tears behind desperate cries. I know why, Mama, you don't have to lecture me. Acceptance. That's all I want. Acceptance without having to hide my thoughts behind a mask. Without having to suppress my opinions. Without having to think about my sentences before I say them. But I also know that there is no acceptance like this. And I don't believe anyone who dares to say that there is. Protection and acceptance, those are the two most important things to me. This is all I can give to the world and this is all I ask in return. Is that too much to ask, Mama?
I've come to realize a lot in the past few days. I've witnessed events that have opened my eyes, that have given me a new perspective on things that I've only seen from one side. About friendship, betrayal, inner strength, helplessness. I was able to learn about these because of two very special people. These two people are the two ends of a straight line. Where one is strong, the other is weak. Where one is ignorant, the other is wise. Where one has everything, the other has almost nothing. Where one is trying to be persistent, the other has given up long ago. Yes, based on this description, Mama, you might think that these two people are completely different. But in the end, it turns out that the straight line, of which they would be the ends, is not a straight line, but a circle. And where the circle closes, they too must meet and understand each other through their differences. And if they don't succeed, it's both their fault. Neither of them is more flawed than the other. They made a mistake in the same place. Where they were afraid to act. Where they were afraid to say what they really thought. But they can change that. Now, when all the skeletons have fallen out of the closet and they have nothing to hide from each other, they can finally speak honestly to each other, finally accept each other honestly. I wish it could be that way.
So Mama, life doesn't stop here, it's a real roller coaster. And I'm just trying to figure it all out in time. I'm starting to get tired, but I can still move on. I'll rest later, I don't have time right now, I should be studying. So Mama, trust me. As long as you don't lose hope, neither will I. I'll get home one day. I don't know when yet, but I will get home.
Squirrel.
A sound that had been present in the room since the beginning of the letter had intensified after Cater had finished reading. At first, none of them knew where it was coming from. They all looked around, but they couldn’t exactly tell the source of the sound. But finally they figured it out. Contrary to his usual behavior, Kalim was quiet. He huddled silently in a corner and sobbed quietly. No one noticed that the Asim heir had been silently crying since the beginning of the letter. Kalim was not the kind of person who would have been so difficult to notice. Kalim was loud and explosively bright. Whatever he did was accompanied by chaos and loud laughter. That was why this moment seemed surreal now. None of them dared to move or speak. They silently watched as the little white-haired boy sobbed heartbreakingly. Finally, Jamil, with a lump in his throat, stepped forward and knelt down beside Kalim. He hugged him silently.
"I’m sorry, Jamil. I am so, so sorry." Kalim's words were broken and cracked from the pressure of tears.
Jamil couldn't answer, the force squeezing his throat didn't let words escape. Kalim apologized again and again, as if repeating a mantra, sobbing bitterly into Jamil's shoulder. Jamil squeezed his eyes shut to keep his tears from spilling out. Squirrel was right again. In everything. Too much. Squirrel saw everything, heard every unspoken word, and yet said nothing. They stood quietly, in their own way, waiting and helping everyone from the background. As if they knew every little secret they had. How could they know all this? Unless...they had already experienced them personally. Life teaches a person many things. And life taught Squirrel to contemplate. To see, to hear, to listen and to understand, that was Squirrel's job. At least that's what they thought of themself.
Jamil didn't let go of the hug until Kalim's tears died down and then he didn't move, but sat down next to him and rested the smaller boy's head on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Jamil." Kalim repeated again in a trembling voice.
"I know, me too." Jamil whispered and let the silence sit between them.