Chapter Text
You’ve been gone for too many days to count. Well, more accurately, you’ve given up on counting. You have to keep your mind focused on other, more important things--surviving, finding food, finding...whatever it is that you’re supposed to be looking for. Randy and Raz’ul aren’t as used to long treks like this as you are, and it’s wearing on all of you. You’ve just gotten over a long stretch of time (too many sunrises and sunsets between to know just how long) where the three of you didn’t speak at all to each other. It was the worst kind of torture you’ve ever known.
You have trouble sleeping. Though you’re fairly certain you haven’t been followed, you’re still too paranoid to rest peacefully, so you keep watch. You sit outside of your tent, listening to Randy’s soft snores and Raz’ul mumbling in his sleep.
It feels selfish to want to wake one of them up just so you have someone to talk to. The days-long silence between you three has only just recently been broken and everything still feels fragile. Disturbing their rest will probably set you all back, and that’s the last thing you want. So you sit, and listen, and think.
You think about your bandmates. You think about the strength and tenacity they’ve shown thus far, how much you love them and how you’d willingly die to protect them. You think about Splash, back at Strumlotts. You think about the school itself, about your classes and Alola and…
Before you even realize what you’re doing you’re taking your Ira Glass out of your bag, but you don’t even dare to whisper her name. You stare into the glass cylinder, dull in the dark of night. After a pause, to make sure Randy and Raz’ul are still sleeping, you begin to quietly speak; the Ira Glass doesn’t make a sound, but you imagine she’s there, on the other end, listening.
You tell her about your journey so far--the trek through the Discordant Fields, the strange trees, the maps you found and the blueprints that Randy keeps tucked away in his bag. You describe the monsters that found you near the edge of the field, their terrible teeth and the way their claws dragged across your chest. You gently touch your shirt, feeling the way your skin is slightly raised from the scars.
You tell her how close you were to dying. Everything felt so far away. The only thing you were aware of was the pain, but even that faded after a few moments. And as you drifted, the only thoughts in your mind were of those you loved the most--your parents, Randy, Raz’ul, and her.
Tears well up in your eyes. You drag a hand across your face and put the Ira Glass away, and settle back against your tent with a sigh. You’re more aware than ever of the miles that stretch between the two of you.
---
It is just a few sunrises later and Chaos Sauce isn’t speaking to each other again. The three of you had stumbled upon a river filled with fish of all different shapes and sizes and had gorged yourselves before you skinned and dried a few to take with you on the rest of your journey. With your bellies full and your clothes and hair clean from the fresh water, you were all in great spirits, laughing and joking like you were back at school, splashing each other and seeing who could hold their breath the longest. Eventually, you had to move on, but with backpacks and waterskins full, you felt prepared to deal with anything.
You manage to sleep that night for a few hours, but you are woken up by a strange sound just outside of your tent. Immediately, you are up and alert, with one of your hammer mallets in your hand. You shift into a crouch. Your muscles are tense but your breathing is steady and even, and you have a laser focus on the sounds outside and the shadow you can now see through the fabric of your tent.
With a roar, you leap out, mallet raised and ready to strike, but you stop when you see that the shadow is just Randy. He’s curled around a bag--your bag, you realize with a start--and in his hand is a bunch of the dried fish rations. Raz’ul stumbles out of his tent blearily, woken up by your warrior yell. It takes him a moment to focus on the scene before him, but when he does, he’s wide awake and angry. Randy ate not only the rest of his own rations, but most of yours and he had even managed to steal some of Raz’ul’s. The three of you spend the rest of the night arguing. By the time the sun rises, a sullen and tense silence has fallen over the three of you.
You continue your trek.
Once again, you find it difficult to sleep, and it’s even more difficult to convince Randy it’s not because of him. The silence between you two stretches on a little longer.
You make yourself as comfortable as you can on a mossy stump, twirling a mallet between your fingers and casting Prestidigitation to make sparks fly around it. This doesn’t keep you entertained for nearly as long as you hoped it would. Eventually your focus drifts up, and up, past the trees and to the constellations above you.
You’re tracing the patterns with your finger, mumbling their names to yourself, when you realize that your other hand has gotten a hold of your Ira Glass again, and it’s sitting in your palm. Its silence feels like a mockery, a reminder that your two closest friends refuse to speak to you and you can’t bring yourself to really speak to her.
Like the other night, you don’t say her name, but talk to her regardless. You tell her about the fish. You tell her how happy you were that your band was working together again. You tell her the only thing that could have made that moment better was if she was there with you. You tell her you miss her, you tell her you love her, you tell her you need to see her soon or--
You muffle a sob and don’t finish that last thought. Your Ira Glass gets put back into your bag, and you settle down on the stump once more.
The stars go ignored for the rest of the night.
---
When you return to school, you discover that you have been gone for two months and twenty-nine days. You are exhausted, and dirty, and your chest hurts, and despite returning with your prize, you are disappointed. Before your trip, you were convinced that Chaos Sauce was capable of anything and everything. All it took was one extended road trip to almost break you apart.
On your way back to your dorm, you turn a corner and almost run into her. You’re even more aware of how terrible you smell and how matted your hair is. She looks as perfect as ever, and when she realizes it’s really you standing in front of her, she grins. Her eyes sparkle like the stars with tears of joy. She flings her arms around you. You barely manage to squeeze her back.
She asks you how you feel. She asks how your trip was. She asks if you’ve seen a cleric yet for those cuts on your arms and face. Her brow furrows. She asks if you’re okay, and you realize you haven’t answered any of her questions out loud; you’ve just been staring at her, taking in her huge sweater and her wide eyes and that one curly strand of hair that she tugs on when she’s anxious. It’s twisted around her finger now as she stares at you, waiting for an answer.
You think of all the conversations you had with your dark Ira Glass, pretending she was listening. She’s listening now. All you have to do is open your mouth and let the truth free.
Instead, you smile softly and nod. You’re fine, you say, just tired. And then you gently pat her shoulder, tell her you’ll see her later, and continue walking toward your dorm.
Your chest aches more with every step. You think it’s your scars, but as you get farther and farther away from her, you realize it’s your heart. You reach your bedroom just as the tears begin to fall and collapse on your bed, content to stay there for the rest of your life if it will make the pain go away.