Work Text:
Xisuma was stuck, glitched in the faded technicolour of S3.
He had been stuck for three years now.
Oh, how quickly he’d grown up.
Keralis, Joe, Tango, all the others who had witnessed that year agreed never to bring it up.
Or, they’d simply forgotten.
Xisuma hoped they’d forgotten.
Yet he hoped maybe one of them would remember.
Just one.
Maybe they’d reassure him that he wasn’t the only one who remembered.
Maybe they’d even apologise.
Sorry wasn’t always enough.
Xisuma sat on the beach he’d built Tower Bay on. He’d begun to spend a lot of midnights there recently, the silver moon overhead, as he stared out across the rolling waves. He could taste the salt and the sea here, feeling the warm sand between his toes and fingers. It didn’t matter if he was building, standing in his work room designing farms, or even getting a rare wink of sleep -- he always found himself wandering to that beach, as his mind fluttered like a lost tumbleweed through the gold mine that was his S3 memories. All the faces, all the voices, all the laughter. As he sat, his skin would crawl until all his hairs stood on end, his right arm would sting and he could feel every cold bead of sweat on his face and the blood rushed through his ears and he’d forget to breathe the salty air encompassing him until he came crashing down to reality with a faint gasp.
Then he’d stand up. And go back to work.
Time was a polarised glass cage and he’d locked himself inside.
Biffa had left over a year ago. It had been all smiles, all handshakes and hugs that had never fit right from the start, whiskey shots all around as everyone wished Biffa the best of journeys ahead. We’ll miss you, but we understand that with time, the heart takes a different turn from those it always followed (oh, good old Joe, always so poetic), good luck, stay safe, we’ll miss you, we love you, come visit, keep in touch, even Doc said a faint I forgive you.
Xisuma thought that he’d be able to say it too.
But when the mic came to X, with all eyes on him, Admin of Hermitia, his breath caught in his throat. All those smirking scoffs, the needling jabs and sharp sarcastic laughs and everything Biffa said and did that Xisuma knew he never truly meant , he tried to push them away. There were better things to remember Biffa for, he scolded himself, as he took a deep breath. Like how Biffa smiled every time he took a sip of tea, he always liked that chorus one from their Ender hometown, Biffa’s eyes lit up like the sun on the sea every time he saw a new knife or piece of machinery, Biffa laughed at everything without explaining why, Biffa had taught him and protected him, he laughed, he sang, he smiled, but it was the same laugh, the same smile that accompanied his S3 remarks, the same face that looked down on Xisuma as he dragged him, right arm, down the aisle-- X shook the memory away. No, no. Change. Sorry. The same smile, the same face, the same voice Xisuma had to endure for years after, all while knowing that Biffa had changed.
Change wasn’t always enough.
He couldn’t remember what he’d said to Biffa that night. Xisuma ran his fingers through the sand again, digging far enough down to find a cold spot where the tide had seeped into. He pressed it like a sore bruise, a fragment of the distant ocean left behind. Time. He wanted to believe he’d at least said that he loved him, that he’d keep in touch.
Three years had passed since what Biffa had done, what Biffa had said. Three years, X had remained his best friend. Every year, he’d watch Biffa change, losing more and more of that smugness, no longer making those needling comments and laughing at his every tear and failure. Every year, Biffa hugged him more, praised him more, defended him more. Every year, Biffa gave him less and less reason to still remain salty, it’s all the time you spend by the ocean, Xisuma. God, he still heard his thoughts in Biffa's voice. He hugged his knees to his aching chest as the tide rose, swelling just far enough to touch his toes.
Time wasn’t always enough.
He’d always refused to cry over Biffa after that year; he’d cried once, maybe twice, mainly because Biffa would laugh if he cried. You have no reason to cry, it’s not going to solve your problems, all your sore spots and sensitivities, can’t make a single joke around you, can I? Same face, same voice, same laugh. On his bad days, he could still feel Biffa’s iron grip on his right arm, hear Biffa’s yelling about his overload of insecurities, your face, your voice, your laugh, your scars… X rolled up his right sleeve, glancing at where Iskall had sliced his arm during the Civil War, which covered the scar Biffa had given him in S3. He thought it would all stop -- all the treading on eggshells not to evoke Biffa possibly yelling again, he’s changed but change isn’t always enough, all the condescending thoughts narrated with Biffa’s voice in his mind -- when Biffa put a physical barrier between them. I’m leaving in November, Xisuma thought the weight would lift off his shoulders the moment he woke up without having to meet Biffa in the admin room.
The air had felt heavier that morning.
Like dense, salty, ocean air.
I should’ve forgiven him.
Sorry isn’t always enough.
Xisuma would be lying if he said Biffa wasn’t still his best friend. The one who had stuck with him since childhood, the one who spoke the same dialect of Galactic with the same accent as X, the one who understood Xisuma’s abilities and limitations and let X lean on him until he learned how to walk himself, the only one Xisuma had trusted to see his tears. He missed Biffa singing off-key to X’s guitar riffs, the TEA, the times they pranked the Hermits while wearing matching suits, all the whiskey jokes and bye-lingual moments in Galactic and sparring in the Nether during Admin Trips, the fact that he actually remembers my favourite food, favourite tea, favourite song, favourite suit . He’d be lying if he said he didn’t love Biffa like a brother.
But he’d also be lying if he said that if Biffa showed up at the beach that night, that he’d be able to forgive him. Xisuma wanted to believe he could, it’s not like him to hold grudges , but how could he, when he had never been able to process emotions and form close friendships ever since? I got you that bee pollen and chorus leaf tea since I passed by that teashop you like, you were such a burden to me, holy shit you’re a genius and this is why I need you around, god you’re depressing to be around, thank you for always being here for me and I promise I’ll do the same, why are you such a clingy fuck?, if he says that stupid shit about you one more time I’m gonna fight him, Guude told me to stay away from you and I’m not telling you why, same voice, same face. Maybe he shouldn’t blame Biffa, maybe this is all me, my sensitivity, my insecurities, but part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to scream, scream about the degrading voices in his head and how his favourite song was now a breakdown song he couldn't bear to listen to because of Biffa’s comments and how he feared the very thought of someone else's touch because of what Biffa did at Genny's funeral and how he feared everyone hated him and feared conflict and feared people -- but that wasn’t all Biffa’s fault, was it now. He wanted it to be Biffa’s fault, feels better to blame someone else than yourself, but maybe this was just… X. Just himself and his stupid sensitivity and his stupid inability to put his emotions behind him for a technical job with everyone's lives on the line and his stupid trauma that kept him up at night and kept him blaming everyone who really had just helped him shut out everything that made him… him. And become who they wanted him to be.
After all, wasn’t that what best friends were for?
Keeping you safe.
Telling you the truth.
Knowing your flaws.
And helping you overcome them.
And Biffa did just that, didn’t he?
Xisuma wouldn’t be who he was today without it all, really.
Do I want to be you anymore?
Sorry.
The cold waves came and swept his tears away, away with the forgiveness on his tongue that would’ve set him free.
Time.
And so he stood up.
And went back to work.