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He sits at the furthest edge of the very last step of the cabin. The moon is just barely visible in the night sky, ducking its head over the silhouetted treetops. It would be completely silent and serene if not for the fresh snow crunching beneath his feet. Its pure white veneer illuminates upwards like the moon, a spotlight on himself. It makes him nervous. His legs stick out at awkward angles, and he arches his back, pulling into himself. He tries to stay completely quiet. Like an animal ready to run.
He should have ran a little faster.
He shouldn’t be here.
He wraps himself tighter in the blanket around his shoulders. The same one they brought him back in. He gazes into the woods and feels his heart lighten. He has a safe place there. The tunnel tucked between the trees is small small and lonely, but it’s safe. It’s not safe here. He cranes his head back towards the cabin — almost expecting some sort of three-headed demon to be standing behind him. There isn’t any, of course, apart from those on the other side of the cabin door.
He’s scared to get close to them. Something’s wrong with them, and he can’t even tell what. They ask what happened. Where he’s been. They act like they’re concerned. But can he really bring himself to tell them?
He’s seen them bite and scratch and howl at the moon like wolves. If he tells them, it’ll all be over. No more safe place to run home to.
If he tells them, they may notice he is well-fed. They’ve been rotting away from hunger. They hallucinate and mutter to themselves when they think no one is looking. It brings them to terrible places. To hurt each other. He’s been able to scrounge for food on his own, living off of birds and small rodents. He stole from their own stock in the middle of the night. He doesn’t want to share it with them. If he says one wrong thing, they’ll know. They’ll tear into him.
He steps forward, wooden stairs creaking as he stands. Cringing from the noise that rips through the serene night air. He takes another hesitant step. And another. And another. The fresh snow crunches against his worn Converse. It would take so little for him to just run. Disappear into the night. No matter how brutal it is out there, he is infinitely more scared when he sits in that cabin. It doesn’t help that he misses his friend. What’s stopping him from leaving?
And then the door behind him opens.
His knees give out from under him. Flurries of snow are flung around him as he hits the ground. He inhales — short and unsteady — and then holds his breath. Blanket still clutched tightly between his fingers, he pulls his arms over his head protectively. Like a young child hiding under his bedsheets. Why can’t he run?
He expects a three headed demon. Or a hungry wolf. Or, worst of all, a teenage girl.
There’s a gentle creaking of footsteps on the porch.
“Javi! What are you doing out here?”
That’s why. That’s why he can’t run. That’s why he can’t leave.
He lets out a sigh of — albeit embarrassed — relief. The footsteps get closer, rushing through the snow. The blanket is pulled away, uncovering his face.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Travis says, falling to his knees beside him. “What are you doing out here?” He repeats.
He can’t leave. Travis needs him.
He doesn’t know exactly what happened to his brother that night, but he knows that the girls hurt him. They changed him. When Javi came back, Travis was a completely different person. He was much quieter, less rebellious (as Dad always put it), and was far less mean. Not long ago, Javi would have considered all of that a good thing. But, it’s hard to think that this change came naturally. He shivers at the thought of what his brother has been through in the wilderness. He doesn’t want Travis to get hurt again.
He knew it would be ungrateful of him to leave, too.
According to what he’s overheard, Travis has neglected hunting for the past few months. They’ve been starving and he hasn’t been able to help. Instead, he’s been looking tirelessly for him. From dawn to dusk. Trekking miles through the snow. A deep pit of shame forms in his stomach. Travis is starving because of him. Everyone is.
He knows it’s selfish to keep his cave a secret. Nonetheless, his lips are sealed. The least he could do is not put them all through that again. So, he must stay.
They lean on each other to stand up. Travis brushes snow from the edges of the blanket. He leads him back up the steps to the cabin. Back into the lion's den.
Before they enter, Travis cups his face with his hands. It’s an awkward, uncomfortable motion. Neither of them are used to this amount of vulnerability or affection, but they are alone, and Travis doesn’t have anyone to impress, so he does it anyways.
The way he asks it is stilted, like he’s walking on eggshells. “Please, can you talk to me? What happened? I’m worried about you.”
This is such a different version of his brother. It makes him a little uncomfortable, to be honest. A more honest, kinder, gentler version of him. He wants to turn Travis’ words right back around on him. What did they do to you? Why are you acting like this? But, he restrains himself. The silence protects both of them
Travis sighs, defeated, and moves his hands to Javi’s shoulders. He gives them a soft pat.
“That’s alright. Take as much time as you need.” He says.
Javi reaches for his necklace. It’s a crude, simplistic thing made of a strained white thread. His fingers tighten around the ring strung on it. Dad’s ring. He holds onto it for dear life.
Travis smiles. “We have all the time in the world.”