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Lizzie stood motionless outside the front door of the house she shared with her spouses, her hand hovering inches away from the doorknob. Each creak of the wood seemed to echo her apprehension, amplifying the weight of the reality waiting on the other side. She hesitated, unwilling to face the unknown that awaited her within.
Her body felt as if it were being drained of energy, each movement weighed down by the heavy burden of all that had happened. It made sense, she supposed, considering the two who held her heart were infected.
Tears threatened to blur her vision once more, but she refused to succumb to it again. Lizzie had shed too many tears already; she couldn't bear the thought of breaking down again. With a weary resolve, she shielded herself against the overwhelming emotions, knowing that if she were to crumble, it would be best to happen within the familiarity of their home.
Their home.
The tips of Lizzie’s fingers were tingly as she reached forward and turned the doorknob. She ignored the numbness as she pushed the door open to the two-story house, revealing the foyer.
The foyer hadn’t changed since she and Joel left for work, but the sight of it seemed to mock her. It gave a false sense of normal despite the grief she faced.
“Honeybees, I’m home,” Lizzie croaked their usual arriving home ritual, forcing her limbs to enter through the doorway.
She didn’t receive a response, but that was to be expected. Why would she? Joel and Etho were victims of The Boogey now; she was home alone.
Lizzie closed the door behind her and locked it before rubbing at her sunken eyes. She had to pull herself together; she’d already cried so many tears. Did she even have any more left in her? Surely not. Besides, they wouldn’t want her to cry so much.
What was she even supposed to do with herself now? Was she supposed to just go about her life as if her spouses weren’t out there, suffering? That idea felt all sorts of wrong.
If they were here, what would they do? What would they say?
Joel would probably joke with her and try to make her smile. For all his cockiness and self-centered claims, he was rather aware of her needs. He somehow knew exactly what to do to pull her out of her spiraling and distract her from everything that weighed on her very soul.
Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t there. Lizzie hadn’t seen him since they left to go work their jobs as heroes of Traffic City, but she knew exactly what happened to him.
Joel had been on a mission, insisting that he goes alone and she stays on the headset. He ended up finding Etho’s torn mask, getting drugged through the intoxicating spit that was left on the fabric, and he still (somehow) managed to find Etho themself.
That would have been a good thing if they hadn’t lost Etho to the infection already.
The sound of Etho’s last words to her bounced off the walls of Lizzie’s mind. They had been on a mission together when too many infected surrounded them. There was no way they could fight them all off or escape… not without a distraction. Not without a sacrifice .
Etho sacrificed themself so that Lizzie could get away. She didn’t want to leave them, but they insisted that it was the only way. Lizzie used her ability to hide in the shadows so she had been there to watch it happen. She had witnessed Etho succumb to… it. To the purple slime that consumed their body…
A strained sob built in Lizzie’s throat, but she didn’t allow it to go any further. She’s already cried enough. She’s already cried enough. She didn’t have enough energy to spend on it any longer.
If Etho were here, they would insist that Lizzie engage in self-care. Many of the typical things on the self-care checklist were instantly rejected, deemed as too much effort.
Lizzie decided that she would eat and drink something if only to appease the little Etho that lived in her brain. If she acknowledged the way her stomach growled and how dry her mouth felt, she would recognize how desperately she needed to get something into her system. Getting something in her system would be like killing two birds with one stone, in a way.
Cooking a meal was out of the question, so Lizzie pulled a chilled protein shake from the fridge. She barely bothered to close the refrigerator door before unscrewing the cap and chugging down the liquid.
The protein shake wasn’t enough to appease her stomach, but it wet her mouth while also getting her protein. It did its job. Even still, she snagged a chocolate chip granola bar to munch on as she thought about what to do next.
Lizzie’s pink and silver fairy wings drooped behind her as her shoulders hunched forward. Standing was becoming too much for her, but she knew once she sat down that she wasn’t going to get up for a while. Everything hurt too much.
She managed to get the empty protein shake bottle and the granola bar’s wrapper in the trash can built into the cabinetry. Lizzie considered letting herself rot away on the couch before physically shaking her head at the idea. She would rather rot away in the comfort of a bed, preferably Joel’s or Etho’s.
Lizzie staggered to the stairs, every passing second somehow worse than the last as the reality of the situation continued to haunt her. Her head pounded as the pain in her chest started to dull.
That dull feeling shouldn’t be confused with it going away, because it certainly wasn’t. The dull feeling was void-like and aching, making her feel sick in a way. It hurt, but what could she do about it? She probably deserved it. She must deserve it if this was her fate.
If she could redo it all, she would give her own life to bring them back.
Perhaps that was a selfish thought. If she were infected instead of them, she wouldn’t have to think anymore and they would be the ones grieving her… she didn’t want them to feel the suffering she was experiencing. If she had her way, they wouldn’t be suffering at all! Lizzie loved them too much to wish something so dreadful upon them. They deserved better than that.
The upstairs of their house had three bedrooms, one for each of the spouses. The bedrooms served as office spaces and places for them to go if they needed alone time. They often spent the night in each other’s beds, as she and Joel did the night before.
Would that be the last night she ever did so?
Lizzie shook the thought from her mind, unable to bear thinking like that any longer. She would see them uninfected again, she had to! Lizzie would find a way, even if it meant spending every spare second she could at the Traffic City Hero Agency.
That was a mission for tomorrow, however. First, she needed to wallow and rest her barely functioning limbs.
Lizzie willed herself toward Etho’s bedroom, wanting to retrieve something of theirs to change into. She stripped herself of her top, abandoning the article of clothing on the floor as she went to their closet.
She stared at the various shirts, decision paralysis staring at her right back. Lizzie averted her eyes, glancing around the room instead. That seemed to be the right move because she spotted a cream-colored hoodie hanging off the back of Etho’s desk chair.
The hoodie was Joel’s, but he must have given it to them to wear at some point, or perhaps Etho had stolen it from Joel’s room. It didn’t matter either way, but Lizzie picked up the familiar hoodie and slipped it on. Lizzie was the only winged one in the household so the hoodie didn’t have slits built in for her.
Luckily, her wings were stronger than they looked and weren’t harmed too easily. Lizzie simply curled her wings toward her back, concealing them underneath the hoodie. It was big on her, giving her wings plenty of room to exist.
On the top of Etho’s dirty laundry hamper sat a comfortable-looking pair of dark green sweatpants. Lizzie considered them for a moment before going to pick them up. She held them up to her nose and almost started crying again.
She didn’t need Joel’s increased sense of smell to recognize that the sweatpants still smelled like them .
She made her decision as she kicked off her pants and pulled on the sweatpants. They were also too big on her, but they had drawstrings. She tightened the waistband, tying it into a bow to prevent the sweatpants from constantly slipping down her legs.
Now sporting a lounging outfit composed of her spouses’ clothes, she exited Etho’s room. Since she and Joel slept in Joel’s bedroom last night, his bed would smell the most like him.
Lizzie bee-lined to Joel’s bed, not even bothering to turn on the light and take a look around. She had already done too much moving and she was ready to let herself collapse into nothing.
Lizzie fell face-first onto the bed, practically suffocating herself with the blankets. It didn’t matter though because it smelled like him . Her hunch was right, bringing tears she didn’t really have to spare to her eyes. Pathetic.
After staying like that for several movements, she gathered enough energy to move herself under the covers. Lizzie curled up on Joel’s side of the bed, pulling the blanket up all the way to her neck. She held it there tightly as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Objectively, Joel’s bed was warm and comfortable. Being a bug hybrid, he did much better in the heat so she and Etho had made sure his room reflected that. Despite that carefully crafted warmth, she felt cold. There wasn’t the sleeping body of one of her spouses besides her despite how desperately she wanted them both to be there.
Lizzie’s knees curled to her chest as anguished screams and sputtering sobs built up in her throat. It was becoming too much to contain so she didn’t bother. What was the point?
Surrounded by her spouses’ things, she was still alone… not even her headache-inducing sobs could fill the missing pieces in her heart.