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Something’s wrong.
It’s silly to think that, Sara thinks, because everything is wrong. Everything’s been wrong since she was brought here, since before that, really, and considering the scraps of information she’s been dropped over the past few days, maybe her whole life. With everything coming out, every new lie revealed, everyone speaking in code, she’s beginning to feel like she can’t trust anything — but still she has to, has to choose to be strong and put her trust in her allies even when nothing is right because it’s what’s kept her alive so far.
She should be asleep right now, or at least trying; the beds aren’t particularly uncomfortable — they’re somewhat nice, actually, the mattresses a good firmness — but with the weight of everything she’d be surprised if anyone wasn’t having trouble sleeping. And maybe it’s just paranoia, anxiety from everything that’s happened, but there’s this sinking feeling in her gut — go check on Keiji.
Her feet move before she has the chance to think about it, footsteps soft in hopes of not alarming anyone, and she lingers outside Keiji’s door for a few moments in quiet apprehension; maybe she should leave him alone. His eyebags have only darkened since they’ve met, and his demeanor along with them. He needs the rest.
She shifts her weight from one foot to another, then knocks.
Nothing. It’s so silent she swears she can hear the knocks echo, and she’s about to turn back around when she’s finally hit with a quiet, “It’s unlocked.”
When she twists the knob and steps in, gently shutting the door behind her, Keiji’s sitting up in bed with his knees pulled to his chest like a child, a blank expression on his face. She takes a seat at the edge of the bed, unsure what to say to him. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” Keiji laughs a little, that stupid fake laugh she hates. “You’re the one who knocked on my door. I should be asking you that.”
“Well, I guess none of us are really okay…” Sara frowns, almost wishing she had turned around. “But I had a feeling something was up.”
Keiji smiles, and she can’t tell whether it’s real or not. “What would we do without you, Sara?”
“Right.” Sara shifts, bringing her legs up onto the bed, and she just looks at him. She’s never met a man so… desolate. Not like Keiji. She’s never met anyone like Keiji, except maybe herself.
As if he realizes she doesn’t know what else to say, Keiji says, “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“None of us do.”
“Yeah, obviously, but,” he blinks and looks away, and Sara has to stare at him for a few moments before realizing there are tears in his eyes. “I don’t know. I’m such a fuck-up.”
Sara, she’s — she’s not good at emotions, especially other people’s. They make this uncomfortable feeling twist in her chest and her mind fog up and her hands sweat, but she’s practiced, and she’s learned how to handle them despite the feeling. “You’re not,” she says, reaching her hand forward to take one of Keiji’s, rough and warm. She looks at his eyes even though he’s looking away. “There’s no right choice to make here. Everything we do hurts someone. You just have to do what feels right.”
Keiji spits out a bitter laugh and squeezes her hand a bit tighter than comfortable. “I’m not a good person, Sara.”
She does not argue.
What she does do is shift her position on the bed so she’s halfway beside him and wrap her arms around his sides, her forehead bumping his neck. He freezes, then hugs back twice as tight; briefly she wonders how long it’s been since someone’s comforted him, then decides on a long time, considering the choked-out sob that follows the thought. “God, what am I doing? You’re fuckin’ sixteen and leading all of us. Sixteen and more mature than I am. Fuck.”
Sara — who is seventeen, very very tired, and holding a grown man she’s known for less than a week but somehow feels closer to than she ever has her parents — rubs Keiji’s back slowly and mumbles out, “It’s alright. It’s… we’re all just trying our best.”
“I’m in everyone’s way. Hell, you should be asleep and instead you’re here talking to me,” Keiji says, voice still shaky with tears. He lets go, and she takes it as a sign to pull back.
“You should be asleep too.”
“Yeah, it’s not happening.”
And at that, she’s at a loss for words again. She cares about Keiji, probably more than she should, but she’s not prepared to handle his cynicism, not on top of handling the problems of everyone else here, not on top of losing her best friend.
She takes a breath and tries not to think about that. About being Keiji’s age — if she ever gets out of here — and still seeing things, still hurting like this, or hurting worse, somehow. About leaning on someone a decade younger than herself for support. She knows what it’s like, she argues to herself, so she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
She tries to imagine Keiji as a teenager, as anything but how he is now, but can’t.
“Sara,” Keiji says, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looks up at him. He looks so miserable, even with that smile he puts on. Unconsciously, she reaches her hand up to wipe his face, like making the tears go away is going to do anything. “You should go to bed.”
“You’re going to be okay.”
He blinks at her. “Huh?”
“You’re going to be okay,” Sara repeats, hearing the shake in her voice. Keiji as her age. Herself as Keiji’s age. Her head hurts — she thinks it’s been hurting for a while now — and none of it makes any sense. “Keiji, you’re going to be okay because you have to be. Are you listening?”
Keiji chuckles a little, maybe real, and nods his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Sara knows there’s no way she’s making any sense. This doesn’t stop her from talking. “Say it.”
Keiji tilts his head towards her a little bit, looking into her eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”