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The alley behind the dojo was silent, except for the faint hum of the streetlights overhead. Robby leaned against the brick wall, his arms crossed, his head tilted back as he stared at the sliver of moonlight cutting through the dark.
Tory stood a few feet away, her combat boots scuffing against the cracked pavement. She wasn’t looking at him, not really. Her gaze was fixed on the shadows pooling at their feet, the way they twisted and merged into one.
“What are we even doing?” she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper.
Robby didn’t answer right away. He let the question hang in the air, let it settle into the cracks of the night.
“I don’t know,” he admitted finally. His voice was quiet, but there was a weight to it, like he was carrying more than he could say.
Tory huffed, kicking at a loose piece of gravel. “Great. Glad we’re on the same page.”
There was a bitterness in her tone, but it wasn’t sharp, it was tired, worn down by too many battles fought on too many fronts.
“You ever think maybe we’re just... too broken for this?” she asked, gesturing vaguely between them.
Robby turned to look at her then, really look at her. He saw the way her shoulders sagged, the way her hands fidgeted with the frayed hem of her jacket. She was always so sharp, so fierce, but here, in the quiet, she looked almost fragile.
“Maybe,” he said softly. “But maybe that’s why we fit.”
She scoffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “Two voids don’t make a light, Robby. We’re not fixing anything. We’re just... filling the emptiness with more emptiness.”
Robby pushed off the wall, stepping closer to her. “Maybe. But what’s the alternative? Being alone?”
She didn’t answer, her silence more telling than anything she could have said.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not saying we’re perfect. Hell, we’re probably a disaster waiting to happen. But when I’m with you...” He paused, searching for the right words. “It doesn’t feel so heavy. The emptiness, I mean. It’s still there, but it’s... quieter.”
Tory finally looked up at him, her eyes sharp but searching. “And what happens when it’s not enough? When we just drag each other down further?”
Robby held her gaze, unflinching. “Then we keep going. Together.”
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she thought about walking away. It would be easier, safer, to let him go before things got messy. But the way he looked at her, with that quiet determination, like he saw all her cracks and didn’t care, made her hesitate.
“Fine,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “But don’t think this makes us some kind of fairytale.”
Robby smiled, a faint, almost bittersweet curve of his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The silence between them wasn’t empty anymore. It was heavy, but not unbearable. It was the weight of two people holding onto each other, not to fix the broken pieces, but to carry them together.
Two voids don’t make a light.
But in the darkness, they found something else.