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Something had, undoubtedly, changed between them. Like a part of a machinery that had gone wrong somewhere, causing sparks in its wake—barely noticeable now, but would surely erupt into flames if it is ignored. There was a bruised, bleeding wound in each of their hearts, and blood was seeping into their hands. Now when they hold hands, or hold each other for comfort, Joel almost feels those imaginary specks of blood on him.
Were they just hurting each other by staying together? Joel always held pride in both of their resilience, of their declarations to always find each other no matter what, of this horrible fate they’d been put in and still somehow managed to fight. To resist. To hold each other’s hands through it all, like it could protect them from everything that wanted to tear them apart. But…what if intertwining their fingers hurt, too?
It held too many painful memories. Too much anguish. Too much sorrow. Joel could still see those pained eyes shining in the darkness, and a pair of arms reaching out for him. Grian didn’t deserve to suffer this much for him. Grian didn’t deserve to relive his worst memories with the Watchers just to protect him. Grian didn’t…deserve any of this. What if one day the Watchers decide they’re tired of Joel and instead set their eyes on Grian again? To make him relive everything he’d fought to bury? Joel didn’t have Grian’s powers, and his fear of the Watchers was too much a burden to carry. If that happens, would he be able to save Grian like he’d done so many times for Joel?
He doesn’t think he can bear that at all.
He’s still too weak, even after all this. Even after all his declarations of strength and confidence and acting like he’s untouchable, Joel knows, deep down, that those words are just as a matter of consoling himself as the truth. He can put up a fight, can hold back against a barrage of swords and arrows, but he doesn’t know if he can hold a fight against the Watchers and win. He’s a winner, but when it comes to them, that title seems like it’s mocking him. A winner who can’t even help his friend. A winner who’s powerless against an invisible enemy. A winner that will always concede defeat to his own ugly, vile thoughts.
Joel stares at the ceiling quietly, musing. His chest still throbs with a dull ache, and his shoulder still feels sore even after all this time. How many days has it been, anyway? It seems like forever, but Joel still feels empty. Weak. Helpless. Like he’s still there, still trapped under their gazes, still lying in a pool of his blood.
Time feels frozen now. Whenever there’s too much silence, Joel finds his thoughts wandering to visions and flashes of violet wings, violet anguished eyes, and falling into the abyss all over again. He remembers his thoughts, hears Grian’s scream throughout the darkness, feels the blood in his clothes and the pain in his heart.
Distantly, he wonders if he will ever be the same ever again. He’d been starting to feel like himself again, been starting to finally feel a little lighter, and now it’s like he’s been plunged right back into icy, black waters. So, so cruel. So, so unfair. It was like they intentionally left them alone so they could get a taste of happiness, of peace, of healing, only to snatch it right back from their hands. What a joy it must be for them. And how utterly devastating it is for Joel and Grian.
Joel lifts up his hand, turns it around slowly to inspect it. Around him he could almost see those imaginary heartstrings connecting the two of them. In his mind’s eye, it feels a little broken down now. A little more worn down. Would it snap and break for good one day?
All of his thoughts come to a standstill. A life without Grian…no, a life with Grian but away from his side—that would be the cruelest thing he could ever think of.
“Don’t break,” he whispers to no one. “You’re…”
He stops himself when he sees Grian enter the room, holding a tray of food and adorning a tired smile.
You’re all I have.
“Eat up,” Grian says. There’s two bowls of soup and a plate of bread on the tray. Joel smiles gratefully, and they eat together in silence amidst the warm afternoon sun.
He wishes things were this simple.
Longing is truly a painful thing. Especially when Joel knows his longing would never come to fruition. It’s like trying to reach for the stars, so beautiful as it glimmers in the sky. But it would never be his to grasp. They weren’t allowed a life like that, only in dreams and, perhaps, in another universe.
But not here. Not here, where they need it most.
There’s an odd look in Grian’s eyes by the time the two of them finish eating. A glint that seemed to reflect against the harsh sunlight from outside. A split second of what seemed to be horror as he glanced at Joel.
Then it was gone, just like that. Grian turned away abruptly, stacking the dirty dishes away on the nearest surface. But Joel was still thinking about it, thoughts buzzing in his tired mind. What was that? Why had Grian looked at him like that?
An uneasy feeling rooted itself in Joel's heart. Subconsciously, his fingers find itself pulling at the sleeves of his sweater—Grian’s sweater, the one he gave to Joel that one winter night—and tugging it over his hands. A nervous habit. Joel felt his bracelet move beneath the fabric, scratching softly against his skin.
Something has changed between them. Joel doesn’t want to acknowledge it.
Joel feels it like it was something tangible in the air. A sense of uneasiness. A moment of secret, private feelings that both of them has cradled close to their chests and refused to let the other person know. It shouldn’t be like this. They shouldn’t be acting like this to each other because haven’t they already established that they wouldn’t do this anymore? That there would be no more secrets?
It felt like they’d walked straight back to the beginning.
And it was odd. Unfamiliar. Because the two of them have always been together, have always stuck to each other’s sides even when they were battered and broken and crying. Joel knew that, because just a few days ago, just before he woke up, he knew Grian had been by his side on the bed, keeping watch with vigilant, concerned eyes. With a warm embrace—which, to Joel, is the safest place in the world.
Maybe that was why Joel wore Grian’s sweater now. Maybe that was why Joel hugged himself while running his hands through his arms and shoulders. To remind himself of Grian. To remember the feeling of Grian’s tight hug, shieling him from harm. To replay those memories over and over again—the good, warm, and bright memories of Grian hugging him—so it could keep the bad ones at bay, both the ones that were too fresh, and the ones that have been buried but have been dug up again.
To convince himself that Grian isn’t avoiding him.
But maybe he was doing something wrong. No, Joel knew Grian truly cared about him. That was why he jumped into a literal abyss and took his hand throughout it all. That was why he’d always made sure Joel slept. That was why he’d always cook for Joel and care for him when Joel felt stuck in place. Their friendship—this bond that spoke volumes of their care to one another couldn’t be severed so easily. Joel knew that. Grian knew that. And yet…
Why does it seem like something was wrong?
Had he done something wrong?
I’m sorry—Joel thinks, pulling the sweater closer. If he thinks about it, he can imagine it’s Grian who’s hugging him, instead of the cold silence that hangs heavily in the air. He doesn’t know what he’s sorry for. For dragging Grian into all of his problems? For him always having to save Joel? For being too scared of the Watchers?
It didn’t make sense. Grian has a history with the Watchers too, once upon a time. And Joel knows Grian is still scared—who wouldn’t be, really—but how come he was able to transform that fear into anger, anger that would then be able to actually fight against them? Joel is too weak to do something like that. Coward. Coward. Coward.
Grian burns like the sun. Even the Watchers could be blinded by such strength, such resilience.
Joel is just a black hole who’s destroying itself. Too consumed by fear. Too self-destructing. Too chaotic that it ends up leaving wounds on himself as well.
Coward.
Joel hugs himself tighter and craves for comfort, all the same.
Grian does still stay at Joel’s base. Takes care of him. Cooks him food. Changes his bandages and cleans his wounds. Helps him sit up. Helps him lie down. His hands are as gentle as ever, even when Joel sees him avoid his gaze.
Things are the same, but also not.
And every time Grian tears his gaze away, it feels like something is tearing at Joel’s heart.
“What’s wrong?”
It’s a question that Joel asks one night as Grian was about to return to his base to grab some things, one foot already out the doorway. Joel has grabbed Grian’s hand, stopping him.
It’s the first real thing that Joel has said in the past week of his recovery. The first real thing he’s said apart from “thank you” whenever Grian does something for him. Technically, this is also the first real conversation they’ve had since a whole week. It’s almost staggering how quickly things went south. Weren’t they just comforting each other in each other’s arms by this same doorway just before?
Now, here they were: Joel, stopping Grian, desperate for answers, and Grian, standing frozen and not turning around to even face him.
Joel wanted to say why? but that…was too vulnerable. Joel fears that if he says that, he’d start breaking down, reduced to silent tears. Almost as if in desperation. Like he’s begging Grian to please, don’t leave me, don’t go, don’t stop being my friend, I can’t bear it—
So he says: “Is something wrong…?”
Grian turns around. Joel watches his gaze go from where Joel is holding onto his arm, and it’s almost a funny sight if things were different. They were wearing the exact same sweater right now, and Joel watches as Grian’s gaze goes from Joel’s hand, covered red with that sweater, to the space above Joel’s eyes, to Joel’s sleeves, and finally, to the overall expanse of the identical sweater—dark red, stripes, fluffy material.
For a moment Joel holds his breath. Thinks, oh, he’d just been overthinking. Grian isn’t mad at him, and isn't avoiding him. Grian still cares, Joel has just misinterpreted it. For a moment Joel lets himself hope. That this would be just another hurdle between them, one that would end with comforting hugs and reassuring words.
And then a flash of horror fills Grian’s eyes, and he pulls his hand away from Joel’s grip like he’s been burned.
Joel’s heart sinks. Falls, falls, falls down, endlessly down into the core of the Earth.
“Grian,” Joel still tries, anyway, but his voice is shaking. His hope shatters like glass. His heart breaks like ceramic. Was this really happening? Was he just going to watch his best friend walk away and probably never return, and he’d be left alone again? His chest hurts, not from the wound, but from the overwhelming sense of ache.
“Please,” Grian starts, a small, broken voice, and Joel’s heart sinks a little further. Please…? ‘Please leave me alone’ is what Joel expects him to say. He prepares himself for it. Like when he’s dying on the arena of the games and he’s waiting for the thunder to strike.
Grian looks away, then looks at Joel again with anguished eyes. “Joel, I’m sorry. But please, don’t wear that sweater anymore. I can’t…I can’t…”
The thunder doesn’t come. His heart doesn’t hit the ground. Joel blinks and tries to think. “What?”
“You…that sweater. I know it’s for you, to keep you warm. But it’s…it’s red! And I keep—I keep seeing you in that moment, covered in blood all over your chest, all over your clothes as you fell through the abyss and I just—” Grian takes a shuddering breath, runs his hand through his hair. “I keep seeing that image of you, dying in front of me.”
Joel stays silent. He watches as Grian tries to calm himself, taking deep breaths and blinking away tears. Grian’s hands are shaking, and it takes a moment for Joel to realize that his own hand is trembling, too. Joel glances at his sweater, at his hands. The air is too heavy with the weight of anguish, of painful memories.
“I…I thought you wanted to leave me. I just…wore it for comfort. Pretend you were hugging me, you know?” Joel whispers. The two of them look at each other with teary eyes. “I’m sorry, I…I didn’t realize you were hurting, too.”
Grian’s eyes soften at Joel’s words. “I’m sorry, too, for not saying sooner. That I made you feel like I wanted to leave. But I won’t, I swear I won’t. I never want to leave, Joel. I never want to just…forget about you.”
It’s like telepathic communication. They both step forward to hug each other, and suddenly everything feels fine. It’s an embrace, a shield, an apology, a promise of I won’t leave.
And Joel sees those imaginary heartstrings again, completely intact, strengthening further. No, it won’t break. It might falter, but it won’t tear. They won’t let it tear.
When they pull away from each other, it’s like the imaginary wall that has been growing between them just shatters, dropping to the floor into tiny shards. It’s like the machinery that was going haywire has finally been repaired. It’s like their hearts had gotten much closer now that they were holding each other.
“I have an idea.” Joel says, feeling lighter. Hope brims within him, a promise of happiness and safety already on its way to them.
“Hm?”
“You can knit me a sweater with a different color.”
Grian laughs softly, and the air in the room feels fresher. It smells like grass after rain. It feels like the sun hitting Joel’s face. Grian’s eyes light up at the suggestion. “Let me guess, green?”
Joel breaks out in a grin. A little shaky, a bit wobbly—but there, nonetheless. “You do know me so well.”
Grian laughs again. The two of them has a long way to go, a winding road to find their footing again, and this time will surely be harder, but perhaps this is the start of it. A shared moment of laughter after a week of silence—and a green, matching sweater.
“I’ll get started right now,” he said. “Let me just go get my things—”
“Now?! It’s almost night!”
Grian shrugs. Then he grins, hair whipping wildly against a gust of wind. “We’ll just have a sleepover then. Just a bit earlier in the night.”
He turns and leaves. Joel knows he’ll be back in less than a minute.