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The day Hyuna died, Isaac and Dewey didn't stop, didn't think, didn't cry, just kept moving.
Mizi’s stunt had severely injured many of the rebels present on the stage, and even more, hidden amongst the aliens.
Dewey ran into the burning stage, carried the rebels, then went back in for more, in out in out in out, endlessly.
Isaac scorched his throat inhaling the acrid air to shout orders to all the rebels, his vision blurred by the pain shooting up his leg with every step he took.
When they made it back to the base, they still didn't stop.
Even though his own skin was blistering and painfully red, Dewey went about from one rebel to another, tending to them after the medics had seen to the worst of it. Bandaging stitches, cleaning up dried blood, wiping down still bleeding wounds, disinfecting burns, every rebel in the ward was riddled with a myriad of injuries, and Dewey tended to them all.
Isaac didn't stop barking orders, even though his throat was so raw that it hurt to breathe, and as every step sent shooting pain up his leg, he didn't stop moving. He limped from one unit to another, assigning duties, fighting down vomit induced by the smell of burnt blood in the stale underground air.
Neither of them stopped.
The week after Hyuna died, Isaac and Dewey still hadn't slept.
Isaac didn't sleep, and Dewey couldn't sleep.
Dewey’s body was covered in burns and peeling skin, bandages were changed daily, yet the pain remained, a stinging reminder of the past week. Even the slightest touch made Dewey flinch. Try as he might, he couldn't lie on a bed.
Isaac stayed up all night in his room, planning, replanning, searching for loopholes and trying to get in contact with the other rebel units for supplies. Every night, he’d inject drugs directly into his system, forcing his body to stay awake. In the daytime, he’d drag his body around the base, ensuring everything was in order.
Isaac never went outside their shared dorm, and Dewey never went inside. Yet, from the overhead window, Dewey often saw Isaac's slouched figure, scribbling slowly, as if the pen weighed several cores. Dewey saw, but never said anything. Even though they crossed paths daily, not a single word was exchanged between them.
The month after Hyuna died, Isaac and Dewey fought each other in their dorm.
Dewey had never been inside the room without Isaac already being there. Not feeling ready to talk, Dewey had avoided looking at Isaac's side of the room altogether. So when Isaac had gone to another base to manage things there, Dewey walked into the empty dorm, feeling uncomfortable as if he was intruding on Isaac's privacy.
For the first time in a month, Dewey clearly looked at Isaac's side of the room, feeling as if a hazy curtain had been lifted from his brain.
The bin...was overflowing with needles... and right beside the bin, a poorly made vase. The sudden realisation of everything that had happened in the past month hit Dewey in waves, everything that he had been desperately running from for so long and everything he had chosen not see. He stumbled, his back hitting the door as it opened.
He turned to look and was met with Isaac, face surprised and… his eyes… completely red-rimmed and pupils blown wide.
Isaac opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, there was a sickening crunch as Dewey's fist connected with Isaac's nose.
Isaac stumbled back, sputtering as blood flowed freely from his nose. He turned to look at Dewey and, without warning, lunged at him, delivering a sharp jab to his kidney.
Dewey felt nauseous as the radiating pain reminded him of how Jacob had taught him to fight and how he had punched this exact spot but with lesser damage. Loosing his balance, Dewey swung wildly trying to hit any part of Isaac he could, and Isaac, on high alert from all the drugs in his system, moved in jerky motions. A particularly well-placed punch hit his face, but Isaac didn't stop to recover. He didn't feel any pain to recover from in the first place. Instantly, he returned the punch straight to Dewey’s gut. All the air was knocked out of him as he stumbled back. With horror, Dewey realised he would fall onto the vase if he didn't dodge. In a desperate attempt, he twisted his body, his foot slipped, and he fell straight into the pile of needles, searing pain shooting up his torso as countless needles pierced him.
Finally shaken out of his rage, Isaac looked in horror as Dewey tried to stand back up and embedded in him were several needles throughout his arm and back. Rushing over, Isaac quickly picked up Dewey and dragged him to the nurse. Dewey didn't protest, letting himself get dragged.
As soon as they reached the nurse, another rebel burst in, panting.
They needed Isaac to go to another base; their attempt at securing supplies had gone wrong, and now they were at risk of being found.
Isaac's eyes darted wildly between Dewey and the young rebel, unable to separate himself from Dewey but unable to ignore his position either.
A hard shove broke him out of his stupor as Dewey pushed him towards the rebel.
Giving a tired smirk, Dewey waved Isaac off.
Quietly sitting on the bed, Dewey watched Isaac's figure disappear as he went with the rebel.
The exhaustion took over his body, yet he sat, unable to fall asleep, the sharp pain of several needles embedded at odd angles doing a good job of keeping him awake.
A month and a half after Hyuna died, Isaac and Dewey finally talked.
The operation ran longer than expected, and Isaac was gone for a fortnight. All the responsibilities of maintaining the base had fallen on Dewey.
The night Isaac returned was quiet, no celebrations like they used to have. Just Isaac and his team returning in the dead of the night, exhausted from the tiring mission.
Quietly, he opened the door, padding into their room, expecting…hoping to see Dewey sleeping; instead, he was met with his back, looking out to the sky through the dirty window.
Isaac felt a pang of something in his chest, radiating out to his stomach, coiling and settling there uncomfortably. The feeling only grew heavier as Dewey didn't turn back even after the door shut with a quiet click. Slowly, Isaac padded to Dewey and stopped, unable to break the stillness. Frustrated, he turned and sat on his bed, looking around, surprised to see the empty bin and the vase sitting on his table.
He picked up the vase, tenderly, as if it could break any moment. Slowly, he turned the vase in his hand, feeling every imperfection and every fingerprint left behind… Hyuna's fingerprints.
This was the first time he had thought…well and truly thought about Hyuna after that day.
Finally, Dewey turned around, looked at Isaac and quietly sat down on the bed beside him. Without saying a single word, he cupped his hands over Isaac's hand, holding the vase along with him. He guided Isaac’s finger over the fingerprints, letting him feel every curve and crevice of Hyuna's fingers.
Isaac didn't interrupt Dewey, letting him guide his hands however he pleased. Eventually, Dewey stopped.
“You’re still injecting yourself, aren’t you?”
The first thing Dewey had said to Isaac in months, and it was a damn confrontation.
Unable to meet his gaze, Isaac turned away and subtly nodded.
Dewey took the vase from his hands and set it back on the desk, then he shifted closer to Isaac.
“Hyuna made that for you after Jacob died, to give you a place to put flowers for him. She couldn't bear to see you strew those flowers by his picture.”
Isaac flinched at the mention of Jacob's name, shrinking into himself. Dewey didn't stop speaking, “You know where I found that vase? It was rolling around by the bin covered in countless needles and vials”
By now, Isaac was trembling, trying to pull away from Dewey, face still turned away. Dewey continued
“That day, when we fought, if I didn't dodge, I would’ve fallen directly on the vase”
At that, Isaac turned around, eyes wide open, pupils still wider. Dewey lifted his arms, removing his shirt. Isaac flinched at the view of the countless burn scars running across his body. He tried to look away once again, but Dewey held his gaze, begging him to look.
So Isaac waited.
Slowly, Dewey showed Isaac his right arm, riddled with small scars, then he turned to give Isaac a view of his back. Reaching up, Isaac slowly brushed his fingers over the countless similar scars on his back. All of them stood out stark against the bright, burnt-off flesh; all of them were from falling into the pile of needles.
Dewey turned back to face Isaac, his eyes dull, “Every night, it still feels like Hyuna is here, as if she is just sleeping in after a tiring mission. Every day, I catch myself going to find Hyuna to tell her about something amusing. I can't sleep, no matter how much I try, I cannot fall asleep, I spend all night looking out this dirty window.” he abruptly stopped, his voice had gone shaky.
Isaac buried his face in his palms, feeling the warmth of his tears coat them. His body shook violently, and he sobbed into his hands, finally realising she was truly gone. No matter what he did, no matter what he took, she wouldn't be coming back.
“I’m sorry” escaped Isaac's mouth, barely audible. He had decided to run away, not sleep, because he knew, whatever he saw in his sleep, he wouldn't be able to take it. He had used his duties as an excuse to immerse himself in drugs. His breath hitched, and he continued to cry, repeating in his garbled voice, “ I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry over and over again. Dewey didn't say anything, letting Isaac sit in the weight of the realisation, he himself had needed an entire night to compose himself the day Isaac went away.
Eventually, Isaac's breathing slowed down, he looked up, eyes completely red now and saw Dewey looking at him.
He wrapped his arms around Dewey, lowering him into the bed along with himself, settling himself against Dewey's large frame. With one arm around his back, Isaac patted soothing stripes on Dewey’s back.
“ I’m sorry I've been gone for so long, I think I’m ready to return…”
Dewey didn't reply, choosing to wrap his arms around Isaac, caging him in.
The sun outside was just rising, a gentle breeze blew north. The deep, heavy hum of the machinery enveloped them, syncing with their breaths. Maybe all hope wasn't lost, maybe it was, but they didn't know, the only thing they could do, was march forward endlessly and hope to see everything to the end. But, they weren't alone, and never will be.
For the first time in weeks, both of them had an uninterrupted sleep.