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Darkness clinged to walls, casting a shadow that filled each corner of his bedroom.
A room that once brought comfort and peace from all-day taking adventures, now barely fullfilled it's purpose. Silence that once was comforting, now piqued his paranoia to point where sometimes Ze couldn't tell if his breathing still belonged to him.
Not even once that overwhelming feeling lead him to nausea so strong, he barely avoided vomiting on corridors of their home.
...
Just like before, he could feel that feeling build up in his stomach, covering his spine and palms with cold sweat. Every single move felt like it only worsten his state, yet he knew that at some point he would have to get up.
Ze tried to slower his breath, stop his heart from pounding to ease that overwhelming feeling, but it didn't helped.
With shaky legs, Ze stood up, grabbing any furniture to hold onto, as if his life depended on it.
The moment he straightened, the nausea struck again, sharp and overwhelming, washing over him so suddenly that the room seemed to tilt. The edges of his vision blurred and twisted, his stomach lurching as if his body was already preparing to betray him, already assuming the worst.
When the dizziness finally passed, Ze took another step. Then another. Each movement only made it worse, his throat tightening as if trying to close itself off, saliva pooling in his mouth, thick and sour, carrying that familiar acidic, metallic taste he knew too well.
"Disgusting." he thought.
Always like this. Always weak. Always ending up bent over a sink or a toilet like some kind of failure. He hated how often it happened, how his body reacted to stress by turning against him, showing it in the most humiliating way possible.
The hallway felt longer than it should have been, narrow and empty. Passing by the others rooms only added to that patheticness, each door became a reminder of the nights someone had woken to the sound of him retching violently in the bathroom, of how he kept his head lowered afterward, pretending not to notice the looks full of pity, forcing himself not to cry as shame burned behind his eyes.
How badly it hurted his pride, being seen in state of being exposed, helpless, disgusting.
The more those memories resurfaced, the worse the nausea became, spiraling tighter and tighter. A closed loop of fear feeding his body, his body feeding the fear.
By the time the bathroom came into view, he was barely walking at all, just forcing himself forward out of pure panic, driven by the desperate need to make the feeling stop before it overwhelmed him completely, before his breathing grew too loud and someone heard.
With shaky legs, Ze stood up, grabbing any furniture to hold onto, as if his life depended on it.
The moment he straightened, the nausea struck again, sharp and overwhelming, washing over him so suddenly that the room seemed to tilt. The edges of his vision blurred and twisted, his stomach lurching as if his body was already preparing to betray him, already assuming the worst.
When the dizziness finally passed, Ze took another step. Then another. Each movement only made it worse, his throat tightening as if trying to close itself off, saliva pooling in his mouth, thick and sour, carrying that familiar acidic, metallic taste he knew too well.
..."I doubt there's anything waiting for
you out there anymore."
Always like this. Always weak. Always ending up bent over a sink or a toilet like some kind of failure. He hated how often it happened, how his body reacted to stress by turning against him, showing it in the most humiliating way possible.
The hallway felt longer than it should have been, narrow and empty. Passing by the others rooms only added to that patheticness, each door became a reminder of the nights someone had woken to the sound of him retching violently in the bathroom, of how he kept his head lowered afterward, pretending not to notice the looks full of pity, forcing himself not to cry as shame burned behind his eyes.
How badly it hurted his pride, being seen in state of being exposed, helpless, disgusting.
The more those memories resurfaced, the worse the nausea became, spiraling tighter and tighter. A closed loop of fear feeding his body, his body feeding the fear.
By the time the bathroom came into view, he was barely walking at all, just forcing himself forward out of pure panic, driven by the desperate need to make the feeling stop before it overwhelmed him completely, before his breathing grew too loud and someone heard.
At the moment he entered the bathroom and flicked the switch, the intense light struck him all at once, blinding him for a few seconds and forcing him to bend over the sink. Ze’s hands tightened around the porcelain, grounding himself enough to pull upright again. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to understand what exactly was standing in front of him.
He leaned closer, searching for something, anything that might help him regain control over his own body, something that could put an end to this pathetic display of weakness. But the mirror gave nothing back.
There was nothing to give. Nothing to regain.
In the Cave, he had crossed the point of no return, the place where everything had officially begun to lose its meaning, twisting itself into a constant, suffocating paranoia. It followed him everywhere now. Watching. Observing. Staying just behind his shoulder, waiting for the exact moment to ruin everything. And Ze could do nothing but anticipate the day that fragile peace would finally collapse, when his fate would no longer be his to decide.
His unfocused eyes dragged across every flaw in the reflection. Every imperfection. Even the smallest ones seemed magnified under the harsh light.
He was supposed to face things like a real man. That’s what he told himself. But it had become nothing more than a wish. Instead, he had become vulnerable. Weak. Disgusting. Trapped in a body and mind that betrayed him at the slightest crack in pressure.
And it called again.
The nausea surged violently, stealing his breath. He gripped the edge of the sink tighter, knowing that no matter how long he stalled, it would happen sooner or later.
He turned away from the mirror, kneeling in front of the toilet. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he tried to brace himself for something he had endured countless nights before, yet it always felt just as awful as the first time.
"You will always look over your
shoulder to see if I am still present."
...
Ze walked downstairs, the steps creaking softly beneath his weight. Each sound felt louder than it should have been, even though neither of them reacted.
Slowly, he made his way toward the living room. Regect and Moe were already on the couch, breakfast balanced on their knees, some random movie playing, probably Regect’s pick. Moe always let him choose, trusting his taste without question.
Ze stopped at a safe distance, stopping near the stairs instead of stepping fully inside. He didn’t say anything. Just watched.
Regect was in the middle of an overly dramatic explanation of whatever was happening on screen, praising the movie like it was a cinematic masterpiece, throwing in unnecessary fun facts and half-made theories. Moe leaned back comfortably beside him, listening with patient amusement, occasionally honking in response or nudging him when he got carried away.
It was ordinary.
And Ze never admitted how much those mornings meant to him, how they were often the only reason he forced himself out of bed after nights like the last one. He would never say it out loud, but these quiet, stupid, peaceful moments were worth enduring everything else.
They deserved to stay untouched by whatever haunted him in that Cave.
“Late for breakfast again,” Regect called out, turning around with a mock-judging look. “Dude, seriously. You’re missing the best part.”
Moe glanced over too, a small, warm smile appearing the moment she noticed him.
Ze hesitated before answer, for a brief moment searching for signs that they heard anything last night, yet there was nothing to proof it. Just morning light spilling through the windows and the movie playing slightly too loud for this hour.
Without waiting for him to respond, Moe honked and gestured toward the kitchen, letting him know she had prepared something for him too.
He made his way there, quickly spotting the plate she’d left out.
Simple toast with egg and bacon on the side, now cold from waiting.
He wasn’t really in the mood to eat, not really in mood to eat, but he refused to make it obvious. He grabbed the plate anyway and walked back to the couch, settling into his usual spot.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Ze asked after a moment, chewing through the now slightly hardened toast.
“Maybe a beach trip? Moe’s been nagging me about it, so why not today?” Regect shrugged while Moe nodded energetically beside him, honking in agreement, clearly thrilled that her idea might finally happen.
“Sure. Sounds good to me,” Ze replied, eyes drifting back to the screen.
A beach trip, then.
...
As the gang finally pulled up to the beach, Ze barely had time to look around for a decent spot before Moe and Regect were already unpacking their bags, stuffed with an unnecessary amount of items, as if they were planning to live there for a week instead of a few hours.
Ze sat a little apart from them on the single towel he’d brought, laying down on it. He tried to make himself comfortable, brushing grains away from the fabric as they stubbornly clung to it anyway.
Meanwhile, Moe hurried toward the edge of the sea, kneeling to refill her favorite water guns with focused determination. Regect, on the other hand, was busy constructing what looked like a full campsite, laying out towels, unfolding a beachbchair, setting up a sunshade, arranging things with unnecessary precision.
Most of it, Ze knew, had probably been ordered from some late-night shopping spiral on AliExpress or Amazon. Regect had a talent for spending hours scrolling through those apps, buying the most useless gadgets known to man, only to complain later about shipping delays or questionable quality.
Ze settled a little apart from them on the single towel he’d brought. He lay back, brushing away stubborn grains of sand that insisted on clinging to the fabric anyway, and folded his arms behind his head.
Moe was the first to break the silence.
Ze barely notice the sudden movement before a splash of cold water hit Regect.
“What the— MOE!” Regect shot upright from his carefully arranged beach setup, staring at Moe, who stood a few steps away gripping her water gun with shameless pride, honking victoriously.
“You did NOT just—” Regect started, already scrambling to grab one of the spare water guns from the bag. “I literally just sat down!”
Moe didn’t stop at one splash.
The second hit him straight in the shoulder.
“Oh, you are so dead!” he announced, offended beyond reason, already aiming his weapon at her while she laughed and darted sideways. Sand kicked up around her ankles as she tried to dodge, honking loudly every time she landed a hit.
Ze watched from a distance, not bothering to intervene. They will get tired in five minutes anyway, so there was no need to ruin their fun.
While they were busy declaring war, he decided to go on a walk.
The shoreline stretched open before him, glowing under the afternoon sun.
He walked slowly, hands in his pockets now, not really focusing on anything besides his footsteps.
The sea moved in steady rhytm, hitting his ankles from time to time with cold water. Far enough from the noise, he could barely hear them anymore, just faint echoes, making the whole walk feel rather peacefull.
The sand was cooler near the water, damp and firm under his steps. A breeze brushed against his face, not strong enough to disturb anything, just enough to remind him he was alive.
He didn’t think about the Cave, the bathroom light or the eyes, just tried to not think at all, and enjoy the moment.
The sun hung lower now, softening from harsh white to something warmer. The sea reflected it in streaks of gold, stretching toward the horizon like a path that led nowhere.
He stood there longer than he meant to, watching the light change in small, almost invisible ways.
Behind him, he could still hear his friends laughing and talking with each other, the sound just added to the atmosphere, making it feel familiar and almost nostalgic in a weird way.
As long as they have each other, everything should be fine, right?
...
“Hey,” Regect called out, not loud this time. Just casual. “You planning on staring at the sunset for the rest of the day or what?”
Moe walked up beside him, brushing her shoulder lightly against his as she passed, nudging him back toward their spot without a word.
Ze didn’t resist.
They returned together and sat down on the same towel, close enough that their arms almost touched. The sun had dipped lower now, painting everything in amber light. The water shimmered softly. The sky shifted slowly into shades of red and purple.
For a while, none of them said anything.
“So… I have to admit,” Regect finally broke the silence, stretching his legs out in front of him, “coming here was actually a good idea.”
Moe nodded enthusiastically, honking in agreement.
“Yeah,” Ze said, glancing at both of them. “It’s pretty sweet. We should do this more often.”
“Yeah, but next time I’m getting a better water gun. And maybe that upgraded—”
“Oh, shut up,” Ze cut him off, punching him lightly in the arm. “Don’t we have enough AliExpress shit at home?”
Regect winced dramatically. “Don’t act like you don’t use my stuff, dude. That shower curtain is tuff as fuck.”
“With the freaking flowers on it?” Ze scoffed. “You call that "tuff"? And besides, do I need to remind you that half the stuff you buy is technically from my money?”
Moe watched the exchange with open amusement, already used to their constant bickering. She honked sharply a few times before Regect could talk back, effectively shutting them both up.
They glanced at each other.
Then at her.
And almost simultaneously, they both fell quiet, before going back to talk about diffriend stuff, sharing ideas what they'll do tommorow, what to cook for dinner or what movie will they watch tonight.
....
"because I will indeed be present."