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The thick scent of blood and gunpowder surrounds Sebate in suffocating, snakelike coils. His hands tremble, scrambling for something, anything to anchor himself. The battle passes him by like a scene behind a window, his limbs unable to move. The rattling-crack of gunfire and yelling of commands nearly drowns out the sound of his own pounding heartbeat. Soldiers run and die, and the enemy only encroaches closer. It plays over and over, tormenting him like some sick joke. A blurry voice screams his callsign from the distance, begging for backup. It’s a never-ending mantra cutting through the noise of the battlefield like a hot knife through butter.
Unit Trident. Move forward.
His legs wobble, but he stays firmly planted to the ground. His head swivels around to the voice. It's a face he can't recognize. A piece of Nusian cannon-fodder, as quick to fall as the rest. They jerk around from the impact and collapse to the ground as a bullet strikes them in the neck. Blood illuminated by the harsh sun splatters from the wound and covers the side of their face. A few specks land across Trident's face. They choke on their own blood with a sickening gurgling, weakly calling out to Trident in a fruitless endeavor. The dust settles around them in a grim embrace. A loud, sickening buzz fills his ears, like flies to a corpse.
"No, NO!" Sebate yelps, eyes snapping open. He sits straight up in bed, eyes wide. He glances around the scarcely decorated bedroom. Dark shadows creep over his surroundings; mocking figures threatening to jump out at him. Despite his conscious state in the present now, his mind is still elsewhere. He sits up rigidly. Every new shape, every trick of the eye. It's another monster waiting for him to lower his guard. Karma is coming back to give him his fabled visit, he's convinced. He tries to stagger out of bed but he slips on his own shoes. He falls against the hardwood floor with a grunt. He rubs the side of his head and tries to collect himself.
Crreaaak...
Sebate's stomach lurches. He scrambles to his feet, hands balled into tight fists. His head swivels around to face the door.
"Sebate?" Augute calls, half-leaning into the doorframe. "I, uh, Sorry if I woke you up. I heard something." A dark shadow is cast across Augute's face, with only the familiarity of his voice to guide Sebate in his half-awake state.
"...Achilles?" Sebate mutters breathlessly.
Augute blinks, taken aback.
“What?” he squints. For a moment, something long buried flashes across his mind in a full-body feeling. He shakes his head and tries to forget it. “Wh—what’s gotten into you?”
Sebate blinks as his consciousness returns to him. He looks around, jaw slightly agape. He sighs under his breath and straightens out his ribbed tank top.
“Nothing’s gotten into me.”
He lowers his hands to rest at his sides, fists slowly unfurling. He shuffles his house shoes on and slowly stalks past Augute. Augute furrows his brows together, but does not stop Sebate. He looks down at his feet. For a second, only a second, he almost feels pity. It rakes its way up from the bottom of his chest in a sickening burning sensation. He quickly stuffs it back down before he can convince himself to retreat back into his shell. No… no. He tightens his jaw ever so slightly before turning on his heel to meet Sebate in the kitchen. While Augute was busy hyping himself up, he’s already set an empty cup on the counter. He reaches upward into the alcohol cabinet to pour himself a drink. He takes a seat on the shoddy stool nestled beneath the table.
“Sebate, can we not talk?” Augute calls out, stopping the man right before he pops off the cork of the tall whiskey glass. “You don’t need to be so dismissive.”
Sebate looks downwards. His grip on the bottle tightens. His lip curls backwards into a defensive frown, hiding immense regret just beneath the surface.
“Just give me one second to wake up.”
He fills the plastic cup halfway with the bitter alcohol. He takes a strong swig, barely flinching at the burn on his tongue. He clears his throat loudly. He sighs and leans against the peninsula, letting the familiar feeling of the alcohol settle in his bones. A small fraction of him feels lighter. Augute walks towards the counter and stands on the other side. He watches Sebate with a disconcerted stare.
“Why are you drinking?” he blinks. “It’s—“ he glances to the clock on the wall, “It’s almost one in the morning.
“Why do you care so much? Everyone has their crutch, Augute. Just tell me what you want from me.” Sebate starts defensively, but his voice quickly shrinks. He takes another sip of the alcohol.
Augute frowns and begins to absentmindedly tap his fingers against the counter as he speaks. He tries to keep himself above water now that all of Sebate’s attention is on him. He swallows awkwardly.
“You woke up yelling and then dramatically fell on your side. I… I heard it. It woke me up. I was wondering what happened,” he gestures with his free hand to emphasize the simplicity of his point.
The dream. Sebate’s eyes grow hazy. Every time he blinks the images flash across his mind, now only worsened by Augute’s concern. His nose wrinkles as if the smell of blood still lingers in the air. He tries to swipe through the fog of his mind, but it only grows thicker.
“I don’t…” his words are laced with guilt, “It’s not anything that concerns you.” He takes another sip of whiskey to further calm his nerves. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m only speaking the truth.”
Augute’s eyebrow twitches. He sighs, unsure if he should press further. The silence afterwards grows heavy and palpable the longer it drags on. It only elevates with the clearness of the unspoken words between them, turning unbearable until Augute finally sputters out something, anything, to quell the tension. All he can muster is a simple question to Sebate. A small invitation, sharp as a knife. It cuts right through the man’s facade and his walls come unceremoniously crumbling down.
“Are you okay?”
Sebate tenses.
“What?”
“I just want to know if you’re okay.” It’s a brave gesture from Augute. He speaks with uncharacteristic, yet fragile resolve.
Sebate’s stiffness almost immediately melts. He desperately tries to pull himself back together, but his body betrays him mercilessly. His eyes grow hot and blurry from now unrestricted tears. He scrambles to cover his face, but his sobs slip between his fingers. He presses his face further against his palms to try and will his emotions away. His fingertips shakily dig into his now damp skin. A familiar stinging settles deeply within his chest, throbbing with the weight of Augute’s question. The alcohol only spurs him to act more irrationally and he completely ignores Augute’s panicked concern. He can barely hear him walk around to counter over his own breathing. Nothing else matters more than closing everything down. He tries. He tries so hard, but it simply spills right out. His futile, disgusting body acts against him in a pitiful display.
“Sebate! Wh—“ Augute’s eyes grow as large as saucers. “Sorry, I’m—I’m sorry, god, I-I didnt…” he mumbles, hands hovering just over Sebate, unsure if he should touch him. “I didnt know—! Please tell me what’s wrong,” he stammers.
Sebate’s eyes grow raw as large rivulets soak his face.
“Augute…” he mumbles, hands drawing away from his face. He glances towards Augute with a reddened, wet face. He grabs Augute’s hand which still hovers just above his shoulder. He absentmindedly tugs the taller man towards him. Augute stumbles forwards. He opens his mouth to speak, but his anxiety silences him. “God. I’m ssorry. You’re… you’re a good man. Better than I could ever be. I’m such a fucking mess.”
“Don’t say that,” Augute murmurs, “It’s… we’re working on it, you know?”
Sebate shakes his head.
“Snff—No,” he rasps, “no.”
Augute’s hand has grown clammy from how long Sebate has been holding it. Fortunately, Sebate doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, Augute would be surprised if the man could currently focus on anything at all. If he could try to get him to stay grounded, maybe he could win over his self-loathing for just a moment. He hesitates for a moment, but ultimately chooses to lean closer and place his other hand on Sebate’s shoulder. Sebate shamelessly leans into the touch. Augute flinches at the sudden feeling of Sebate’s warm tears against his torso, but he tries to reciprocate. He awkwardly wraps his arms around Sebate in a half-hug, struggling to bring his hands below the man’s shoulders, considering he’s still sitting down. Augute stands stiffly, unsure of what to do as Sebate sobs into his t-shirt.
He gently pats Sebate’s back with a concerned stare. Sebate lets out a shuddering sigh once his crying finally dies down, his unabashed cries dying down into an inaudible whimper. Before Augute can speak, Sebate pulls away from him to gather himself. He rubs his tired, glistening eyes with the back of his knuckles. He drags his fingertips across his cheeks, trying to dry up whatever may be left of his tears. He clears his throat, then glances to Augute. The two say nothing. What could they say? What could possibly mend the chasm between them now? Augute blinks, trying to give a reassuring smile. It only comes out as a downturned grimace. Sebate huffs quietly.
"I'm sorry," he says once more, voice raw. "I shouldn't... I can't..." he rasps, but his words fail him. Augute squints, slightly bewildered now that the dust has settled. He reaches out to touch Sebate again. Sebate does not stop him, only watching as his Augute's palm rests on his shoulder.
"We can talk, If you want to," Augute mumbles, taking a seat next to Sebate. Sebate looks downwards, subconsciously curling inwards.
"Sure. Keep it short... please."
Augute blinks.
"Oh, um. Yeah. Sure. What happened, then, that woke you up?
Sebate traces the rim of his cup with his pointer and his thumb.
"I just had a nightmare. It's not anything I'm not used to, and it's not anything that should affect you."
Augute scoots closer, the men’s elbows almost touching now.
“It… it won’t, I promise.”
Sebate notices Augute’s skin brushing against his own, but he says nothing. He imperceptibly shifts his arm closer.
“It was a flashback, I guess… like an amalgam of bad memories. When I—when we served for Nusia, but, you weren’t there.” Sebate speaks slowly, trying to tread through his mind with caution. “I don’t know. I felt suffocated by everything.”
Augute nods. He stays quiet, hoping it will coax Sebate to speak further. He has to stop himself from getting too excited; he hasn’t heard Sebate speak this deeply about himself since their deployment. He perches his chin on his hand, tilting his head to get a better look at Sebate.
“I watched people die. That’s it.”
Sebate rubs his face. He sinks into his hands with a pitiful sigh.
…
“Uhm. Thanks….” Augute mumbles, voice slowly rising in volume, “…thanks for telling me. Really, I appreciate it.”
“Mm,” Sebate shakes his head, slightly flustered from the sudden vulnerability. He finishes what’s left of his whiskey with a large gulp. “I’m going back to bed.”
Augute perks up.
“Wait, er,” he shifts, considering his words, “I want to walk you there. You’ve already drank a bit.”
Sebate raises a brow.
“Oh, please. I appreciate it, but I’m not inebriated. Not even slightly.” The last part is a clear lie. While it is true he is not completely drunk, a piece of him is visibly loosened up.
Augute quickly looks away in embarrassment.
“Well—I, I was just offering…”
Sebate rises to his feet with a subtle wobble. He doesn’t bother to put away the bottle of whiskey. He can handle it in the morning. He slowly trudges back down the hallway to his room, feeling the closeness of Augute cautiously following right in his shadow. He almost musters the energy to roll his eyes. Augute lingers in the doorframe as Sebate walks into his room. He slowly steps forward once Sebate carelessly throws himself on his bed. Augute gently grabs his covers, gingerly draping them over the man. Sebate only buries his face into his pillow in response. He’s too tired to care now. He’ll surely regret it in the morning, but for now, he is somewhere safe and warm. A quiet solace stopping the eternal motion of his mind. His eyes slowly drift shut, faintly listening to Augute’s footsteps as he leaves the room and silently shuts the door.
He drifts into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.