You almost don't notice when he returns these days, the comings and goings of another human strangely familiar, given how brief it's been. Though the sound of the door crashing open sits somewhere outside that expected range, causing you to sit up abruptly, your book falling on your chest and your eyes going wide. He's usually so quiet the door opening just so, the echo of his footsteps almost imperceptible, his paces causing the floor to creak predictably.
The sounds you hear now? These sounds are wrong.
Before you know it you're on your feet, creeping toward the stairs. There's a rock clenched in one hand, just in case, and you curse Ki's absence from the house. Is it a burglar, some idiot child thinking your house would make a good mark? A drunk, staggering in from the beach? Wouldn't be the first time, but it'd take Red by surprise, you're sure. You'd rather he not have to see the harsher parts of Torchline yet, rather he stay cheerful, rather he-
-rather he not be sitting at your kitchen table, sobbing.
"Red?" You're halfway down the staircase, the rock still in your hand. In your mind an image flashes: El sitting in that same spot five years before, her head in her arms, the sobs shaking her body. It had been the last night they really spoke, and you've relived it so many times you can't count. What if you'd said something different, or nothing at all? If you'd been better then, stronger, would she still be here? How had you fucked it all up so badly?
You should leave, you know, let Sam go through whatever he's going through, before you fuck things up again.
But you can't do that, because under all that stoicism you're a fucking bleeding heart, aren't you, Zeph?
The rock is on the steps, and you're at the bottom of them, and then you're kneeling on the floor in front of the distraught man. "Red?" Your hand hovers over his knee, hesitating a moment, not sure what to do. "You... what happened? You.. y'okay?"
Obviously he is not. Very smooth indeed.
The sounds you hear now? These sounds are wrong.
Before you know it you're on your feet, creeping toward the stairs. There's a rock clenched in one hand, just in case, and you curse Ki's absence from the house. Is it a burglar, some idiot child thinking your house would make a good mark? A drunk, staggering in from the beach? Wouldn't be the first time, but it'd take Red by surprise, you're sure. You'd rather he not have to see the harsher parts of Torchline yet, rather he stay cheerful, rather he-
-rather he not be sitting at your kitchen table, sobbing.
"Red?" You're halfway down the staircase, the rock still in your hand. In your mind an image flashes: El sitting in that same spot five years before, her head in her arms, the sobs shaking her body. It had been the last night they really spoke, and you've relived it so many times you can't count. What if you'd said something different, or nothing at all? If you'd been better then, stronger, would she still be here? How had you fucked it all up so badly?
You should leave, you know, let Sam go through whatever he's going through, before you fuck things up again.
But you can't do that, because under all that stoicism you're a fucking bleeding heart, aren't you, Zeph?
The rock is on the steps, and you're at the bottom of them, and then you're kneeling on the floor in front of the distraught man. "Red?" Your hand hovers over his knee, hesitating a moment, not sure what to do. "You... what happened? You.. y'okay?"
Obviously he is not. Very smooth indeed.
and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deckbut you're my king and i'm your lionheart
creatures lurk below the deckbut you're my king and i'm your lionheart
