his answer hits her harder than she could've anticipated ; unexpected and sudden , and the words hang in the air between them with unspoken weight as her eyes avert downwards . the simple honesty makes her pause , taking in his words , letting them sit and be absorbed instead of simply responding to them . it isn't a truth she'd considered , a fear she didn't expect to hear vocalized by him ; that the real scare didn't lay in the danger or the possibility of violence , but in the ache of missing the window and not being able to reach them in time . until now she's pushed it down , the thought of the alternative ending to the story . she'd wrapped herself in denial , thinking that the pain would be easier to bear if she refused to look into it too deeply ⎯⎯⎯ but perhaps the careful weaving of the disguise had unknowingly anchored her to the very darkness she was so desperately trying to escape .
she listens intently as he recounts the story of the young soldier once by his side . her mind is whirled with images ⎯⎯⎯ trying to imagine what it would've been like for his loved ones , his friends , his sisters . the thought alone makes her chest tighten . she doesn’t have to put her imagination to much use ; it's embedded in her bones , in her own heartbreak , spilling into the story . o’malley , his kindness and the small yet pure and selfless gesture amid his own chaos brings a faint smile to her lips — first one to reach her eyes that day , and it’s bittersweet . her thoughts drift to her own brother ; the soldier's face , blurred until now , merges with ender’s as the image sharpens , and suddenly he’s there ; too young , too scared and too far away from his family's reach as death claimed his innocence . nineteen , she thinks . “ he was just a boy , ” she mutters , and she's not sure who she's talking about anymore . her thoughts would often drift off to his final moment ; slumped down on the ground in the poorly lit shadows of some cluttered alleyway , gasping for air while blood pooled beneath him . and she'd always wondered , with an ache that never quite disappeared ⎯⎯⎯ was there someone kneeling beside him in the darkness , like mateo , trying to keep him breathing for just a second longer as he was bleeding out like spilled ink on the cold concrete and into the night , or did he draw his last breath alone and scared , leaving only the silent darkness to witness his last moments ?
the thought of him , the imagery , it becomes too persistent , too all - consuming , and she has to momentarily force her eyes shut to make her mind stop from spiraling further and pull her deeper into the darkness , to tuck the wave of oncoming emotion carefully behind the walls of her chest . “ did you ever speak to them ? his family , i mean . his sisters . do they know you tried to save him ? ” gaze cast down to the knife still in hand , resting in her lap , not quite knowing how to meet his stare as she speaks her brother's name out loud . “ with ender , i — , ” her throat closes , and she swallows painfully , fighting back the rising lump taking form . fingers curl nervously around the sleek steel for some kind of support as she continues . “ — i always thought that if i could just get some answers , if i knew what happened , what he saw . . . then maybe it would be easier to move on . ” a sigh passes her lips . “ i don't know . . . maybe i'm just trying to make myself feel better about the fact that i haven't , ” her shoulders roll with a small shrug , recognizing the very real possibility that she could be blaming her inability to put it behind her on someone else . “ but i'd like to think that knowing he wasn't alone when he — , ” she cuts herself off , lacking the courage to speak his passing into existence just yet . “ — that i would find some comfort in that . maybe they would too , you know ? ”
she sits quietly , the weight of his words settling into the space between them . sometimes it's just knowing someone else has carried it too . there is a strange comfort blooming at her chest , knowing she’s not alone , a fragile thread tying her to someone who understands the burden . but even as she draws comfort from the shared experience , a tenderness grows , an ache of wanting more than to just coexist with the shadows lurking in her mind ; to not just live alongside the fear . his routine was still impacted by his own , his worries . it had become permanent ; embedded so deep you no longer questioned it . he had seemingly made peace with the idea of forever living with that fear ; a quiet resignation , an unspoken surrender . not from weakness , but a recognition that some battles don’t always end with victory ⎯⎯⎯ an acceptance she’s not sure she’s ready to allow to become reality just yet . a flicker of something bothers her , a quiet discomfort at the thought of him resigned to a state where the shadows would never fully fade . she doesn’t wish for him to be forever haunted by his past , living with the echoes of those memories , tied down by fears that refused to loosen their grip . she wants him to find peace , not merely survive in the aftermath of the storm . “ you don’t have to move through it alone , though . ” the words tumble softly from her lips before she can catch herself , which brings warmth to her cheeks , a flush of regret creeping in . “ i didn't mean . . . i’m sure you have plenty of people to talk to already . ” the words feel too heavy now , too personal — like she's opened a door she maybe should've kept closed . had she overstepped ? been too forward , too presumptive ⎯⎯⎯ offering solace when they barely knew each other ; where it wasn't wanted nor needed . “ i just figured — , ” a careful beginning of a smile , delicate and shy of nature , carried with a shadow of doubt pulls at the corner of her lips , a flicker of anticipation in her gaze . “ — with everything you've already done for me . . one more can't hurt ? ”
she hesitates for a few moments , her throat tightening as the words hover . she searches for the right ones while another silence stretches between them . “ was that also when . . . ? ” her voice is quieter as she dares to pose the question . “ emre told me that . . . well , to be fair , i asked about you . and he , uh , he said you got hurt over there . ” there’s a slight tinge of embarrassment in admitting to the fact that she’d been asking questions , prying , so openly curious about his past , but knowing the deep running friendship between mateo and emre , she would rather expose her own curious nature than paint her uncle out to be anything but loyal to him . it’s not my story to tell , emre had said , but proceeded to trust her with a silver of truth . “ please don’t tell him i told you that . he's always saying i’m too nosy for my own good . ” she pictures emre’s frown at the very forefront of her mind ; deep and darkened and serious looking , in stark contrast to the way his voice would still carry its usual warmth , brows knitted together while he pinched the plump of her cheek ⎯⎯⎯ a habit that had transcended her grown age . “ you don’t have to answer that , ” she adds hurriedly , a hushed apology in her tone , “ i just . . . — , ” her words come to a halt , not quite sure how to finish the sentence , unsure about its direction and how to spell out the way she feels drawn to him ⎯⎯⎯ if she should even be admitting to that truth in the first place .
each story , every small , tentative moment of honesty , however minor , was another puzzle piece slipping into place , revealing a glimpse of him she’d never seen before . at first , she’d only known the shape of his silence , the guarded exterior he wore so well , but as he spoke , a picture began to emerge — one stitched together with vulnerability and fragile threads she was eager to follow . with every new piece , she found herself pulled closer in a way she couldn't quite explain . not yet . she realizes she’s learning about him gradually , little by little , like watching a mosaic take form ⎯⎯⎯ each fragment adding depth , color and shadows , despite instinctively knowing that some part would remain hidden . she looks away for a moment , her gaze drifting into the distance as her mind pulls her back to the bitter truth her mother once had spoken ⎯⎯⎯ men like them . . there's always another layer . a wall you think you've broken down , but really , it's just followed by another one . and no matter how close you get , you'll only ever see what they want you to see . the rest is buried so deep you can't reach it without getting your own hands bloody . she wonders if her mother had been right all along . “ — . . . i guess a part of me wants to get to know you better , that's all . ” the words feel raw as she looks back at him , half - formed , as if she's carefully testing the waters of her own feelings . her mind spins with conflicting emotions — wondering if it really was that simple . was she seeking friendship , just a fragile need for a meaningful connection ? was it fear of being left to navigate the aftermath of that night alone , simply clinging to the one person who'd been her anchor and shield against chaos ? or was there something deeper , messier , tangled behind it ?
romaincrisis
amandla
kianamaiart
gracieabrams
