He sat on his doorstep and flipped the bottle around in his hands. It was like a magic potion, the way that it glinted in the moonlight, you would have certainly thought thatâs what it was. In a way, for him, it truly was. It was the potion of a facade of being alright. How long had he been holding onto it? How long had he wished that it would act as an eraser, taking away his pain. But it wasnât a magic potion. It was just cover-up, hiding his problems rather than facing them.Â
How well hiding his problems had gone. Like this damn bottle, he was just made of glass, and waiting to break. How silly of him to believe that he could just escape from this. How silly of him to think that having a second chance would have turned out any better than the first time. His face throbbed in a way he wished he could forget. In a way that brought back such painful memories he was ready to tear his beating heart out of his chest and throw it away.Â
How silly of him to think that anything was real anymore. That he could escape the pain so easily. The feeling of warm tears falling out of throbbing ducts. Why had he been damned to continue living this forsaken goddamn life?! Continue being embarrassed and beat by everyone around him. Was that what he would always be resigned to!? Pontifex could feel the makeup trailing away off of his face, follow the path of the tears that dripped onto the ground of the cold stone steps. Why had he been brought to this purgatory?
Pontifex hurriedly shot up, not wanting to stay here and feel sorry for himself any longer. Surely a short walk would clear his mindâŠÂ
His shoes sunk into the sand of the beach out in front of him. It had once been such a happy place⊠Now it only brought a dull pain. He took off his shoes and let his toes sink into the cold sand, wishing he could sink into it and suffocateâŠÂ
The oceanâs quiet sounds filled the night, the moon shining down on him just as beautifully as it had when his life was finally starting to look up. He felt a hot wave of resentment wash over him like the sounds of the ocean in front of him. Before he could stop himself, Pontifex ran out into the water, his toes sinking into the wet sand as the water crashed over the tops of his feet. The cold water made him feel just a little bit more alive. It reminded him of the ice that his brothers used to put on his injuries when they would happen, all the way back when he was a little kid. His anger became a cold fire, fed by the crashing of the waves on his ankles, shins, up to his knees, running out further and further into the water without stopping, wishing he could be carried away in the roaring waters.Â
âIs this what you want Ponty?âÂ
That quiet, gentle voice made him freeze, fists clenched tightly as he looked over at the voice. Not as cocky as the last time theyâd met, that was for sure.Â
When Pontyâs eyes met his glowing ones, Pontifex treaded backwards quickly, his heels catching in the sand causing him to slip back, into the water as another wave crashed.Â
âGet away from me Hollow,â Pontifex said, lifting himself out of the sand and grabbing tighter onto the bottle in his hands. âI donât need you to gloat.âÂ
âYou donât really think Iâm here to gloat.â He spoke so calmlyâŠÂ
Pontifex almost tripped back into the water, but stopped himself. âWhy the hell else would you be here? Your kid won and I didnât.âÂ
He shook his head a little bit. âI know the Arena does things to us, Ponty. You all just wanted to get home.âÂ
Pontifex blinked at him, his shoulders dropping as tension was let out of them. âYou didnât.âÂ
âI volunteered to⊠Get away, I suppose. Not that you would know anything about that.â The way his eyebrow was raised⊠Pontifex turned away from him, feeling ashamed at the sorry state Hollow had found him in.Â
âI volunteered to prove a point to the people who doubted me. It was my destiny.â To get away⊠No. Get away from what?Â
âSo what? You win, achieve your glory, then what? Then youâre happy?âÂ
A lump formed in Pontifexâs throat. He had always thought that, hadnât he? And hadnât realized until it was too late that he wouldnât find happiness that way.Â
âWell, I died. So it doesnât really matter does it? Did a stint as his plaything. And now what?âÂ
âSeems like youâre ready to push out the people in your life that can hurt you until you lose them. And the cycle will start again. Youâre running in circles here, Ponty.âÂ
Pontifex didnât look back at him, staring out into the vast infinity in front of him. Circles, circles that will never end.Â
âWho are you to try and tell me this?â he asked bitingly, hoping that Hollow would just leave him the fuck alone. There was a brief silence.Â
âSomeone who knows how tiring infinity is.âÂ
Pontifex stared at the water sparkling as it floated over his toes. He could hear the exhaustion in Atticusâs voice. âWho am I to break the loop?â he asked.Â
âOh come on, donât say that-âÂ
âYou see right through me Hollow. You knew it and so did I. Why do you think I hated you so badly?âÂ
âIs that a past tense of hate Iâm hearing?â the teasing in his voice came back, and Pontifex certainly couldnât look at him now. Not knowing how he was smiling. Not looking like what Pontifex looked like.Â
âCan you shush asshole, Iâm trying to be real with you.âÂ
âSorry, it was too weird without your ever so charming nicknames for me.â He chuckled and Pontifex realized how much closer Atticus had stepped to him.Â
âYeah yeah.â Pontifex waved a hand at him, realizing the weight of the bottle that he was so desperately clutching onto. âYou always saw right through me. You never lost your fuse with me. I couldnât trick you into believing I actually thought what I was saying was true.âÂ
Atticus gave a small laugh and Pontifex felt his warm hand grab his shoulder. âYouâre good at hiding Pontifex. But how long are you going to keep running away?âÂ
Pontifex turned away from him, feeling ashamed. He wasnât strong enough to face his problems and they both knew it. âIâll handle it just fine on my own. I donât need others to help me. Theyâll just get worried. Theyâll just use it against me.âÂ
Pontifex squeezed his eyes shut. He knew if she ever knew he thought that, sheâd be so hurt. He didnât want to hurt her. She was finally getting excited for him, she was just so glad he was happy⊠She didnât have to know any better. She could just be happy with the ginger she found, without Pontifexâs trauma on her shoulders. âItâs not her burden to carry.âÂ
âOh, Ponty. You keep living like that and youâre just going to keel over one day from sheer exhaustion. I know that from experience.âÂ
Pontifex took a deep breath, feeling the air rushing into his lungs. Slowly, shaking, he let it out. âYou donât understand what Iâm carrying. I lost my brothers. I was chewed up and spit out. I acted out and just made everything worse. Itâs not her job to handle the problems that I caused for my own damn self.â
âIâll take that then.âÂ
Atticus rubbed his shoulder gently. âItâs never easy to lose people that youâre close with. Definitely drives you to do rash, stupid shit. Youâre really not alone in that doghouse.â He gave a snaggle-toothed smile and Pontifex quickly looked away from him. âBut you have the chance to break free from it, to let those times go. You should take advantage of that.âÂ
How badly he wanted to be free⊠How he had dreamed of being free. Happy. How badly he had been holding these things close to him and imprisoning himself. Pontifex flipped the bottle in his hand. He had been using it for so long to hideâŠÂ
Pontifex put his arm back, and with all of his might, threw the bottle far away from him, into the vast, practically infinite ocean with a yell. He was tired of hiding all of this away, putting on this facade⊠Atty was right, he just couldnât handle this anymore. He was so hurt, and angry, but mostly just tired of having to pretend in front of his friends that nothing was wrong.
âYou probably could have done it without littering, but alright.âÂ
âOh, shut up.â He could feel the bruised area around his eye bruising, popping out, so painfully evident to anyone that even gave him a brief look. Pontifex started back towards the shore, shivering a little from the cold water with the night breeze. When he looked back, Atticus wasnât behind him. He was still standing in the water, looking out at the infinite shoreline.Â
âWell dumbass? Arenât you coming?â
Atticus gave him a small smile. âNot right now. You go ahead. Iâll be back for you soon.âÂ
âWait, are you leaving?â Pontifex suddenly didnât want him to go, and started back into the deepness of the water.
Atticusâs smile wavered for just a moment. âDonât worry Ponty, I have until infinity.âÂ
Before Pontifex could reach him, Atticus disappeared into a flash of blue light, and he was left on the beach alone. Slowly, Pontifex put his shoes back on and walked back into the Castle, glad to pick up some towels and get something to eat. He was determined to end the cycle, but he was emotionally spent for one day. As he ate some toast and honey, he felt the warmth fill his insides. Honey, ha, that would be a cute nickname someday. Maybe not just honey, something with honey. Like... Pontifex couldnât think of anything, quickly catching himself in the thought. It was going to be forever before someone else would come around that could actually love for someone as fucked and broken as he was.Â
But somehow, Pontifex had a funny feeling that he already had.Â
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