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The newly bought two-bedroom apartment feels bare as Cass takes his first step inside, pollen-ridden soles immediately dirtying the freshly polished wood. Gale follows shortly behind him, whistling at the spacious room they've only ever encountered through virtual tours and online reviews.
"Well I'll be damned. This was definitely a steal!"
With the moving van still open in the parking lot, he quickly sets down his bags before heading out again to unload the rest of their stuff. Coming from their university dorms, not much is there to carry besides personal necessities. The furniture comes after they make up for their initial deposit.
“Don’t just stand there. Help me haul all this shit inside.”
Gale scoffs and takes a box from his grasp. “You mean your shit inside? Half of that moving truck is clothes you brought. We don’t even have the dressers yet to put them in!”
“Ok, so? What does that have to do with helping me bring everything inside?”
His friend rolls his eyes but obliges nonetheless. The two of them quickly decide on which bedroom they want to own before trudging out for more reluctant exercise.
That’s what they spend most of the day doing—running back and forth from the truck to the room, thanking whatever higher powers are out there for being settled on the bottom floor. Having the doors be on the outside with only wooden steps for means of movement, he'd probably end it all right then and there upon discovering they'd have to later haul magnificently heavy couches and shelves up more than one flight.
For now, the clothing boxes have to settle for being stacked in the corner of his bedroom. Ignoring how his closet is significantly more crowded than his roommate's, he tries to make up for it by paying the full price for the hired moving van. That shuts him up real quick.
When he leaves to carry in the last remaining handful of stuff, he finds Gale obnoxiously standing still by the foot of the apartment complex, surveying the unimpressive parking lot. Cracked cement, cars whirring by, nothing but bland trees and dull parked cars—Cass doesn't know what he sees.
“Is there some sort of sunset I’m missing here? Or are you doing that weird thing again where you randomly stare off into space and break the silence with some stupid shit.”
Instead of the laugh he’s so accustomed to hearing, an odd silence settles over their shoulders. Gale turns around with crinkled eyes and a solemn, yet satisfied, demeanor.
“Nah, man. Not today.”
When he tries to match his friend's gaze and envision the spectacularness of the sight, he comes up blank. Maybe it’s the cortisol rush of unfamiliarity. Maybe it’s the pressure of not being able to make too many mistakes anymore.
“You seem pretty calm for all this.”
“And you’re not?” He grins, and that recognizable amicable expression returns. “C’mon, Cass, loosen up a little. We literally just got here.”
"Exactly, man! And there’s already so much to do. As soon as one of our computers is set up, we need to organize the utilities and make sure that—"
Gale interrupts him with a finger to his lips. "Brother, relax. Take a breath. Unpack first, worry later."
He inhales in. Exhales out. Feels the friction of his hot air against the finger still lingering near his mouth. It's a bizarre mechanism of comfort, the wildest touch near one of his most intimate areas. Yet he doesn't swat his hand away. Only stares a bit cross-eyed at the phenomenon, wondering why his friend doesn't pull away either.
He wants to savor it. Drink in the alluring sensation that rises at the contact. The one that triggers his nervous system and screams at him to make a decision—to ignore it or encourage it further.
"Well!" Cass shouts a bit too loudly. "I'll uh, continue to bring in the last of the stuff. It’s getting too hot out here.”
Marbled bouts of laughter follow him back to their apartment. They take a break to research the local places around them for food and entertainment. They take a short trip to the grocery store for basic cold necessities. Even with the correct ingredients to cook, the fatigue hits them too hard when they get back, and they’re forced to take an evening break despite still having so much to do.
It’s hard to wind down from both the excitement and distress of moving—air mattresses for mediocre sleep and tableless dinners are hardly the ideal living situation. Their clothes sit tight in packed boxes and bins, his neatly folded with Gale's all shoved together haphazardly. At least they had the courage to haul their mini flatscreen TV across miles of bumpy roads and deserted stops, giving them a night of ordered pizza and feasible entertainment.
“Y’know, Cass…” he turns to see his best friend beam at him, a bit uncharacteristically sincere in comparison to his typical flamboyancy. Beneath those teeth and buried between all those light-hearted jokes is an earnest soul desperately grateful for their friendship. It’s the rays of the sun that sneak through closed blinds and show the darkness that there’s a bit of light worth fighting for.
“I’m really happy we made it this far.”
Cass doesn’t smile—his body does that for him. His heart lies instead still stuck on the image of Gale looking at him like he’s the most precious treasure in the world. A part of him, he tries so hard to hide, knows that if he came clean with the truth, his expression would be even more visibly intense than his friend’s. Because that’s what Gale is under all this tension—his friend.
You should tell him.
Tell him how you really feel.
He doesn’t. He can't risk ruining the moment.
The moment breaks with a guttural laugh from Gale, slicing the tension into thin slices and serving them elsewhere. He tries to awkwardly laugh alongside the man, who seemingly didn’t notice the thickness of the air or the prolonged duration of the silence. With his attention turned back to the TV, Cass sinks into the domesticity of him chewing on cheap, greasy pizza, face illuminated by the rainbows on the screen. Just an arm’s reach away—alone, the two of them, with all the time and future ahead of them.
They connect in the stale apartment, basking in the feeling of newfound discovery. Of adulthood and rent and stress and messes that never seem to stop coming your way. But that’s future Cass’s problem. For now, he’s a giddy young man excited to move up in the world like a character straight from a cringeworthy, unrealistic coming-of-age movie.
The pizza slices mysteriously vanish. The TV dims. They each say goodnight before heading to their own blow-up mattresses that are too uncomfortable for typical sleep. Cars drive by near the complex way past when the sun sets. The fridge that came with the apartment keeps making strange noises.
But that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of his future plans.
When Cass goes to bed that night, he dreams of golden waves gently luring him out to the sea’s grandest treasures—ones worth cherishing for eternity.
*****
A few weeks in, the place slowly morphs into a space worth calling home. Their beds are finally constructed in their respective rooms. Although they’re barely decorated with only the slightest of personal touches—minute decorations that still allow the feeling of emptiness to slip through the cracks. One of his small plants stands tall by the windowsill. Gale has a Pokémon poster above his desk, one Cass to this day is still jealous about. Of course, their card collections are tucked somewhere out of sight. Couches are expensive, but at least they finally have a table. And the PC setups that are almost double the cost of the rent.
A worthwhile investment for people like them. When Cass wakes up with an exhausted yawn, he slips out of his bed, which his back continues to be grateful for, and hobbles out into the common area. That’s where he finds Gale parading about in the kitchen, too bright and early for his liking. The man rapidly talks to himself with a slight pace to his steps, instantly triggering his curiosity.
“Gale? What the fuck are you doing?”
He pauses and whips his head around in shock. “Oh shit! I didn’t realize you were awake.”
“Yeah, and I didn’t realize you were so interested in learning how to speak tongues. Why does it sound like you're performing a ritual on an early weekend morning?"
His friend feigns insouciance as he stops in place and scratches his head. “Nah, man. Just thinking out loud. I promise I wasn’t casting spells on you or anything.”
Cass ignores him and heads straight for a food source to start the day. When he goes to open the fridge, a sharp pain shoots up his shoulder. It spreads and warms around his muscles, warning him to stop in his tracks. His face wrinkles as he tries to stretch it out. Odd.
“You good, man?” Gale’s concerned face peeks at the corner of his vision. “What the hell happened to your arm?”
He thinks of the countless trips over the days of hauling heavy objects and bizarre movements from unpacking, and brushes it off.
“I dunno, dude. Probably just strained it or something.”
“From what? Moving your mouse too fast on your new gaming desk?”
Cass goes to hit him but misses miserably. “From unpacking, dumbass! I’ll have you know, I did a lot of the heavy lifting.”
“You?” He snickers. “Okay, and I like to eat vegetables.”
“Bro, you literally didn’t move all that yourself! I’m not the twink you keep claiming me to be. So shut the hell up.”
Gale laughs and walks away. “Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”
“It’s the truth! Wait, where are you going?”
His roommate gestures to the space behind him with a nod. “To buy groceries. We have jack shit in this place.”
Cass turns his attention to the fridge he still holds open, startled to find it emptier than the apartment when they first moved in. A few colas. A takeout box. Various condiments and ingredients that he can count on one hand.
“Shit, you’re right…want me to come with you?”
He turns around, but his friend is long gone. With a defeated sigh, he shuts the fridge and wonders if the two of them are ever gonna reach the peak they strive to aim for. No couch. No groceries. They still haven’t gotten a TV stand or a shoe rack either.
At least their bills are paid, more than a lot can say.
A dry laugh brightens up the dull apartment. The morning rays peak in through the opened blinds that Gale always insisted on setting for who knows what reason. He watches the top of the halo crawl its way above the trees. Its bright orange and yellow hue reminds him all too much of the smile that can’t seem to escape his mind.
You should tell him.
Tell him how you really feel.
He flicks out the thoughts with a grunt and goes to conjure up some painkillers and a hot compress for his shoulder. The time isn’t right—not now with everything still being figured out. Between new jobs and new priorities, it should be the last thing on his mind, not the first. After waiting a while for the pain to subside, he begrudgingly shimmers into his work clothes and heads out the door without waiting for Gale to return with the groceries. It’s not like he’s hungry anyway.
The drive to the establishment takes a while. Despite securing the job almost immediately after moving, he’s still a bit unused to the layout of the city and likes to use mobile directions. Sometimes, he takes the backroads when there’s time and likes to stop a little too long at stop signs. He feels for the environment and searches for any signs that this thing of theirs they got going on is worth permanency. Grass is the same shade of green. The suburbs look like every other one he’s visited. Even the air seems to be thicker and greyer than what he’s used to.
But they’ll make it through this. Slowly, but surely.
*****
One day, when Cass comes back from a particularly stressful shift at work, he finds Gale leaning on the counter extending from the center wall, shooting him a grin too mischievous for his comfort. It rattles something in him. Something both unsettling and stimulating.
“Oh, Caaaaassss~” he sings.
Ignoring the smile threatening to beseech his nonchalant expression, he feigns disinterest with a dramatic drop of his keys on the stand by the door and loudly sighs on his way to the kitchen. Usually, he’d tease back and fight against whatever bullshit Gale decides to torment him with for the day. It’s endearing when he isn’t suffocating in stress.
“C’mon, don’t ignore me, man! I got some good news for you!”
The surprise stops his parade. He turns, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, shocked at the announcement. Any previous remnants of inner turmoil vanish at the incoming wave of anticipation. Gale turns the corner and appears near his side. His heart flutters at the close proximity. Their future visibly evolves before his eyes.
“I got the job!”
“Oh hell yeah!” He yells and claps in tandem with the bearer of excellent news, thankful for their nonexistent downstairs neighbors. Almost immediately, his sour mood evaporates and is replaced by an overwhelming bundle of pleasant eagerness.
He’d been looking for a salary job since they started moving in, when they realized they could barely afford anything above the necessities with their current combination of income. While Cass’s boring office job pays enough for most of the rent, Gale constantly complained about never being satisfied with his portion of the contribution. How, because of him, they still had no couch or shelves for Pokémon collectibles, or random trinkets and obscure decor.
Though he never said it out loud, part of him was grateful they never got the opportunity to test the full extent of Gale’s interior design potential.
But at the sight of such raw happiness, he’d withstand any level of questionable additions to the apartment if it meant getting to see it again.
You should tell him.
Tell him what you really feel.
“I know it’s good news, but it can’t be that good. Unless there’s something weird on my face?!”
He opens his mouth, but only air comes out. As Gale runs to the mirror to investigate the source of Cass’s apparently peculiar expression, he aggressively runs his hands down his face. These feelings have surfaced too fast for him to shove down again. Too fast for him to pass off as normal when he fails to hide them from the man who causes them.
“Oh, fuck me dude. I swear he just went grocery shopping!”
When there’s no visible evidence of food to eat besides a few random snacks and the same takeout box from days ago, he groans and slams it shut. The irritability returns, and it isn’t until he falls asleep without showering or eating that the negativity vanishes from his mind.
*****
The next morning, he forces his limbs to manually make the two of them breakfast. For once, Gale sleeps in, and he’s left to his own devices in a kitchen lacking a considerable amount of viable food. Of course, there isn’t much for him to do with what they have stored in the cabinets already, and he refuses to haul himself anywhere else besides work—too much energy to waste from his already low capacity.
A pasta box. Some condiments. A random tub of ice cream that Gale bought that hasn’t been touched since the time they first moved in. He loses all motivation in the face of depressing reality.
“Uh…Cass? What the fuck are you doing up at this hour?”
He cracks his neck and yawns. Gale slithers into his vision without any environmental cues that he walked up behind him in the first place. Too tired to properly render human existence, Cass shakes his head and mentally forgives himself for going back to bed.
“I wanted to make breakfast, but we don’t got shit around here. I’ll order something once I’m up for real in an hour or so. Sorry if I woke you up.”
Defeated, he groans and flops face-first into his mattress. He doesn’t hear Gale follow him in or feel the shift at the foot of his bed. He only sees the cocking of his friends head when he flips around, curious and innocent as a bird.
Cass wonders what it would feel like to fuel that curiosity under the covers. Of those strong fingers running up and down his cold skin. If the fire of passion were hot enough to burn the whole place down.
You should tell him.
Tell him how you really feel.
“Get some rest, dumbass. I’ll do something about breakfast.”
He closes his eyes and turns on the side that doesn’t have the aching shoulder. The more time passes, the more despondent he becomes.
He’ll tell him one day.
*****
Time ticks by too slowly for his liking. Instead of grandeur choices and life-changing promotions, he’s stuck in an endless loop of mundane boredom. Dust bunnies tango in the unreachable vents in places the two of them have been too lazy to fight off. The trash hasn’t been taken out yet, eager to spill out at any second. Cass lies on the hardwood floor in the spot where their couch should’ve gone, rethinking every single one of his life choices.
His head hurts. His body aches. He sighs.
Is this what the rest of his 20s is going to be like?
“You’re looking a little rough there, buddy.”
A startled scream jumps out of his throat. When he shifts his head, he sees Gale lying right there by his side. Even with a rough hand to his shoulder, Cass didn’t notice his presence. The fatigue must really be messing with his brain—yet another problem he has to be concerned about.
“What the fuck?” He sits up in shock and ignores the dizzy rush of blood to his ears. “When the hell did you get there?”
Gale only laughs and nearly jumps into a standing position. “I’m ceiling-gazing with you, duh. Now are you gonna sit on your ass all day or get up and help me start cleaning some of this shit?”
Cass groans and tries to run a hand through his tangled, unwashed hair. He doesn’t dare look over at the TV, too fearful of what might stare back at him. With the initial burst of adrenaline and excitement of moving long gone, he’s finally starting to reap the consequences of naivety.
“Just gimme a second, okay? Let me shower first.”
“What, so you can coincidentally take too long and come out with that convincing fake innocence of yours? All so you can tell me ‘shit, Gale, I was too busy doing my skincare routine to help you clean. Thanks for doing it all for me, though!’”
He crumples one of the bills on the table and chucks it at the man who never seems to get hit by any of his teasing attacks. “Fuck off. I’ll help you when I’m done.”
Gale winks and dramatically stretches in place, cracking his knuckles as Cass stands up to go shower. Not wanting to actually let his best friend do all the work, he hustles into the bathroom and almost cringes at the dirtied sink counter. Even with it being doubled, it’s still hard to see the white porcelain bottom. At least it serves as an immediate distraction from the mirror, something he continues to be afraid of.
Thin fingers strip off dirty clothes and throw them atop the pile in the hamper too overloaded for it to be considered anything other than a safety hazard. Even with a built-in laundry unit, that’s been another area of slack he struggles to pick up. Another empty box on a never-ending checklist. As he steps into the greyed bottom of the tub, he promises that it will be one of the first to check off.
Cold water burns his face. Phantom weights squeeze his muscles until he’s sitting under the harsh streams of the showerhead. He doesn’t bother to wash. Or shampoo. Or do anything but sit and swim in the currents of his mind. He imagines the water pressure as waves carefully whisking him away across a gentle sea, one where the sun actually kisses his skin and the waters aren’t as grey as the world paints them out to be. Gale’s carefree, muffled singing from behind the closed bathroom door lulls him in as if he were a dangerous siren out swimming along those waters.
If that stupidly handsome face of his was the one pulling him into despair, Cass probably wouldn't mind.
You should tell him.
Tell him how you really feel.
The sides of his small boat rock along serene waves. The siren continues to sing, pulling him further into the trenches. It pulls and pulls until the surface is out of sight, and ignorance gives him peace of mind.
He doesn’t need to tell him—things are perfectly fine as is.
*****
With Gale still at work, Cass doesn’t quite know how to cope with the burden of built-up responsibilities. Mail delivery after mail delivery piled up the stack on the table, forming a warped version of a Jenga tower one block away from toppling over. He tried going through it once during his day off a few days ago. Overdue utilities, charges from hospitals he never remembered visiting. Even conspicuous envelopes from family and friends who constantly try to distract him from the present financial issues at hand—it’s a little too late for housewarming messages anyway.
He’ll open them all once he’s sorted his situation out. One step at a time has been his personal motto as of late, a mantra he repeats until he either falls asleep or forgets the previous thought.
Which is why he shuffles the teetering stack over to the side and makes room for his work laptop on the table. To help with his production, he bought a small touch screen device to separate his priorities from his gaming hobbies. That and it’s easy to carry around when he has to conduct out-of-office business when he’s away from the apartment. After getting a passive aggressive email from his boss to get his shit together, he powered through the fatigue and sat his ass down on the hard floor to get some work done. That maybe a change of scenery away from his bedroom or local cafe would help.
And at this point, he’s seriously considering performing some sort of dangerous sacrificial ritual to get a couch to magically spawn in their apartment. Why the hell Gale hasn’t helped him pick one out already, he isn’t sure.
Fingers fly across greasy keys. His eye twitches irritably. Words blur, and the pains beneath his eyes stab until his lids forcibly shut. His body keeps acting out against him, but he refuses to do anything but keep working on his wants and needs. Cass desperately craves stability and solace.
He needs to feel Gale’s gentle touch again. He’s gone too long without it.
You should tell him.
Tell him how you really feel.
When he gets back, Cass thinks to himself. There’s nothing he can do now besides accept his fate and curl over his computer with strained eyes and terrible posture. His back tightens, but he doesn’t adjust. He freezes in time, imagining the soothing sensation of tan fingers working their way through his freshly shampooed hair. Of painless limbs and sunny days again. Of seas where the waves don’t threaten to pull him under.
Gods, he doesn’t know if he can hold in his feelings any longer.
“I’ll do it when he gets back from work…”
He works until the moon wins its usual fight against the sun and his insomnia loses against the burden of constant sleep deprivation. He shuts his laptop. Curls up on his side. Closes his eyes.
The front door never opens.
*****
Cass sits at the wheel of his car, too fatigued to do anything but chew at his lip and accept his fate. With the sun still way up in the sky and the day only halfway over, it feels bizarre to be cramped in a car seat when he should be at his desk slaving away like any other 9-to-5 worker. It feels weirder knowing he was cast away and treated like a sick child in grade school who needed to be picked up by their parents.
His boss told him to take some time off, only an hour after getting there. So concerned, and for what? A missed project or two? He promised to get them done by the end of the week! He doesn’t need some sleazebag older coworker picking up his slack. He can do it himself.
Part of him wishes he’d been fired instead—at least that would’ve been less embarrassing.
When he finally opens his eyes that he closed the moment he sat down, the bright light nearly burns his fragile corneas. Its rays sear the skin under his wrinkled button-up. A passing glance during a stretch of his neck stops at a colored stain near the fabric bunched by his belt, whose purpose seems to be only for keeping up appearances because of how loose it lies. The buttons aren’t aligned, and the undershirt beneath it all feels inside-out.
He doesn’t have the energy to comment on the ridiculousness. Just because he woke up on the wrong side of the bed one morning doesn’t mean it calls for a concerned temporary layoff.
Expectations keep falling apart, and he keeps failing to deal with the repercussions.
Despite the keys hanging in the ignition, Cass doesn’t turn on the vehicle. His body is too occupied fighting to stay awake. Eye bags sink all the way down his face, dark circles mirroring the night sky he’s too used to seeing in lieu of the daytime sparkle. A bit unsure of his current physical capacity, he calls Gale’s cell and hopes his friend will be willing to drive him home.
“Hey! So sorry to break it to you, but if you’re hearing this message, Gale Galleon cannot come to the phone right now. If it’s too important not to send in an email, feel free to leave a voice message. Thanks!”
A harsh beep rings. He shakes his head. Of course, the man is awake and at home right now—he has to be.
“Gale, stop playing games with me and answer the damn phone like a normal person.”
If he strains his ears hard enough, he’s barely able to pick up on shuffling on the other end. There’s a cough. Some sort of grunt. When he finally hears a familiar voice, the stale air of the car lifts, and the sun no longer burns his skin.
“...Cass?”
“Gale. Brother. I think I fucked up.”
A tired sigh sounds from the end of the line. His stomach drops.
“Hey man, don’t even worry about it. What’s up? Did something happen?”
“Uhh…” Pale cheeks burst with blooming pink. “N-Nothing! Just got sent home early from being sick at my job, that’s all.”
“Holy shit. Is it really that bad? I thought you were getting better.”
He shakes his head and nearly slaps himself when he realizes Gale can’t see through the phone. “No, I—it’s hard to explain, but it’s not like that. Just a cold or something.”
“A cold. Cass, it’s in the middle of fucking summer.”
“So?! You can get colds in the summer.”
“Look man, if you don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine. Just make sure you take care of yourself.”
…
You should tell him.
Tell him how you really feel.
“Yeah, yeah, I promise. Anyway, I wanted to call to let you know I’ll be back early. But since I have free time, did you want me to pick anything up?”
“If you say so. And if you’re offering, can you pick me up some sodas? The ones I really like? Pretty please with a cherry on time.”
The first chuckle in a long time rips out of him, scratching his sore throat on the way out. “Sure. Fuck it. Anything else?”
“Hmm, lemme think. A new couch, maybe? Oh, and a few million dollars! Can't forget the—"
A beep rings. Gale’s voice cuts out before he finishes the joke. They’d only been talking for three minutes. A bit annoyed at the wonky connection, he redials.
“Hey! So sorry to break it to you, but if you’re hearing this message, Gale Galleon cannot come to the phone right now. If it’s too important not to send in an email, feel free to leave a voice message. Thanks!”
A beep.
“Gale? The joke was only somewhat funny the first time.”
“...”
He hangs up and calls back.
The joke repeats itself.
He turns off his phone.
Cass closes his eyes and barricades his mind off from the real world until he passes out from exhaustion in the parking lot of his workplace.
*****
The apartment finally starts to bear the burden of his broken soul. Where dust bunnies once danced, thick cobwebs now spread. His stomach releases a primal growl at the thought of his fridge, still as barren as all those weeks ago. The stench of the old takeout box extends all the way into the living room, infiltrating his nostrils until he can't take it anymore.
He looks at the unpaid bills and printed warning notices all sprawled out on the table. Under the table. Some tossed into the hallway. He sits, bones directly on the hard floor, shattered expression laughing at him from the darkness of the turned-off TV. Bruised cheeks and unhealed scratches stain his once perfect portrait. The smile that taunts him isn't his—it's a monster's.
The clock they don't have ticks by his ear. A knocking reminder of the time he keeps wasting.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Knock knock, Cassian.
Who's there?
No one.
His vision flickers momentarily in the direction of Gale’s room. He doesn’t dare let his gaze linger too long, too frightened by the reality behind the door. When he enters, he won’t see a peaceful slumber or crazed late-night tomfoolery. He’ll see a graveyard with shoveled dirt and flowerless tombs—a sacred sight he’s too stubborn to visit.
You should tell him.
Tell him how you really feel.
A croak leaves his throat—a laugh broken into fragments. Small pieces of chipped glass too worn down to be put together again. He once had all the time in the world to put all the puzzle pieces together and procure the perfect future. Now he's stuck in a memory far out of the real world's reach.
Because Cass's opportunity vanished right alongside the one he needed the words to reach the most.
Reality slowly opens the gates near his eyes, gesturing with an open arm for the tears to escape. They trundle out at a snail's pace, surveying the new land beyond the gap. When the first one takes a step over the line, the rest quickly follow suit. He’s sinking in the waters he so heavily wished were ocean waves that were capable of washing him away entirely.
“Fuck…FUCK!”
He flips the table with the strength of a madman and lets the slam light the fire under the anger in his heart—the anger at himself for being so stupidly ignorant of the ways of life. Time this, time that. Look at the calendar, Cassian! Look at all that time left!
Month 1, month 2, year 1, year 2. We’re happy and loyal and oh we are so in love. I confess and you confess! We’re living out our dreams!
“Goddammit, dude…goddamn it all!”
He paces, back and forth. Ripping hairs and clenching teeth. Crying, just now, after all those weeks. Only now. Why are you only crying now, Cassian? You couldn't cry at the hospital? Not even at his goddamn funeral? Did you even love him at all?!
"Shut up!"
“Cass? You good, bro?! Why do you look like a wreck?”
Slowly. Carefully. Centimeters apart. As if his neck were tugged on by a tense string, he turns. Gale stands with a confused tilt of his head. His golden eyes glow at him like the sun, flaming in confusion and concern.
Cass screams and throws his phone.
When he adjusts his eyes, no one is there.
The sun died a long time ago.
His shoulder aches again from all the wreckage. Because he never properly got it checked out, he spent too many hours in preventable pain. To him, it was penance for being the only one who escaped with a few measly scratches—a physical punishment alongside a lifetime of regret.
It’s not like it matters anyway. He ignores his cracked phone behind him and steps over the wrinkled papers and littered trash. He opens the door to his room and flops onto the unmade bed, head sinking into the unwashed clothes mixed in with the muddy pillows. Not bothering to even change out the attire he's adorned for days, he closes his eyes—an action he does too much of these days.
The sun sets. His stomach screams. The sun rises. He never sleeps. The sun sets. He continuously weeps.
When Cass’s body finally gives up from exhaustion and snatches him straight into a world of darkness, he dreams of drowning in a dark and dreary sea.