The next day Zye spends most of his time in bed or lounging around. It’s only the night following that, that he makes it outside. The small walk to the convenience store and back gives him fresh air and enough social interaction to be satisfied. That and some snacks. It beats laying around replying to messages. Especially when Shae has been more and more talkative.

Unfortunately, it means he goes through the front doors to the complex. Even worse is that the owner, Mr. J, is at the desk sorting through paperwork. The elderly man has short, wisps of white hair beneath a baseball cap. Green eyes look up as he goes to walk by.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Working late tonight?”

Mr. J waves him over. He begins to shuffle through the papers in front of him. “Guess you could say that. How you been feeling?”

Zye does stop by the desk. He can’t say no to Mr. J, not after all he’s done for his mom. Although, he does wish he didn’t have to right now. His head is killing him and he’d love nothing more than to lay back down. The bag of snacks he carries makes it worthwhile.

“Same as usual. I’ll drop by in the morning to pay if that’s okay. That last paycheck took longer to clear.”

The old man scoffs. “I’m not worried ‘bout ya. Your word has always been fine. However…” He finally seems to find the envelope he’s been looking for. “Ya still friendly with Miss Amun?”

“Same floor, see her around now and then.”

Zye eyes it as Mr. J extends it to him. He can only wonder what Aisa has managed to do this time. He knows she’ll manage and provide for Xerxes. He just wishes she’d ask for help if she really needs it.

“Good, give this to her for me. I don’t wanna have to walk up there and I think she’s been avoiding me.”

“I don’t mind. Is everything okay?”

Relinquishing the letter, Mr. J gives Zye another scoff with his reply. “You know I don’t talk about tenants like that.”

A laugh trills off of Zye’s lips as he steps away from the counter. “But gossiping about me is okay, huh?”

This has Mr. J chuckling and leaning forward with a grin. “Not my fault you’re the talk of the building. Now scurry on before I find something to gossip about with the old ladies.”

Zye waves back at him on his way to the stairs. “Hah, have fun. I bet you’re still a big hit with ‘em!”

“No one likes a smartass!”

Shaking his head, Zye bounds up the stairs with renewed vigor as well as worry. The envelope feels so heavy in his hand compared to his phone and bag in the other. Of which, it lights up and lets out a jingle. He opens it up and swipes out a quick reply to Shae.

Monday. There are better prospects come tomorrow. He just hopes he can go back.

The apartment at the end of his floor is the one where Xerxes dislikes being. Not that he can blame the kid. Going home alone isn’t always the best feeling. Especially when he’s still a kid. He stops just in front of the door and gives a couple of raps of his knuckles against it.

A few seconds pass before it swings wide open. Xerxes is clearly surprised to see Zye here this late. Not that he’ll complain. He bounces on his heels ever-so-slightly. “Come in.”

Against his better judgment, Zye enters the apartment. He should just hand Xerxes the letter and go home. He knows the kid won’t look at it but part of him doesn’t want to be alone tonight either.

“Up for some late-night games?”

Xerxes’s eyes might as well sparkle at the question. He nods and leads Zye back to his room. He makes quick work of the computer on his bed and any books he had open are stacked onto his desk. The television flickers to life as Xerxes starts to get things ready.

Zye pulls the desk chair over to sit in. The letter slips into the bag with candy being pulled out. He watches, patiently, as Xerxes works. It lets him take a brief look around the room. He hasn’t been in here in a while but even then not much has changed.

It’s still plain with gray walls and a faux wooden floor. There are no posters or anything that screams personality. Everything is kept clean and orderly. It makes him wish he was that good at keeping up with ‘chores’.

Xerxes hands him a controller and in return, he’s given a candy bar. Zye opens his, bites off a chunk, and leans back in the chair. The game starts up but the noise doesn’t capture Zye’s attention. He’s busy trying not to think about the throbbing in his head.

“Did you get your studying done?”

“Uh-huh. I figured it out, too.”

“Knew you could do it.”

Zye replies while the clicking and clacking of buttons fill the air. The banter dies away as talk of the stage they’re on picks up. The little old-style, side-scrolling game has their full attention for the next couple of hours.

Eventually, Zye moves to the bed beside Xerxes. They lean back against the wall as they finish off a bag of candy. One particular instance has Xerxes unable to continue and Zye has to complete the level on his own. He doesn’t even realize that Xerxes has begun to slump up against him until he’s beaten it.

“Hell yeah, we did…Heh, guess he was tired.”

He glances over to Xerxes’s desk. The projected numbers on the wall read a quarter after ten. It means he doesn’t have long before Aisa gets home. Considering the headache has only slightly dulled, he’s not up to dealing with her tonight. Better to just leave the letter where she’ll find it and slip out.

So he begins to do just that.

It takes longer than expected to move out from under Xerxes and the arm that had fallen around him. Once he’s lifted Xerxes up and under the blankets, he begins to save and turn the game off. Just before he leaves he thinks about grabbing the bag. It’s that hesitation that has him glancing back over at Xerxes. He grabs the letter and leaves the bag for Xerxes.

The peaceful look on his face has Zye smiling. He can’t believe it’s already been five years. It sends his world spinning only to come to a complete stop. After all, Xerxes hasn’t changed at all. He’s still the kind soul with the soft-spoken voice that declared Zye to have the coolest eyes he’s seen. Pretty and just like the little marble he used to carry.

He’s never been happier to help someone out knowing he got to be friends with Xerxes. Silver linings, he knows he just has to find them. Look hard enough and one will be right there at his feet.

Zye reaches out, brushing hair away from Xerxes’s face. “Silly brat…”

Pulling the door shut, Zye begins his stealthy escape. Or so is the plan. He’s only just made it to the kitchen when he hears the door open. Fingers tense up around the letter— everything tenses up. There’s no getting out of this now.

The door thuds shut.

Heels click over the floor just before an abrupt stop.

Zye turns and catches sight of her surprised but irritated expression. Her lips draw out into a thin line. “What are you doing here? You better not be keeping him from his homework.”

“We both know I’m the one that’s been helping with that.”

She huffs and strides past him. Her purse lands on the counter before she opens the fridge, yanking out a bottle of juice. “Then why are you here? Charity work again?” He’s about to just leave— it’s not worth stirring the pot— when she continues. “You know what? Never mind, I don’t have the energy for this tonight.”

Anger is easy to push down for him. He’s done it his whole life otherwise he’d have been in far more fights than he already was. It’s this uncomfortable feeling that she gives him lately that has him…irritated.

He’s done nothing but try to help them both when he can. She was grateful and said thank you in the beginning. Not that he wanted it, he didn’t care about that. Just wanted to make sure they didn’t have to suffer as he has. It’s hard to be on your own, this he knows better than most.

There’s no privilege. No justification for why or how. Just shit luck with the cards that have been dealt.

Maybe that’s why he can’t help it.

“You didn’t use to mind the charity.”

Brown eyes narrow at him. She sets her juice down and has to busy her hands. They delve up immediately to loosen the tie around her periwinkle hair. The strands fall to her shoulders as she tosses the ribbon onto the counter.

“I appreciate you helping me out. I know I wouldn’t have gotten the apartment if you hadn’t and I told you I’d pay you back for everything you’ve done.”

“And I told you I don’t want you to. It wasn’t a loan, it was a gift.” He holds out the letter and hopes that his hands aren’t trembling when he does. “Mr. J said to give it to you. Is everything okay?”

“Stop. Just stop.” She steps around the counter, moving toward him. “I don’t want your pity or your friendship. I don’t want you around anymore period!”

Her voice, growing louder, has Zye freezing up. The only thing he can do is stare back at her. It’s not like any other confrontation he’s had. People either vanish from his life or try to beat the life out of him. No one has ever formed words out of fear and hate and thrown them back at him.

“You’re giving us something I— we can’t return! There’s a reason no one wants to talk to you and whispers behind your back instead.”

It’s when the anger boils up too far that he can’t help himself. He knows no one should ever say anything out of anger. He tries so hard to hold the curt and mean remarks back. To maybe let her see a little deeper into him. That he’s not just a Chroma.

“I’m just trying to help. I know what—”

“Shut up! I know— I know you know. But I don’t care.” She’s stomping over toward him, gesturing widely back toward Xerxes’s room. “I can handle this. What I can’t handle is that I ever let Xerxes get close to you.”

Zye backs up, continues to until his back is nearing the door. There’s panic welling up in his veins. He wants to run from the situation, doesn’t want to be in it anymore. But she’s still there. Her voice is loud. The emotion is thick in her tone. And it’s making his ears ring and has his heart thudding hard in his chest.

“What am I supposed to do when you’re gone, huh?! Xerxes can’t handle losing anyone else. You know our parents are gone. Our family doesn’t want us. Hasn’t he suffered enough? Why couldn’t you just leave us alone, spare Xerxes the pain?”

The letter drifts down to the floor. Zye reaches back for the handle, trying to open it without looking. “Fine then.”

The tone falls flat. He tries so hard to strip the emotion from it. He doesn’t want her to know just how badly it hurts. Everyone says what they want to people like him anyway.

“But you might want to change your tune before you follow right behind me. Everyone dies eventually. The fuck does it matter how or when anymore?”

Aisa is left staring at the door as he shuts it. Oh does he wish he could slam it, too. Instead, he lets it close with a gentle, petite click of the mechanisms settling in. Once they have and his hand is off the handle, he’s practically sprinting down the hall.

It doesn’t matter to him that his worn-out sneakers slap loudly against the linoleum. He doesn’t care that the jostle of keys ends up with him nearly slamming the door behind him.

All he knows is he’s finally back in his home. A place that’s safe from her but not from the emotions pooling out around him.

Keys hit the ground. His back leans against the door as he slowly slides down it. Knees draw up to his chest and he immediately wraps his arms around them. Shaking fingers claw up through his bangs and into his hair. He grips onto them like a lifeline.

He hates it. Hates that he reacted. Hates that he tried. Hates everything.

And that includes the sob he chokes back as the tears begin to gather.

“Goddammit.”