The signal goes dead and for a moment Zye does think about walking away. He’s not sure being around Shae is the best idea. He just wants to vanish and curl into a hole. But that’d mean Shae and Callua would be hunting him down. That’s not worth it either. Doing nothing is just as good.

Zye ambles over to the door, moves a few feet down the wall, and sits. He draws his knees up and grabs onto them. Each breath is shaky as it enters and leaves. Eyes refuse to close for long save for blinking. He stares out over the parking lot with little care. There’s no focus. At best, he’s trying not to think about anything.

Except time moves at a snail’s pace like that. It feels like eons have passed by the time Shae is pulling up in his dented-up truck. He doesn’t bother parking it correctly since he’s the last in the lane next to Zye’s bike. Instead, he’s more worried about getting out, grabbing a backpack, and running over to Zye.

He doesn’t do anything but squat down, leveling his eyes with Zye’s. “What happened?”

The serious tone is so rare. It commands Zye to answer. “Mom died this morning.”

Shae doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t do much either considering Zye’s dislike for prying eyes. This is why he stands and extends a hand, helping Zye up to his feet. He makes Zye go in first so that he can follow behind— best to be safe when his friend looks like he’s been hit by a train.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes them to get to the apartment much less inside. He’s just glad to have Zye on the couch. The second he is, Shae sets the backpack down on the ground. “Anything you need me to get from your bike?”

“Meds.”

“Key?”

Zye fishes it out of his pocket and tosses it to Shae. The blond is a blur of motion leaving and returning before Zye can even process a bit of it. The bag is left on the kitchen counter with the key while Shae returns to Zye with two glasses. He collapses onto the couch next to him and pulls out a bottle from the backpack.

The glass clinks onto the tabletop. “Supervised, you can have some. But nothing more than we usually would, got it?”

Shae looks over at Zye and isn’t surprised not to get an answer. He pours them both a glass of clear liquid. Zye wants to ask what it is or where Shae got it from. Surely from his stash of more expensive liquors. Not that he cares right now.

Instead, he takes the offered glass and begins to sip at it. Once he’s gotten some of it in him is when Shae begins to try to open him up. “Is there anything you need to do?”

“No. Doctor has it covered.”

“I can make you anything you want to eat if you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m fine.”

Silence settles in and it has Shae shifting nervously. He downs the rest of his glass, knowing full well he shouldn’t. “I’m really sorry, Zye. I’m here no matter what you need, you just say the word. Hell, don’t say anything I’ll do it anyway.”

Zye stares into the liquid. He wishes it would give him answers or at least get him tipsy. Shae is too much of a lightweight to keep up with him. Not while all he wants is to sleep and he knows he can’t.

“I don’t have a lot in the fridge right now.”

“Then we’ll order out. I know the best place. Good food and for a damn good price, too!”

While Shae takes his phone out and begins to order, Zye tosses his onto the table. He doesn’t want to touch it any more than he has to. Leaning back against the cushions, he stares up at the ceiling. The tears try to well back up despite the effort to blink them away.

“Shae?”

A hum reaches his ears. Shae finishes paying for the order before pouring a bit more into their glasses.

“Thanks.”

Shae sits back as well. Shoulder-to-shoulder, Shae gives him a little more of a bump to his. He doesn’t want to push the contact, but he does want to initiate the fact that it’s okay. Shae knows how badly this must hurt to have Zye actually respond in kind. He sinks a little further down so that his head can lull over, resting up against Shae’s.

“It’ll be okay.”

Zye lets those words wrap around his vibrating thoughts. Lets the nonsense calm him down no matter how much he knows it’s a lie. It won’t be alright. Nothing will be. Lyra is dead and he’ll be following in her footsteps. But for right now— sure— it’ll be okay.

It doesn’t feel like he’s slept. Physically he feels alright. Mentally he wants to tug the blanket back up over his head.

Zye isn’t entirely sure how he even got to bed or when. He recalls drinking and eating enough while they watched something he won’t ever recall. Shae passed out at one point although he must have gotten back up. He’s not sure when he, himself, did. It’s more impressive that Shae managed to carry him back here.

Or did he?

His head hurts as he rolls onto his side, staring at the slightly ajar door. He can hear voices if he focuses hard enough. They’re trying to be quiet, but he knows they’re there. It’s calming in its own way. To the point where he lies there not bothering to get up yet.

Out in the kitchen, Shae is exasperated. He rubs the back of his neck. “I really don’t even want to leave. I can probably get someone to cover my shift, but I need to tell Boss what’s happened. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Callua leans against the sink. “My plans can be changed easier than yours. Go. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Shae sighs heavily. “I appreciate it. Glad you came by, really. I don’t know what I would have done. I can’t just leave him alone.”

“I understand. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. And don’t hesitate if you need to contact me either.”

“Thanks again.” Shae yawns, stretches, and makes for the door. “It was nice meeting you, too. There’s plenty of leftovers if you want to have at it.”

She nods and waits for the door to shut. Once it does, she shakes her head. A mess is before her. It’s always something happening somewhere. Not a single day where she’s not worried about one thing or another. This is why she’s almost grateful to have a tangible mess to clean up. Between the dishes and the trash across the table, she’s happy to have something to stay busy with.

Not that it takes her very long at all. Callua does try to be as quiet about it as one can be. Regardless, she has the apartment picked back up as if the two men hadn’t made the living area into a pigsty the night before. The amount of time that has passed earns her curiosity.

Zye isn’t up and moving yet.

Callua scoops up the bag of medicine and retrieves the unopened bottle. A quick read proves he needs this now whether he’s up or not. No matter what’s happened, he still has to take care of himself. A good excuse to check in on him, too.

With a glass of water in one hand and the pill bottle in the other, Callua makes for his room. She nudges the door open further only to have her eyes lock with his. “Hey. Morning.” She stops at the bed’s edge. “Been up long?”

He glances away and sits up when he sees what she’s carrying. Wordlessly, he takes them both from her one at a time. Bottle opened, pill out, glass in hand, and then finally downing it. Callua takes them back to sit next to the lamp she flicks on. Her knees bump up against the bed as she reaches out, one hand brushing through his bedhead.

“I’m so sorry about Lyra.”

Zye leans forward, allowing her to guide him to have his forehead against her. Arms are limp at his side. He can’t muster the energy to move them yet. Much less fathom how kind she is to not pull away. To stay there and pet his hair, urging the feelings to come out and be dealt with.

“It’s okay, to not be okay.”

Something clicks. The words unleash the dam. They break it down and let all the feelings rush out. He tugs himself toward her in one fluid motion. His cheek presses to her side and buries against his arm as they wrap around her waist, holding onto her for dear life. It’s the best he can do to muffle the wail that leaves him.

The sound has goosebumps rising— a stab reaching deep into her gut— tears prickling at the corners of her own eyes.

The agony is a volcano in the pit of his being. It’s erupting and forcing the noise and the tears up and out. There’s no stopping them as the pain overflows from him. All the while she’s coaxing it out and simply standing there.

She doesn’t say a word. No petty statements or empty phrases. She’s simply there with one hand on the back of his head and the other rubbing at his shoulder. There’s no tug to pull away or even regret in engaging to begin with.

Callua simply stares down at him, watching as he fractures into a million pieces. Pieces she wishes she could pick up and put back together for him. Instead, she does the best she can. Her eyes close as she dismisses all of the thoughts from her mind as well as all of the worry and fear for him.

Life is too difficult sometimes.

Too fragile.

And far too much at one time.

It urges her own emotions to try and surface, but she shoves them down. This isn’t about her and her pains. It’s about her dear friend. It’s one of the few reasons that she stands there no matter how long it takes for him to calm down. Or how many tears he has to shed.

Callua knows the second that he’s worn himself out and has had enough. His arms slack and his face begins to pull away. She lets him take his time for the most part. Once he’s sitting back up, she tussles his tangled hair.

“How about you go get a shower? Take as long as you need. I’ll get you a little something to eat in the meantime.”

The nod she gets hurts more than seeing red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Not having him be talkative is the hardest thing. She can only imagine how exhausted he is. Callua takes his arm as he goes to stand up, giving him a bit of help before he walks away. She lets him leave first and shut the bathroom door before she moves.

There’s a thought entering her mind. One she groans at and knows she can’t ignore any longer. The second she decides to handle it, there’s a knock on the door. For a moment she thinks it’s him— not that she’d ever take him to be that bold. Not when he has no place to, that’s not how he does things.

Callua hurries over and opens it to see Xerxes. A wave of relief washes over her. “You’re just who I wanted to see!” She grabs at his wrist and tugs him inside past her. “Okay, I’ll be right back. It won’t take me but a second.”

“Is something wrong?”

She bobs her head a little as if trying to find the right way to say it. “Zye is in the shower, I just need you to keep an ear out in case he gets out before I get back. His mom passed away yesterday and I could use your help to keep his mind somewhere else. Alright?”

Xerxes nods. “O-okay.”

“Good boy,” she says with a pat on his head. “Now if he does just tell him I stepped out for a second. I haven’t left alright?”

Another nod from him and she allows herself to slip out. The door shuts before she’s speed-walking toward the stairwell. The slight heels of her slip-ons click and clack on the stairs in hurried succession. Halfway down she stops. There stands Jace in all of his stoic glory, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed.

He turns his head, dark brown hair shifting against his cheeks as he does. The gray cloak covers most of him as he stands there. The large metal clasp keeping it together over his shoulders shifts when he uncrosses his arms, sliding further down past his collarbone. The fact that he’s not trying to appear in more normal attire tells her he’s not sticking around. That there has to be something happening.

She slows to a stop. It’s unusual to see him without his hair up at that, meaning he must have just come from home. “I’m not doing anything today. I have something to take care of.”

“The human?”

“He’s my friend.”

“Right, sorry.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “And what if I said I need you for this mission?”

“I’d say you’re out of luck.”

Jace pushes away from the banister. One hand clasps onto it, fingerless gloves cinching at the wrist as he does. The other hand gestures outward. “You’d let one human tip our plans?”

Callua huffs. “We both know you’re stronger than me. All I do is heal your dumb ass when you’re hit. Which wouldn’t happen if you’d slow down.” She shakes her head. “This can’t be why you came all the way here. What’s really going on, Jace?”

His eyes cut to the side. Weight shifts from one black boot to the other. Suddenly he’s reaching up to fuss with tying the yellow cloth around his forehead, pushing most of his hair up and out of his face. She watches carefully, knowing full well whatever is going on is enough to make him anxious.

“Things are moving already. Be careful about where you go and who you deal with. They know that Charm is watching, trying to get attention to this. I don’t want you caught up in it.”

“It’s fine. I’m not stupid enough to put myself in that position.”

“There’s been others, too. Even Orion has been sighted.”

“The lord coming down from his castle? That’s a surprise.”

Jace shoots her a glare. “This isn’t a joke. Be careful. I can’t get you out of trouble if it means showing my hand.”

Callua spins around, intending to leave. She takes two steps back up before stopping. She knows it’s a lie. He would, he can’t help it. “You shouldn’t worry so much. Why not go relax for five minutes before you lose it?”

Their eyes meet. Orange and silver; like oil and water. His lips draw out into a thin line. He’s done with the conversation and caring. For a moment even she isn’t sure what it is. Is he angry at her for slacking off and putting other things first? Frustrated that things aren’t going his way? Or perhaps jealous that she has an escape from the reality of their situation…?

“Have fun with your friends then.”

She sticks out her tongue at him. “I will.”