To Drakke’s great irritation, Saive was leisurely lagging behind on their walk to campus, kicking rocks and whistling to himself, like he didn’t have a fucking care in the world. Roenan could see Drakke barely hanging on to the last thread of patience that he had.

“He wants us to be late so I get punished, since I’m the escort,” Drakke muttered, voice thick with annoyance. He tilted his head toward the sun and closed his eyes.

It was bitterly cold, but Roenan wasn't complaining. It was the first time he'd had fresh air in so long, it felt too good to be true. He’d lost track of time in the hospital, and hadn’t known what to expect. The sun was out, but the air was sharp and dry - it felt foreign. Their breath clouded around them as they walked. Winter in Vernajjan was harsh and snow blanketed the ground. It looked like it had been days since the last snowfall—compact, icy, and pushed aside in lumpy, dirty piles along the cleared paths.

Drakke had lent Roenan his nice navy-colored University coat that he had hung on a rack near the main entrance to the medical building. It was long, down to Roenan’s mid-thigh, with eight tan buttons lined like a military coat. The camp’s ubiquitous emblem was stitched over the left breast, and the hood was rimmed with mixed-brown fur.

When Drakke had first offered it, Roenan asked if Saive should take it instead. Saive declined with a scoff—he didn’t want to “be caught dead endorsing that ridiculous emblem.” Drakke had muttered a curse under his breath before placing the coat into Roenan’s arms.

Now, out in the open, Roenan felt more like himself again. He leaned his head back, too, and let the sun warm his face. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the simple feeling of being outdoors.

After a moment, Roenan looked down and asked, “Do you want me to try talking to him?”

Drakke kept his face tilted toward the light, but opened his eyes when Roenan finished speaking.

“I’d prefer you didn’t, actually.” He leaned down toward Roenan’s ear, voice low. “I know you’re trying to look out for the guy and everything, but don’t get too caught up in trying to do that. He’s not worth the punishment you’d recieve for his backlashing and overall childish behavior.”

Roenan snorted, but didn’t make any promises. “Everyone deals with these things in their own way, Drakke.”

They walked in silence. Roenan felt Drakke’s hand brush his. His mouth twitched in a faint smile, and he looked away.

“Hey, give it to me straight. How long will I be in boot camp for?” Roenan asked quietly.

Drakke side-glanced him. “Hard to say. It’s never consistent.” He paused. “Not like it matters. The time there will somehow feel like both the slowest and fastest days of your life.”

Roenan’s stomach sank and he nodded. He had a feeling it would be a while before he saw Drakke again.

“And, it sort of depends on how you do. Some people stay longer until they pass. Others continue on to the University quickly.”

Roenan was quiet as he thought. Finally he asked, "What's the shortest time it could take?"

Drakke hummed in thought. “If you really focus and can master everything quickly—the psych, physical, and linguistic—it can be done in six months.”

Roenan nodded firmly. “Then, half a year it is.”

Drakke’s crooked smile reappeared, his dimple showing. “Yeah? That a promise, Roe?”

“It’s a promise,” Roenan said with a matching smile.

Saive cleared his throat behind them. “Hate to interrupt the cute banter, but I really need to sit.”

Roenan felt the remainder of Drakke’s patience snap. His body tensed next to him, and he was beginning to twist around to face Saive, but Roenan caught his upper arm.

“Are you okay?” Roenan asked Saive calmly, squeezing Drakke’s arm tighter when he tried to move.

“No.” Saive looked paler than this morning. He crouched down, balancing on his toes, and propping himself on the tips of his fingers, with his other hand covering his face. "How much longer?" He asked, voice low and muffled.

“Three minutes,” Drakke attempted to answer patiently, even though it was through clenched teeth.

“Fuck.” Saive breathed. “Just carve my headstone now.” Roenan caught a glimpse of Saive’s expression, though it was partially hidden by his hand. A humorless smile had spread on his face. "Oh, but… you guys don't do the headstone thing here, right? Just mass graves. Is that cultural, or-?"

Before Roenan could comprehend what was happening, Drakke was tackling Saive to the damp, dirt trail. They were skidding away with their boots and their limbs leaving trails in the mud. Saive was yelling desperately as Drakke swiftly popped up on top of him, pulling his fist back. 

Roenan moved without thinking and dove into Drakke, tackling him to the side. Their bodies hit the ground with a thud and they both grunted. Drakke used the same move he had on Saive and popped up on Roenan. His eyes were crazed dark with adrenaline, but they changed when he realized that it was Roenan underneath him. He turned his head back into the direction of Saive and quickly started to get up to move toward him, but Roenan grabbed at his collar to stop him from going. Drakke pushed hard off of him, but Roenan gripped his collar harder and jerked him violently downward. 

“Drakke!” Roenan shouted, breathless, his voice raw. “Snap out of it!” he continued harshly, through gritted teeth.

Drakke stared down at him, chest heaving, his pupils thickly dialated in rage.

“Let go,” he demanded darkly. 

He shoved himself away, breaking Roenan’s grip, and turned his back to them. “Get him up,” he commanded, without looking.

Roenan glanced toward Saive and gasped. He was sprawled in the mud, one side of his sweats soaked and filthy. His silver eyes stared blankly at the cloud-spotted sky, catching the light in a way that made them look ghostly.

“Look what you’ve done!” Roenan snapped.

“I didn’t know that would happen,” Drakke bit back, pulling out a cigarette. “Fix him. He says you’re the only one who has been able to do it.”

He paced off, lighting the cigarette with shaky fingers.

"Since when did you ever bother to talk to him." Roenan muttered in annoyance. 

He rolled onto his hands and knees, crawling the small distance between himself and Saive to look down into his face. He knew that if he touched him now, Saive would probably snap out of it in an attack mode, and he was pretty sure Drakke would beat the life out of Saive if that happened.

“Saive?” he whispered, low enough that Drakke wouldn’t hear. “Hey, I need you to come back here. We're in this thing together, remember? Don't leave me alone with all of this... not before this boot camp shit."

Saive's state didn't seem to change at all. Off somewhere to the side, Drakke sighed impatiently and cursed.

Roenan swallowed hard, thinking about what he should do. 

He lifted his hand, letting it hover uncertainly near Saive's face. "Come on, come back here." He slowly reached down and gently brushed some of Saive’s mud-matted, overgrown dark hair from his face.

"Saive." He whispered.

Saive’s hand shot up and clamped around Roenan’s wrist. His eyes sharpened—life returning behind the glassy stare. He yanked Roenan’s hand away and sat up, wincing in pain.

“Easy,” Roenan warned, not trying to help.

“We’re late,” Drakke's voice broke.

Silence followed. Then, Drakke turned and approached Saive with deliberate, menacing calm.

“You know what you’ve fucking done! I hope you're satisfied...” he stared down at Saive, with a wildness still in his eyes. Roenan was already in front of him, hands braced against his chest, holding him back.

“You have got to stop this.” Roenan pleaded. “What's gotten into you?!”

Drakke was staring down at Saive with an expression Roenan couldn't identify. His eyes rimmed red, brows drawn. Saive looked back at him, stoically.

Drakke spat something in Vernajjian and turned away, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips.

Roenan had no idea what was going on, but he knew that arguing with Drakke right now would probably get someone killed. He turned to Saive.

“Please, Saive. We’ve got to go.”

Saive looked at him.

“Please, I’m begging you. Let’s just get this over with.”

He took a deep breath and pulled himself up. He stretched his neck and silently moved to Roenan’s side without bothering to brush off the mud.

Roenan felt light a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He hadn't expected Saive to listen so quickly.

Behind them, the ground crunched under Drakke’s boots as he began walking ahead.

"Thanks," Roenan whispered, brushing his muddy hands down his helplessly ruined clothes.

Saive gave him a sidelong glance. “Do I actually have to cut your hands off to make you stop touching me?”

Roenan caught the ghost of a smirk on his face before Saive brushed past him to start walking again.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and he turned, falling into step beside him. They kept up the pace while Drakke walked ahead in silence, cigarette smoke trailing behind him, all the way to the front steps of the University.