Dawnpoint

Chapter 21

Once again awakened by the sound of shuffling, Micah slipped from his bed and into the corridor as quietly as his boots would let him. Further ahead, he spotted Oryn heading toward the only entrance to their temporary home and snuck back into the room to get his knife stored under the mattress.

Phoenix and Liliana stirred slightly, and he felt bad for leaving them so vulnerable as he followed Oryn out into the open, keeping his distance. Oryn walked slowly, but he still paused to listen for danger as he covered a certain distance each time. Micah almost laughed at how stupid he must have looked, trying to remain hidden whilst stood in plain sight with no cover.

He caught glimpses of the other world as they walked and realised that they were heading toward the town after weaving through the ruins of Choi Mansion. He frowned, trying to decipher their destination, and glanced back. He couldn't shake the guilt as his mind obsessed with scenarios of Phoenix and Liliana peacefully sleeping as Rulies circled in and ravished them. But he couldn't turn back if he tried, for many reasons.

Oryn's hair bounced, footfalls silent as he stalked through the town, searching. Recognising the small memorial for the lost children, Micah sighed quietly as he followed Oryn down the route Mrs. Carter had taken him when they first met. Less than a few metres later, Oryn stood in front of his home, staring up at it with his hands at his side. Micah stayed behind as he watched him simply stare and make no move to enter or leave.

"I've never visited."

Micah cleared his throat and stepped to his side, obvious regret and feelings of stupidity eating away at him. But Oryn didn't pay attention to any of it: he simply continued staring.

"Even when I found out we could see the real world something," Oryn said. "Especially when you started messing with it...I never came here."

Micah remained silent.

"Do you think I'll see them?" he eventually whispered; he parted his lips as he took in every detail of the house.

"I don't know." Micah shrugged, eyeing the once bright yellow plaque. "Maybe."

With a sudden inhale, Oryn opened the front door and stepped inside, exhaling slowly as he looked around and tried to recognise the family portraits hung on the wall. He examined the wedding photograph in the centre of the hallway, glancing over his mother and father's features. Micah watched closely as he moved from one image to the next, trailing his fingers along the walls as he passed through to the living room.

The layout hadn't changed since Micah's last visit, even down to the smallest of details. He walked over to the side table by the chair and gestured Oryn over, showing him his mother's dearest possession.

"It's your baby book," he said as Oryn reached out the touch the engraved name on the cover. "Your mother showed me every picture and told me stories from when you were little."

Oryn frowned as he tried to open it, but his fingers passed through it without disturbing it. Micah looked over to the fireplace, willing himself to see the colourful hand-made decorations and artwork displayed, which made no difference in the depressing colour-scale of the world. He followed Oryn to the kitchen and waited by the door as he found one of his old drawings pinned to the fridge, paper stained and slightly crumpled from when he had excitedly shown it to his mother.

Micah closed his eyes, remembering his last conversation with her: how he'd promised to let her know once he found Oryn and to bring him home to her. She was a frail woman, still living in the moments she lost her son, yet so strong that Micah admired her.

"I still feel him."

Oryn snapped his head toward him, and he stood straighter, immediately recognising the voice. He whispered an 'it's okay' to Oryn as he scurried to the door and peered into the living room where his parents lowered themselves onto the sofa. Micah heard him swallow and his breathing shallow as they both watched them.

Mr. Carter was frowning, gently rubbing his hand on his wife's arm as she pulled open the photo album and laid it in her lap. Oryn stiffened beside him, so he gently nudged him.

"Go look," he offered but Oryn shook his head, unmoving.

His throat constricted at the sight of his parents, heart rapidly beating and fingers tapping against each other. He stayed silent as he listened to his mother talk about how sweet he was, how lovable and kind, and how much she wished she could see him again. Micah took a step back to allow more room for Oryn to move if he wished to.

"Honey, there's no reason to believe he's alive," Mr. Carter said gently, trying his best to bring her out of her delusions.

She shook her head harshly and clutched her blouse at her chest. "He's out there, Nick. I know it. I feel it. He's coming home."

Mr. Carter pulled her into his side, resting his head on top of hers and shushing her gently. She closed her eyes and began to cry, sobbing about how much she missed him and wanted to give him a happy life that he deserved.

Trying again, Micah prompted Oryn to go to them. He was unsure of what to do as they watched her cry and try to convince her husband that their son was alive when he comforted her. He had never been one for emotional conversations, opting out of discussing his parents' deaths with anyone – to this day only ever saying one sentence about their passing. He couldn't imagine how painful it would be to lose a child, much less still have hope seventeen years later that there were alive and well, trying to find a way home. In this case, Oryn was alive. Micah was trying to bring him home. But he wasn't their sweet, carefree son anymore.

He stepped back toward Oryn and slipped his hand in his, squeezing tightly when he realised that he was on the verge of tears.

When Mrs. Carter's crying finally quietened, Oryn's father sighed. "Let's go to bed, honey. It's late."

She gave a weak nod and allowed him to help her up, walking up the stairs together. Oryn didn't follow them. Didn't move. Micah tilted his head down slightly and started asking a question when he was cut off before he could get the second word out by Oryn turning into him and clutching his shirt, letting his tears fall freely.

"I recognise them," he managed to get out without breaking into sobs, gritting his teeth, and buried his head deeper into Micah's chest as tears tracked down his face.

Micah paused before slowly hugging him, patting his hair as he tried to console him. "You're okay. I'm here."

He didn't relax into the embrace as Oryn just cried harder, not even trying to say anything else. But nothing needed to be said. Micah knew exactly how he felt. And after dealing with that alone, he was glad he had followed Oryn – even if that meant leaving the others. Because there was nothing were than having to pick yourself up and piece yourself back together without anyone knowing.

When they eventually left, Oryn's childhood home slowly veiled over, and colour returned to the parchment his mother made and the cracked window frames. The colour followed them, patches of grass and daffodils growing in their footprints until they reached the mansion.

Hoping, that – maybe – they would turn around and notice them.