More Than Words

The Archer

Jim wouldn't say it.

Claire wouldn't fight it.

Toby wouldn't believe it.

Douxie and Archie could only quietly watch it, standing in helpless confusion.

You were pulling away. When they entered your shop, you made little conversation with them; when Douxie and Archie visited you in your apartment, you were friendly but distant. Questions were shot down, confrontations narrowly dodged, all in a desperate attempt at severing the connections you'd carefully cultivated with the people you cared about the most. Eli had bonded with Steve, both visiting you less as more friendships were created, and though it ached, it brought a bittersweet smile to see them both growing together. Claire and Toby... they were struggling with this, you could see it in their eyes when they walked in and tried to talk to you, Claire getting increasingly agitated with you every time she walked through the doors.

And Jim...

It killed you bit by bit everyday to see his face every time he walked up to the shop, clearly intending to go inside, before turning away at the last second, not wanting to face the wall you were building up between the two of you. Digging your heart out with the blunt end up a spoon would be less painful then having to watch that kid walk away, your head hitting the counter as you held back tears every time you saw the sight. Your customers were noticing your change in demeanor as well; your late night customers had stopped coming entirely, knowing that whatever you had to offer as support would be hollow and cold, no warmth left within you as you cut out the very things in life that brought you joy.

No book, cd, record, or painting could ever counter the immense grief in your chest that intensified every moment you tore yourself away from those kids.

Douxie... Douxie just seemed confused by your actions. He had never seen someone pour so much love out into the world, not even in his 900+ years of being alive, and yet you tore yourself away from the love and care you received in return, like every kind word burned into you like a brand, every gentle touch the lash of a whip against your already scarred skin. He couldn't understand how even after promising to stay by your side, to take care of you while you suffered, to hold you up while you were crumbling to pieces, you still pushed him away, like you truly believed he would one day leave your side. Had you really lost so many to believe that no one would stick around? 

He... he could admit he hadn't lost like you had lost. While his love for humanity was pure and true, he had tried to stay reserved and true to his duty throughout the years, while you... he didn't know all the details, and probably never would. But he'd seen your paintings, had practically memorized every brush stroke, and he even had copies of some of the older pictures you had, where you stood posed with strangers, all with big smiles on their faces. He loved humanity from a distance, but you, you put yourself front and center, forcing your kindness unto the world until you caused change, until you found a way to help, until you taught the people around you how to feel vulnerable and safe all at once. And then you'd find a new town, force yourself into the way of life, and repeat the process all over again. But by forcing yourself into the middle of it all, you had lost more than just a few people in the process. His shoulders sank as he wondered just how may funerals you'd attended over the years, standing over the person you'd once held in your arms as they now peacefully rested under the ground. 

But he wasn't going to leave! He had promised not only you, but himself, that after that night where he saw you in the hospital and had talked to Dr. Lake that he would never leave you alone to deal with the pain of grief ever again. He didn't care how difficult that could end up being- he was going to do it if it killed him. What had he ever done to make you believe he would leave you?