Unfixable

The Box

Chloe had joined them sometime later. She'd settled in behind Nines, all three of them sniffling and sobbing in a pile of misery. None of them knew how long it had been, but the sun had gone down hours ago when they finally moved to sit. Nines held the box on his crossed legs, but he didn't want to open it. Chloe and Gavin didn't ask him to. They remained silent. Gavin propped himself against the low coffee table with his legs outstretched. Nines sat cross-legged against the chair he'd fallen out of, and Chloe sat beside them with her legs curled at her side, resting her weight on one hand as she rubbed her swollen stomach.

Understandably, Nines didn't feel up to dinner. Chloe eventually coaxed them both into going to their room and had the kitchen prepare them a light dinner to send up. Clearly, the staff knew. News travelled fast, especially in the lower levels. The maid who delivered their meal was respectful and meek as she set the tray on the dresser and apologised for Nines' loss with a bow of her head. Gavin quietly thanked her, and she left, shutting the door with a quiet click.

"Think you can eat something?" Gavin asked softly as he propped himself up on his elbow and stroked Nines' tousled hair. He shook his head, silvery eyes dim as he remained on his side with his left hand resting on the pillow beside him. "Not even a little?" He hated it when Gavin gave him the hopeful voice. He glanced up, almost resentful of the soft sympathy in his soft green eyes. Something of it must have shown through as Gavin's eyes dropped with hurt.

"A little..." Nines relented, feeling bad for the hurt he'd caused. He knew Gavin was only trying to help. It was exactly the sort of coaxing he used to try back when Gavin was in early recovery. He sniffled quietly as he pushed himself up. Gavin raised the pillows for him, helping him lean back and settle against them. He shuffled his way to the edge of the bed and took one of the bowls from the tray. It was a light chicken and vegetable broth. They must have known they wouldn't have much appetite. Nines accepted it and played with the spoon for a while, stirring idly.

"You want some bread?" Gavin already had a piece dipped in his own bowl. Nines nodded meekly, thinking he may as well do it to please Gavin. He accepted the bread and dipped it in his own bowl, watching quietly as Gavin ate. At first, he wondered how Gavin could eat at a time like this, but Connor and Sixty weren't his brothers. He had no significant history with them beyond this past year. Gavin had lost men before. Many men. Men he'd been closer to. Does he care at all? He knew it was an unfair thought. Of course he did. He may have had an up and down relationship with Sixty, but he'd liked Connor a great deal. "It's good, right?" Nines huffed. Gavin knew he hadn't taken a single bite.

"I'll open the box after..." Nines trailed off as he looked down at the soup. It blurred a little until he blinked and warm drops rolled down his cheeks. He thought he'd run out of tears already. He sniffled again and pressed into the gentle touch as Gavin leaned over with a handkerchief to dry his eyes. His fingers lingered, gently dabbing his reddened skin. It was sore.

"You want me to leave?" It was an understandable question. It was reasonable to think he might want some time alone with what was left of his brothers. He shook his head; unsure he'd be able to do it by himself. Taking a breath, he nibbled the soggy bread. Gavin was right. It was good. It wasn't heavy, and it was tasty. Full of fresh, spring flavours. A light broth rather than a thick, wintry soup. He sipped a spoonful quietly. Gavin seemed happier once he started eating and returned his attention to his own bowl. They remained quiet. Gavin finished first, setting his bowl aside and looking idly around the room. He thought direct eye contact and watchfulness might be too forceful. He didn't want Nines to feel like he was impatient or expectant. Nines appreciated that as he spooned the broth into his mouth.

"D-do you...Do you have a knife?" He knew that he did. He was like Sixty. Sixty never went far without his pocket knife. Gavin nodded as he shuffled around to his own bedside table and rummaged in the top drawer to pull out a simple pocketknife. The one he used to keep with him on the front. It had been cleaned up since his return, like everything else he owned. Cleaned up, put away, and forgotten about. Nines accepted the small blade, and Gavin held the box steady as he cut it open with three quick swipes.