Darknesss united

Chapter 20: Lost Story

Scar

I'm shaken awake by a familiar figure. The sun blinds me. "Scar?"

My bleary eyes clear and I see Cub's familiar face. 'Cub'. I know it's not him.

"Who's Scar?" My will sets. "Why did you wake me up?"

I can tell he knows it's me. I curl back up in a ball.

"Scar your communicator is a tracker. We can tell it's you. You're the only one who'd forget." His tone is condescending.

"Hey! I'm not that shoepid!"

Cub's voice softens, tears filling his eyes. "Please just let me explain."

I get up, holding my hand. I walk away. "No. There's nothing that could make me trust you."

I hear the wet splat of tears hitting the ground.

And suddenly, I don't have a choice anymore. My vision floods with his story. Laughing. Crying. Falling. Dying. The vex promising a second chance at youth. Waking up. Clutching the picture of who he would be again in his hands. Flying. Watching his home be cleared. Knowing his dead body disappeared. Over the forest to a fountain. Warnings of loss.

Cold water pouring over my head. Watching the wrinkles fade through the water's blur. Surfacing. It's still blurry.

Climbing out, wet and cold. Flying. A failed test. Thick glasses. Sleeping.

Sheer luck. But dead.

X finding him shivering. Offering the dead man a home. Telling him everything.

I wake up.

Shaking, I stand. He holds out a hand, hope glittering in his eyes. I push myself up on my own.

"I. Said. No." I try to leave again. He grabs my shirt, tearing the fabric with sharp claws. The unusable fabric falls to the ground at my ankles. His claws nick my back, barely tearing the skin.

He tries to say something. I interrupt, trying to avoid yelling. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!" I fail, blue surging through may veins. I throw my communicator across the ground. It bounces across the road, clattering to a stop in front of a car. The screen flickers on, smiles filling the display.

I don't know why I try to get it back. I should have just made my choice.

But I run into the road, stumbling over potholes and kicking stones.

I dive in front of the car, clutching the communicator in my hand.

Something crunches over my legs. Pain fills my body.

It all goes black.

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Cub

Scar's voice gets frantic as he asks to check my injuries.

Oh notch my injuries. How am I going to explain those to him?

And then he touches me. I relish the feel of his fingers against my bare skin. The gentle prodding of his nails.

And he freezes.

He knows.

"Let me explain!" My cries fly over his head.

Fear floods his eyes as he turns and runs. I try to reach for him, beg for strength to return to my body.

As he runs, I fall to the floor, helpless as my lifeline leaves.

I catch up to him a few hours later, barely managing to find the lump I realise is Scar. A hooded lump in the corner is nothing compared to the pure force of will Scar is.

I beg for him to listen, to just give me a chance. He freezes, standing eerily still for an endless heartbeat.

The ice holding him in placelts away at his deadly glare. His voice is cold with hatred, blue blood filling his veins. I don't know what I did.

I grab his shirt as the fabric tears at my claws, their sharp points marking his skin. His shirt falls to the ground at his ankles, and my claws run over his bare, tightly muscled chest. His wide eyes flicker back to emerald. My gaze fixes on his lips.

I try to ask him "please, just tell me what I did wrong", but he screams and yells and throws his communicator into the street, a car running towards it.

The light from the screen reflects into bright blue eyes filled with regret, and the world slows down.

I have time to measure every precious detail as Scar dives at the car, unable to do anything but watch. I don't miss each strand of his hair as it moves in the wind, each curve of his muscles, each year in his wings. It all commits to memory.

I blink, and time is back. I'm not a spectator any more. I throw everything I can think of up to help Scar survive. To beg he survives. All I can do is carry him home. Ambulances won't help civilians, much less villains. Bitterness fills my heart as I hold Scar in my arms. His breaths are faint and ragged, and his communicator is clutched tightly in his wrist. I lug him home.

He won't die. He can't die.

Right?