Marcid

Fifty-One - Zeke

He felt ready. For the first time in a long time; Zeke felt ready. He didn't know what for. He simply felt the weight in his chest lift. The bad thoughts that infiltrated his head had stopped. He felt ready. He didn't feel his heart pound with sorrow and uncertainty of if he really was ready. He knew he was. He just felt it. He just knew it. He was ready.

Ready to feel his wings grow. To let go of all that weighed him down. To let go of those who brought him even the slightest of discomfort. He was ready.

* * *

The absent warmth of the thin blanket draped across Zeke's body. His head above the pillow, his chest rising and lowering with ease. The feeling of silence had blended everything around the sleeping boy to nothing.

"Zeke." A quiet voice interrupted. He couldn't recognize it. He didn't want to.

Kory. Something in Zeke twisted with guilt. She wasn't more important than him. She wasn't, was she? No. She wasn't. What was wrong with him? The bad thoughts started to come back. Why wouldn't he just tell him that she wasn't? Everything would have been better. He didn't have to do that. He should have stayed quiet. It was all his fault. The weight in his chest came back. He wasn't ready. He just wasn't ready yet. He needed to fix things. Isn't that what she would have wanted? For everything to be fixed? For him to be free of the lab, of his thoughts. He would be free if he was simply ready. It's what she would have wanted. It's what she wants. Zeke opened his eyes, finding Kory's warm gaze looking back at him. His eyes showed such warmth that Zeke thought he would never see again. His facial expression showed something much worse. It wasn't hinted with warmth. No positivity that often radiated off of the long-haired boy across from Zeke. It was disdainful. Full of disappointment. Kory sat next to him, an unknown feeling holding back the words that he so evidently wanted to utter. Zeke knew that it was over from then. He still wanted to cling on. She was waiting. In his heart. She was clinging on for him the same way that he clung on for Kory.

Zeke let out a soft rasp, "I'm sorry."

Kory stared. The warmth in his eyes started to fade. "Atticus told me that I couldn't speak to you anymore," he whispered. "And it's killing me." He looked away, a frown shifting his lips. His fingers fidgeted with the end of his sleeve. Zeke sat up, absorbing the stomach-twisting information. He didn't want to stop talking to him. He didn't want things to end on such bad terms. He wasn't ready yet. He didn't want to let go of him yet.

"Will you forgive me?"

Silence.

Instead of hearing Kory's unspoken words, he felt them.

"Please? Kory, just say something–anything–if it would just mean that you forgive me." Zeke pleaded, his good hand tugging on the silent boy's sleeve. "Please. Just talk to me. Don't ignore me like this! Why are you ignoring me?" His voice rose with emotional hurt surfacing within his words. "Please?" Zeke squeaked, his brows furrowing to a worried look to assist his pleas. Kory refused to even face Zeke's direction. His hands were tightly balled up into fists, though neatly set on his lap. Kory lowered his eyes down to the floor, his bottom lip almost trembling. He bit his lip to put a stop to his quivering lip. Zeke didn't want to let go of him. He refused to. Hadn't he decided that he was finally ready? Why the sudden change? What brought back the uncertainty? It felt different this time, new. The begging boy didn't know what he was uncertain of now. Was it simply the thought of leaving everyone, him, behind that made fear pump through his veins? Did he really want to know? It wasn't too late to turn back. His heart still thumped with meaning. He was here for a 'reason.' He simply wandered off to search for the other boy. He sacrificed his safety to search for him. And this was the 'thanks' that he got. The permanent silent treatment. He had lost him once. He didn't want to lose him again; forever, this time. Zeke exhaled through his nostrils, his heavy heart losing the weight that it had carried for years. "I just want an answer to my final question to you." He softly spoke. "Can you do that for me?" He said, as if he was a nurse speaking to a toddler experiment. Kory slightly turned his body towards Zeke, lifting his head to finally face the issue that had lingered for days. The long-haired boy only nodded. It was enough for Zeke. It was more than enough, at this point.