Devils and Angels

xxiii. dying lights, christmas nights

a k r a s i a

lack of self-control

▬▬▬▬▬

EVEN IN THE PRESENCE OF my friends, I shivered. It was becoming apparent to me that everything in life had an expiry date―the dead weight of Henry's head on my leg; the lightness of the sky, slowly fading; my time with my friends, that decreased with each tick of the clock; life itself―and use by dates never left enough time for you to really appreciate what you had.

Archie woke up briefly at six twenty-one PM and died within the next fifteen minutes. Those last few hundred seconds were a fight for his life―a losing battle.

We had been the last to see him. He'd smiled faintly at Jess in Derek's arms, gave Henry a brief nod, but when his eyes reached mine, they became blank and soulless. He'd seemed so alive when his hand ripped away from mine, and like I had then, I stared at the absence of his fingers in shock, wondering how it'd been so long since we were on the same wavelength.

"I don't blame you for not wanting to see me," I'd said, stepping back from him, as if our volatility would cause us to combust. "You already saw Ayden, right?"

"He told me the truth," His voice had been hoarse, and his eyes fell closed with defeat. "No. He lied to me, and called it the truth. I―I saw it in his eyes."

"What did you see?" I asked softly, perching on the chair by his bedside.

"Nothing." Archie's bottom lip had jerked violently. "They were―empty. He said he loved me, but―but you can't say something like that. Not when you have nothing in your eyes."

I'd taken that moment to think back to glistering cerulean, always warm, always tender, and I'd shaken my head, latching my fingers with his. Arch didn't pull away, that time.

"I'm sorry," I had whispered to him gently. "He didn't love you."

"He loved you." Archie's eyes had been wide and pained, and I knew that I would never forget that look. "Or, he thought he did. Enough to―to do anything for you."

"Like hurt you in the process," I supplied with shining eyes, offering Henry a hesitant, waterlogged smile when he came and sat beside me. His arm had immediately pressed against mine, but my first thought was on Archie, always. "And hurt me. But we're a team, Arch, and you're all that matters to me right now."

"I―I never should have blamed you. Or Caspian," He'd confessed, choked. "I was blind."

"Blinded," I corrected him then, before I'd been reaching across to stroke his hair. "You can see now. You can move on. You're not broken, and you're not defeated."

I'd paused then, and I remembered thinking back to what Caspian had told me. "And you're not alone, either."

"I love you," Archie then had murmured, his eyes drenched with honesty and gratitude. His dark gaze had flitted around the whole room, acknowledging each of us in turn. "Where is Caspian, anyway? I need to apologise to him, too."

I couldn't help but realise then that Archie had always been the more courageous of the two of us. If he'd been in my shoes, he would have put up more of a fight―stayed, for one of the few people that felt temporary in a world of transience and impermanence. If I had half of Archie's bravery, maybe Caspian would be here now, and I wouldn't be so torn in two.

Then and there, I'd made the promise to do better for him, before turning back to my inspiration with shining eyes.

The look I had fixed him with was entirely apologetic, and I couldn't help but feel the guilt that pooled in my chest when I registered his absence. "I don't think he can make it. He'll come soon, though. I promise."