O Fortune

Eight for a Wish

"Beks! Hey, Beks!" JJ's voice rang out across the lobby. Otabek looked up from the stack of paperwork, rolling his shoulders to relieve the post-travel stiffness. "Man, when did you get in?"

"Last night," said Otabek, after a moment's jetlagged thought. "Late. Late-ish."

"Aw, you should have called me," replied JJ, dropping his hand onto Otabek's shoulder. Otabek's back stiffened for a moment. "Belle and I were out getting drinks."

"I was traveling for almost thirty hours." He bit his lip, surprised by the hint of harshness in his voice. Had JJ noticed? Was that a flash of hurt in his eyes, or was Otabek imagining it? He forced a smile. "You would have had to drag my unconscious body around Boston."

JJ's omnipresent grin flickered back to its normal brightness - if it had even dimmed in the first place - and Otabek sighed. The momentary tension had drained what was left of his energy, which was rendered as fragile as butterfly wings even before arriving for Worlds.

"You're done with the registration forms?" Otabek asked, searching for an easy topic.

"Yeah, off to meet Belle for brunch," agreed JJ. "You want to join us?"

"No thanks. I'll see you later, though."

"Ah, come on, Beks," said JJ, widening his eyes into an exaggerated pout. His promise ring gleamed in the fluorescent light. "You've been MIA since leaving Canada, I've gotta tell you about Toronto, and you need to spill the details on your hot celebrity life, dude. That guy who's always in your photos, you two are-"

"No," Otabek said sharply, cutting him off. "We're not. Text me this evening, if you're not busy."

JJ laughed and clapped him on the back. "Sure, Beks, you go nap out your jetlag grumpiness. I'll catch you later."

As JJ wandered off, Otabek pressed his fingertips into his temples to ward off the flash of regret and regarded the stack of paperwork. It seemed to have multiplied while he was distracted, and the pen was heavy and awkward in his hand.

His friendship with JJ had never been as easy or relaxed as time with Leo, but the distance had still been a pounding ache he could never quite suppress even as he tried to ignore it. We're both busy, he'd told himself, flinching under the weaponized jealousy of Timur's gaze. My life isn't exciting enough to talk about anyway.

It was a sensation he still couldn't shake. Now, faced with JJ's constant smile, the rapid stream of words he never had to think about or stumble through, the swagger that passed as confidence, Otabek felt like a shadow. His own thoughts were slow and disjointed when they came, catching in his throat as he spoke, and his very skin was etched with invisible fault lines. JJ was growing, but Otabek was ready to shatter.

Just a few more days, he thought. A few more days, and then he'd be able to start gluing the pieces of himself back together.

:: :: ::

After a timeless eternity, Otabek signed his name a final time and picked up his phone, steeling himself before glancing at the screen to check the time. Its weight in his palm was alien and strange, unfamiliar after two weeks in his sister's custody. Gulshat was the one who had blocked Timur's number when Otabek's shaking fingers faltered - and, over the following days, deleted the string of texts from borrowed phones.

"I think it might be best to change your number, Beka," she told him. Though her voice was steady, her eyes were wet and a red flush of anger stained her cheeks and neck. "Or let me murder him. Do you think Dad would help me hide a body?"

"No, he's got the nonviolent religion thing," Otabek replied. He didn't ask what the messages had said, and she didn't tell him. "Mom, maybe."

He shook his head when she tried to hand the phone back. It went into her desk drawer once more, new number and all.