Gabriel: Prequel

sixteen

[ gabe's pov]

Exiling everyone into harsh, cold and unforgiving deepness, Nicholas was truly adamant on not knowing any of us. It's been weeks since Amancia died, and yet, he still stays defiant, keeping himself away from us. The grief he must feel is overbearing, dragging him to a point of no return. She was his other half; his soulmate. Without her, I guess he doesn't quite know where he fits in. Rehan told us that he needed time, that he probably would never speak to us for a long time, simmering in quiet anger. Apparently, that had been enough for Harper and I to go back home - she didn't want to stay in his firing line anymore. If anything, she is his only target; not only does he hold blame towards her, but she holds equal blame at herself. As soon as we reached home after a long journey, she sulked into her own lone path, checking up on me occasionally. I tried to contact her numerous times, but I should know that when she's defiant, she won't budge. And, for as long as she holds herself accountable for Amancia's death, she won't speak.

So, I don't know where she is or how she's doing, and that thread of wavering trust is already so fragile by now, that it'll probably break soon. Her isolation left me in my own slump, retiring to the same routine of my life and parents. The minute I entered my house, my dad slammed the door on me, keeping me out in the front lawn until he wanted to let me in. He didn't belittle me; he didn't scold me, and he didn't hit me. In some ways, I would rather he was angry at me, and show me his anger, instead of leaving me in cold silence. The isolation by Harper, Nicholas and my parents chip at me each second, gnawing at me until I become small and nothing. The threads I made with any of them are slowly starting to thin in front of me, and I'm scared that they'll truly tear off any minute now, leaving me alone for good. Only Rehan speaks to me consistently, probably sharing the same guilt I do. 

"Has she spoken to you yet?" Rehan asks, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. After sharing my loneliness with him, he offered to see my hometown, and my school, and had waited for me today by a nearby restuarant.

"Nah. I'm guessing he hasn't spoken, either?"

He shakes his head, his eyes dulling slightly. "Even if I threatened to kill him, he wouldn't breathe. I'm worried for them."

"Yeah, same," I agree, sharing his muted tone as we absent-mindedly look at the menu. 

"Alright, guys, ready to order?" A waiter asks, a smile on his face.

I order the usual salad, looking at Rehan expectantly. Except, he just orders the same as me, smiling politely before his face morphs into a solemn shade. After ordering, I look at him quizically. "Salad?"

"I guess I'm not hungry these days."

Instantly, I search his face for anything that would help explain something clearer to me. Rehan, no matter what mood, could easily eat multiple things off the menu. For him not to even order two dishes strikes me: although he isn't putting up a, necessarily, tough front up, he can still act indifferent and content enough to keep me calm. But, I should've known how much it would eat him up. He's one of the most sensitive guys I know, which comes at a price, however. He wasn't able to "man up" enough to save any of his friends, and he probably thinks he's paying the price justly by being isolated. The realisation dawns over me quickly, unsettling me to the point of dread acting as a typhoon inside of me.

"It's not your fault, you know. You were scared, and that's fine. Even if you did do something, you wouldn't have changed the final arrow hitting her."

He looks up at me wearily, his eyes becoming wet as he quickly looks down again, "I can't seem to stop being so sensitive and selfish these days. I was always sensitive, actually, but after that...after Amancia, everything seems to make me upset. It always is my fault."

I lean forward, watching as the brown in his eyes become clouded with wetness, tear after tear sliding down his cheek. "Is something else going on, Ray?"

Keeping his eyes trained on his knees, he stays defiant not to meet my eyes, as if seeing me will trigger more tears. "Do you know why I joined those two?"

I shake my head, letting him continue.

"I was always a bit weird; too quiet; too sensitive; too dramatic, sometimes. My family didn't really appreciate it, actually. Perhaps you wouldn't understand, Gabe, because they're Asian, and their expectations of how men should be can be clouded. Culture is a big influence on my family, anyway. They never hid their disappointment with me being sensitive, or too fragile, you know? And, you know, I'm part of the swim team, so there was always competition with the other guys about body types, and I'm scrawny, so, immediately, I'm kind of a loser, I guess. One day, though, the other boys tried to drown me, not letting me go up for air, and that was really scary. So, I cried. A lot. But, anyway, my family found out and became so ashamed of their eldest son being so sensitive; a guy who couldn't hold their own. I guess that's when I knew I didn't belong where I did, so I left home, because I finally realised that culture was more important than my feelings, which I try to conceal all the time. Shortly after, I met a couple - Nicholas and Amancia - and she was so nice, Gabe. She let me cry in her arms, and he, too, let me vent when necessary. They never made me feel small or fragile around them. But, in her final moments, I felt so small. I couldn't protect her and that fucking sucks, 'cause for just one time, I wanted to be strong for her. And, I wasn't."

As soon as he finishes, he releases a shaky breath, finally looking up at me through his wet glasses. His face coloured with anticipation, he begins to drop his head again, but I intercept him, grabbing his hand. "I think you're pretty, fucking brave, Rehan. Brave enough to talk about how you're feeling. Doing that sounds like something only someone so strong and capable could do. Yeah, okay, you couldn't be strong for her when she died, but you know what? I don't think she would've wanted that: she loved you for your vulnerability, so why the hell would she have wanted you to do anything different for her? You gotta stop beating yourself up, man."

I expect him to recoil at my touch, to mask his face, but he does the opposite. His eyes twinkle as the corners of his mouth lift. He doesn't reply to me, and, instead, calls the waiter over again to order a second dish.