Good Things Fall Apart

Axis

Hushed voices, strained behind a closed door. Victor's eyes are locked on the wall, out of focus, but he can hear everything they're saying. The light in the kitchen is on; everything else is suspended in a dark sort of amber.

"I can't believe you fucking ran, Simon," Abby says, her voice hoarse and panicked. Their food is completely forgotten but the aroma still clings to the air. Victor wonders if he'll ever be able to eat Chinese food again.

"What was I supposed to do? You saw him when we came in. If we stuck around, somebody was going to think all of that blood was hers."

"He's already been through so much shit, Abby. The last thing the kid needs right now is to be thrown into a police investigation or something."

"But he's the only person who saw the guy who did it."

There's a silence. Victor's heart pumps in his throat. Despite his stillness the muscle gallops, every tender part of his body pulsing.

"Look. It's over now," Simon says. "We can't reverse it. And there's no way in hell we're going back. Plus, he told me he didn't get a good look at the guy. It's horrible, but I don't think there's anything he can do to help at this point, and if I can protect him from more stress right now..."

Even through the closed door Victor can hear Abby's sigh. "Fine. What do we do, then?"

"We go back to Atlanta. We can't keep him here after that," Bram says.

Victor's hands writhe against his chest. His arms are crossed over his ribs, holding himself. If he lets go, he might fall apart altogether.

"And you're sure he'll be safe there? I didn't ask, but I have a feeling he didn't get that bruise—"

Something cuts her off.

"He'll be fine. Better off than he'll be here. We're not equipped to handle this, as much as I want to," Bram says.

Another silence.

"Fine," Abby says. "We can leave first thing in the morning."

"I think that's best," Simon agrees. "For now, we should probably just get some sleep. Long drive and all that."

Victor blinks once in the gloom. All of the windows are closed for the first time since he's arrived, like they're trying to keep it out, this hulking, looming thing that's followed Victor home. But they don't realize he's brought it in with him. It's impossible to go anywhere without your own shadow, not as long as there's light.

The door opens. Victor doesn't move. Simon is in front of him now; he crouches and gives Victor a neutral stare.

"Hey. How you doing?"

Victor shrugs, looking over Simon's shoulder. He can't seem to bring himself to make eye contact.

"I know it's not that late yet, but we've decided to head back to Atlanta early tomorrow, so you should probably try to get some sleep. I talked to Kim and you can sleep in their bed if you want, instead of the couch," he says.

As enticing as that is, the idea of standing and moving is a daunting one. Victor shakes his head.

"Okay," Simon says carefully. "If you change your mind, you know where their room is, right?"

He nods.

"Okay," Simon repeats. "Bram and I won't be in Atlanta for the whole summer, but as long as we are, we'll be available to hang out, talk, whatever. You don't have to do this alone."

"Thanks," Victor says. It's the first word he's spoken since Simon dragged him off the street.

"Of course," Simon says. Then, unexpectedly, he leans forward and kisses Victor on the forehead. Heat rises to Victor's cheeks and it seems Simon might also be embarrassed by this action; when he backs away, his face is rosy. "I mean it, Victor. Try to get some sleep."