Chapter 60. Lack Of Words

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Xara's POV.

While Romeo was cooking something that was beginning to smell delicious I just sat there and looked out of the window, thoughts about my once beautiful town swirling in my head. Only now was I starting to realise that I had just given up on every idea to rebuild it, to fix it, to make it as similar to what it had been before. It meant, all my plans for the future were now gone and I had literally nothing to do once we kick John Doe off our doorstep. However, in all honesty, it did feel nice to know that I wouldn't go back down to that dark place with no sun and no wind and no rain.

Maybe it wasn't supposed to be this way - Oasis was my home after all - but this shack felt more comfortable to stay in than the ruins of my formerly magneficent town. Was it betrayal or was it normal? And what about Romeo, did he worry about his town?

"Hey." I called out and he turned his head at me, raising an eyebrow to confirm that he had been listening. "Do you ever think about your Romeosburg? About the people down there?"

The guy puffed thoughtfully as he stirred the food in the pan - the scent was almost making me go crazy, it was just so good - and gave something that vaguely resembled a shrug.

"I, uh, not really." He confessed, and I was just glad there was no guilt, no sadness in his voice. Maybe just a hint on grief, but that was normal. He used to love his town after all. "Remember, even my people mostly followed you or Fred. Who would want to stick with-with a crazy psychotic-"

"Stop." I raised my hand to shut him up before he had time to dig a hole and bury himself in it. "Just, stop. For once. You weren't crazy, you weren't psychotic, you were... Uh... You were... Lost."

That word appeared on my tongue by itself and, much to my surprise, actually fit in very well. Yeah, Romeo had never been crazy, at least more crazy than I. He just had his reasons which nobody really understood - not that it was a worthy explanation or an excuse, what he did was horrible. But he had no right to be called those words, especially not when he was already blaming himself enough.

My friend scoffed and turned the handle on the furnace, his head hanging low and his hands tightening the plaid around his mortal body. Sadness appeared on his face, that sadness that was enough to push me off the table and make me go towards him with a gentle and almost forgiving smile on my face. I-I would never forgive him, of course, and he knew it well, but maybe, just maybe, it would make him feel easier.

And it did.

I watched as the guy exhaled in relief and snuggled closer to me, searching for any kind of affection. With that smile still there on my face I wrapped my arms around his body for a moment or two, felt his chest move as oxygen was making its way in and out of his lungs.

"I am so sorry for that." Romeo whispered and hugged me back, and something cracked inside me. He didn't squeeze me like a stuffed animal, the way he always did when he was upset or worried or terrified. He didn't cry and sob anymore, and this time his tears didn't soak my clothes. There was no drama in his movements and his words, nothing like that. It was the sheer mourning inside his voice that made me shake to the core, the pure need to be forgiven that made air rush out of my lungs.

He was being sincere with me, and I knew that.

"I know." I nodded and cuddled into the warmth of his body, which felt like there was a small and kind fire burning underneath his skin. "I-I'm sorry too. You know, for not noticing what was happening to you."

The guy huffed in breathless laugh and let go of me. I stepped back and gave him a smile, noticing no tears on his beautiful face, no blush that always appeared after he cried. This time we were much calmer, and it felt more genuine this way.

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