(Hiatus) Truce//RedCrackle

Chapter Two

Gray POV

Why was it so hard to eat?

I stared glumly at the food I had made that sat before me. Zack was downing it quickly, at least. That was good. I knew he was hungry- aside from the pastries this morning, he hadn't had much in the last week or so. Ivy had managed to swallow a couple bites before moving to sit on the living room couch and glower at the blank TV. I was worried about her. I was worried about them both, of course, but Ivy never seemed present anymore. Her mind was always somewhere else. And the moments she ever snapped back to reality were filled with tears and in some cases- a nervous fit. Hence the Bostonians' new matching haircuts, a remnant of her episode yesterday.

"This is really good, Graham," Zack remarked quietly, his eyes lighting up a little as he finished what was on his plate. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a hint of a smile, something I hadn't seen in- who knows how long, really. "Thanks, man."

I nodded, grateful that he wouldn't go hungry today, at least.

"Ivy?" I said, half convinced she wouldn't even hear me. "You want any more food? Have you had water recently?"

She stayed silent and unmoving for a couple seconds, then shook her head, to my surprise. Tears streaked down her face, and I frowned sadly. "I, uh-" Her voice was hoarse, but I was shocked to hear it at all. "I could use some water. Or maybe something... hot. To drink."

I stood immediately to make a cup of tea, not wanting to keep her waiting. Zack followed to help, obviously just as anxious to assist his sister. She didn't move until I was standing in front of her with a hot cup. Ivy jumped, seemingly startled to see me.

"What's this?"

"Tea. For you. You asked for it."

"Oh... Thank you."

To mine and Zack's relief alike, she drank the tea rather quickly. I cleaned the dishes while Zack helped himself to my plate, after I had reassured him I wasn't hungry. Ivy was staring into her empty cup when I finished, and I watched silently as a tear dropped into it, and she promptly stood, leaving to go to the building's roof.

I found her there the next morning before I went on my walk, her sleeping form smothered by the blankets Zack had brought up.

Today was surprisingly hot. I ended up taking a moment to switch my jacket out of a short sleeved polo shirt at my work, the result of the sun blazing down at the world in all its glorious rage. It was an uncomfortable heat. Stuffy and thick and suffocating, the kind that bathed your tongue in burning spikes of air every time you breathed. It was a bit of a shock. Sudden heat waves weren't too uncommon in this part of the country, but it was unusual for this time of year. Just yesterday had been awfully cool.

I'll need to call Zack later to make sure the apartment's AC unit is working... 

Working retail had never been what I wanted. I missed the Sydney Opera House. I really did. I missed the stage and the people and the chatter before the shows, how my fingers felt on the lighting boards, the feeling of excitement as the music swelled in my headpiece. That was what I had worked towards. The feeling of belonging. The sense of purpose and accomplishment.

But VILE had ruined everything.

"How was your trip?"

Player muttered a grumbled answer under his breath as he dumped himself into my car, his hair hanging over his eyes.

"That good, huh?"

He sighed, pulling the door closed, and leaned back against the seat. I pulled us out of the airport pickup lane, jumping into the freeway. He didn't speak for another couple minutes.

"It was good." His voice was quiet and low. "Like, it actually was. I'm just tired."

I felt myself frown with sympathy. Poor kid had it just as bad as the rest of us. Everything had seemed to spiral down in life after what happened, even for Player. I knew he missed his parents. I knew he missed Canada. But I couldn't help him yet. "Did you sleep on the plane?"

"Maybe a little." He twisted in his seat belt to curl up in the chair, facing me. The harsh strap cut into his shirt and small frame, and I realized with worry that he looked thinner than when I had last seen him a week ago.

"What about food? Been eating enough?"

His only response was to shrug and hold out his hand in a pleading gesture. I took my right hand off the wheel and put it in his own, and he moved it to cushion his head. I tried not to cry as he snuggled into my palm, his heavy eyelids fluttered close.

"You sleep, kid," I whispered to him, determined not to move my hand from where it cradled his cheek. "Everything will be ok." I drove with one hand back to the apartment, managing to stay safe.

I hope.