Against the Universe - After ONE 18

FIVE | Weak As A Backpack

"You think he's okay?"

Bryce looked at Amelia, who had asked the question.

With her arms and legs stretched in one of her comfortable yoga positions, she was seemingly trying to clear her mind. Yet, judging by her nerve-wracked expression, it wasn't working. When her voice rang in the air, her muscles relaxed as if she woke herself up from a trance.

Was Liam okay? The soda bottle averted his gaze; how was he supposed to know? Worry obviously cramped him too. Reassuring had never been his strong side, but for his friend's sake, he tried to appear hopeful:

"I mean, he's got to be, right? He wouldn't leave us like that and he's not stupid either. He can get around."

"Yeah but... he's all alone up there," pointed out the candle. "He could get hurt and nobody would help him."

"Let's not assume the worst... He'll be fine... That guy is determined as heck. He's probably just sleeping off all those days he stayed up working 24 hours straight. He needs some rest as well."

Amelia thought for a while, fiddling with a blade of grass.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

They stood in silence, avoiding each other's glances.

"We'll have to tell him," Amelia muttered.

"I know."

...

Liam was not fine, not in the slightest.

The absurdity and hopelessness of the situation, almost as if toying with him, left him stressed out, worn out. The spots around his eyes had been damp for hours.

Attempts to straighten out his leg proved to be a massive undertaking, with even the smallest movement hurting like a new injury, requiring all of his willpower to even entertain the thought, let alone go through with it. Just grabbing the limb nearly caused a yelp to escape his throat, only a deep instinct holding it in, letting out a moan through clenched teeth instead. He had made no progress whatsoever. When it tired him to the maximum, he was passing out, then waking up and trying again.

Downcast thoughts started flooding his mind. Nobody would find him. He would never get out of here.

He would die here and his friends would never get out of the Plane, forever wondering where he went.

Just. Keep going! Liam was convincing himself despite trembling. He reached to his leg again; he didn't even bother wiping the tears continuously trickling down his face.

It went on - for hours. The forest had turned dark when he broke his leg, now the sun delighted the world with its brightness. He pressed very hard once, but felt like that damaged the limb even more. And he still couldn't manage to fix even one fracture. Pain took over his body and next time he slipped into unconsciousness, dusk had fallen again when he regained senses.

Liam wanted to go home so badly, he was so focused on this one thing, but his body simply protested. He had drained it with all the nights he stayed up, with meals he purposely avoided, with sitting constantly and ignoring his sore leg.

Failure catches us by surprise.

He was angry at his body, because, too frail and exhausted, it couldn't meet his requirements. But as he tried and tried, anger changed into despair.