The One

Holding on

Izar averted his gaze. As he did, he took a sharp intake of breath and raised his free hand to his chest, clutching it for a brief moment while keeping his other hand still under hers.

"What hurt you?" she asked, slightly alarmed by his sudden response. She didn't say anything provocative, of this Feray was certain.

"It might just be old wounds," Izar said. He took a pause there, clearly hesitant—and not bothering to hide it from her anymore.

"Tell me," she urged.

"...I just meant wounds inflicted by the poison. I've always been aware of my own emotions, but ever since I took the poison from your brother, it became more...troublesome." For now, it seemed like the pain had stopped, yet Izar remained stiff, as though expecting it to return any moment. "Every time it hits, I try to find out what the catalyst is—and that just sends a second wave coming, simply because by doing that, I'm reminding myself of what hurts. Even so, there are times when I don't even know why."

"What about now?" Feray asked.

This time, he smiled wryly. Rather than immediately answering, Izar handed her the glass of water that he'd brought with him. "Drink slowly," he reminded her. As she accepted the glass, he added, "Doesn't this look familiar to you? Or is it just my wishful thinking?"

In response, she nodded. "But I'm not Sadie, and..."

"Right now, you're weaker than she was, and I can't heal you." His grip on his chest tightened. "I can't heal you," he repeated, "And it was because of me that you need healing in the first place."

After taking a sip from her glass, Feray handed it back to him. He took it and put it back onto the desk. This simple gesture—if only temporarily—interrupted his chain of thought.

"Izar," Feray said, taking his hand once again, "The poison did make you realize you're more depressed than you thought, huh?"

To that, he couldn't help but chuckle, however bitterly. "I didn't think I would underestimate that, but yes."

"What exactly were you mad at me about?"

He was silent for a moment. "I wasn't mad at you."

"Huh?"

"I...I've been disappointed each time I dared hope," he began slowly, "But still I hoped that you and your brother would have the bond that I imagined—for the sake of my own solace, as I've told you before. At least...that's what I thought. But when I found that I wasn't included in your life plans..."

There, he frowned, unable to continue. The color on his cheeks suggested that this time, it wasn't a bitter memory that stopped him, but embarrassment. Upon that realization, Feray beamed. Still sitting, she slid to the right a little, just enough to make space.

"Sit up here with me," she said, patting the spot next to herself.

"Um...are you sure?"

"Why are you kneeling anyway?"

"...Because I did wrong. I was wrong to want more than necessary, and I was wrong to absorb the poison—no, I was wrong to make that decision on my own, rather. And then, because of all of that, you nearly died."

"Come up here," she said again. This time, he obliged. When he did, she naturally took his hand again, and he closed his own around hers. Feray leaned on his arm. "I think you're an idiot for ever doubting us, first of all. From the very start, you were a friend to us—even if, back then, you didn't really think the same way. When I agreed to put my brother first, I knew what I was agreeing to—even though I want to free Nasr, that doesn't mean I'll sacrifice Waylon for it. And—huh?"

Next to her, Izar grew stiff again, suddenly holding his breath. He glanced at her and immediately looked away.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"A little."

Feray began to laugh, only to stop almost instantly. "Ah...no fair, it hurts to laugh," she explained. Then, she lifted a hand to turn his face towards herself. "I said you were a friend from the start, I didn't say you're still just a friend now."

"I... didn't say anything about that."

"It's okay to want more, Izar. You're a person. I think you forget that sometimes."

He bit his lip, then sighed in defeat. "Then, what am I?"

"You've been letting me hold your hand. What do you think you are? Surely someone as smart as you wouldn't think I'm taking you as a brother, right?"

After saying so, Feray watched him closely, not wanting to miss out any reaction he could possibly give—after all, Izar was expressive like that. Afraid as he was of his emotions, he always confronted them. Now, he lowered his head into his hand, covering his lips as his eyes began to water. The grip on her hand tightened just a little, as if to ascertain that what she suggested was true.

"Just to be sure," she added, "I'm not reading this wrong, am I?"

He shook his head immediately. "Not at all."

"And... just to be sure, those tears don't hurt, right?"

He chuckled. "No, they don't."

She let out an exaggerated sigh. "Thank god. I'll continue then: if you don't want anyone to die for you, find your happiness. If the poison no longer has an effect over you, we won't need to find a cure either, right?"

Izar leaned back. Wiping his teardrops away, he looked at her intently. "You almost did. You played with your own life as a card more than once. I believe you aren't the most convincing person when it comes to that."

"Hey," she said, "The fact that I'm alive means something. I knew I wouldn't really die, both times I played like that."

"Explain this second time."

"I escaped your animorbis. Essentially, the damage I take is proportionate to the power difference between you and me. And I live."

His eyes widened in surprise. After a moment of stunned silence, Izar smiled. He released her hand to pull her in for a hug; his movements were gentle, as though afraid that a slightly stronger tug would tear her apart. He then planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Well done, Feray."

And this time, even Feray was surprised. She buried her face in his chest so that he wouldn't see the pink hues on her cheeks—how embarrassing that would be.