Episode 3 Sneak Peek #10

I wrote ~4000 words while on vacation (yes, yes should not have been writing, but I wanted to finish a branch), all from an Aeran high friendship branch. 

Maybe you were too selfish, demanding so much of him. This hand you’ve been dealt is brutally unfair. To get the closure you so desperately need, you have to force him to relive a tragedy he can barely acknowledge. It’s clear that there are things he cannot talk about. There are things he does not want to remember. His actions last night were like those of a wounded animal lashing out at a helping hand.

You know he may never be prepared to tell you the truth. He may never be able to take the steps to heal. But someday, if he ever does… You need to be there for him.

Because no one else will be.

[CHOICE] 1. “I’m sorry.”
2. “I guess there’s no point thinking that far into the future when we barely know how today will turn out.”
3. “Rebuilding is such a phenomenal task, I barely know where to begin. But I want you to be there—in whatever way you want.”

1. “I’m sorry.”

You raise a hand as you speak, shielding your squinting eyes from the newborn sun. Aeran slumps forward, arms still resting on the balustrade, shoulders sagging. This conversation has left you both drained. Whatever precious restfulness you felt upon waking has all but vanished.

The silence bears down on you, growing heavier with each passing second.

“You’re not the one who should be sorry,” Aeran says grimly. “I’m the fuck up, not you.”

You inhale a long, shaking breath, conflicting choices circling your mind. There’s so much you want to ask him, so much you want to say to him… But after last night, can you even bring yourself to raise it now?

[CHOICE] 1. “Then make it better. If you really want to do that, start by telling me what happened that night. I promise, whatever it is you can’t bring yourself to tell me… I can handle it.”
2. “That self-deprecation is doing you no favours, you know.”
3. Leave him be. It’s clear he needs his space right now, and you can’t force the issue. He’ll come to you when he’s ready.

1. “Then make it better. If you really want to do that, start by telling me what happened that night. I promise, whatever it is you can’t bring yourself to tell me… I can handle it.”

More silence.

You fold your arms and lean your back against the balustrade, fixing him with an inescapable stare as you wait for his response. Though his expression darkened at your words, Aeran can’t bring himself to answer. No response, no explanation, not even a half-hearted retort. He simply hangs his head, hands braced on the railing as he stares at the crushed stone path so many feet below you.

“It was a mistake, $firstname,” he says finally. “We should never have come here.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“This… city… this place, it’s… It’s brought out the worst in me. And you’ve taken the brunt of that, and it wasn’t fair… and for that, I’m so sorry. But I’m not ready to have this conversation. Not now. Not here. Not when we’re surrounded by these people.”

His revulsion is palpable, as if he is speaking after forcing down a piece of rotten fruit.

“But once we’re free of Velantis and Quirinus… I’m going to tell you everything. I promise.”

He meets your eyes, honesty shining so fiercely in his gaze, it rivals the morning sun. A chill creeps across your spine. You believe him. Of course you do. But the way he says it…

No. He said he’s not ready. Respect that.

“Then I’ll hold you to that,” you say. “After all, you do owe me a favour.”

He blinks. “I… what?”

A smile tugs at your lips. “A favour.”

He frowns, confused. “Since when did I owe you a—”

“In Rona. We bargained, you lost, and now you owe me a favour. Don’t tell me you forgot—”

He blows a raspberry. “Oh, come on, that was a month ago. And it was a joke. You can’t seriously—”

“I want my favour, Aeran,” you say, deadpan. “Give me my favour.”