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Ruth let out a slow breath through his nose, shaking his head as he turned his gaze back to the horizon beyond the trees. His fingers worked at the cigarette, rolling it absently before finally clicking his fingers and bringing the conjured flame to the tip. The first inhale was a relief, a familiar burn in his lungs, the kind of comfort that no bitter medicinal brew could replace. He exhaled through his nose, watching the smoke curl into the air before he finally spoke.

Worse. I always expect worse. His voice was quiet but firm, as if he were stating a fact as plain as the colour of the sky. You’ve never had a kind word for me. It was always a backhanded slap or a speech about how I was the clan disappointment. His tone wavered slightly, but he masked it with another drag of the cigarette, letting the sting of nicotine settle something deep in his chest. And the worst part is, you were right. I proved you were always right.

He scoffed, rubbing at his face with his free hand before flicking ash off the side of the branch. All that woman does is meddle… The words held a note of exasperation, but there wasn’t real anger behind them. If anything, there was understanding. Ruth knew Megara never did anything without reason, that she always had her eyes on the bigger picture, even when it made people like him feel like test subjects in some grand experiment of hers. But, I get it. She means well. Even if it makes me feel like a sodding guinea pig.

A hollow laugh slipped from his lips, lacking any real humour. A moment ago, I called her wise, and now I’m thinkin’ she’s just delusional. But that would mean I agree with you, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that amount of growth. Not yet. He smirked faintly, a ghost of his usual sharpness, but it faded just as quickly as it appeared.

His grip on the cigarette tightened slightly as he looked down at Kellam again. I don’t know if you want to do that right now. Look at me through my own eyes. He gestured vaguely to himself, the circles under his eyes, the way his clothes hung just a little too loose, the trembling in his fingers that still hadn’t fully left. I’m frankly pretty fucked up right now. His voice was steady, but there was no bravado in it—just honesty. A rare, painful kind.

Another inhale, another exhale, as if the smoke might help fill the hollow parts of himself that still felt empty. But, you’re still here. For now, at least. He flicked more ash away, watching it drift down to the dirt below. So, what now? Back to bed?

@Kellam Yoesif