[warning: some mature themes.]
We Aren't Heroes
He hates the way she's given up. All the vibrancy has seeped from her mind and body. She even looks muted now. He guesses her hair is still the same bright red he's always known, but it's like it can't even be bothered to curl anymore and just hangs lankly around her face instead. Even her eyes look dull and her mouth assumes this permanent frown. Most alarming though, is how quiet she's become.
She's still there but she isn't, which doesn't quite make sense but Lysander doesn't know how else to describe it. He can feel her absence like part of his body has been wrenched from its place. She's a ghost, haunting him with tainted memories.
Lysander just wishes he could save her.
He flopped down beside her on the couch and smiled at her, ignoring the way the smile seemed to stop just short of her. "We're all going down to the lake. Want to come?"
Rose just shook her head, staring out into the distance. A textbook lies open in her lap, but it's been minutes since she looked down at it last.
"It'll be fun. Everyone wants to see you."
She made this huffing sound and turned away like it was a lie she wouldn't even bother to address.
His friends -their friends once- were waiting for him, but they could keep waiting. "We won't go to the lake but come with me, please." He took her hand and she allowed him to drag her along. It would have hurt less if she'd tried to fight him off.
He led her from the common room, where the crimson and gold only served to remind him who'd they'd both been. Lysander didn't care that the alcove he took her to was more commonly used by snogging couples and he ignored that they'd been there before, under other, happier circumstances. He just needed for it to be only him and her and for her to listen to him and -although it may have been too much to ask- for her to understand. He tried not to think of before, when things had been easy.
They stood there, the awkwardness heavy in the air. Lysander could feel it in his bones and in his dry mouth but he choked the feeling down. With gentle hands he stroked her hair and tried not to think of when it had been soft and clean. "You're fire bright," he told her, gaze traveling from her red locks down to her brown eyes. "Even your eyes are warm." He stroked her cheek and for a moment her eyes flickered shut. "You're so beautiful that I can't just look at you once. My eyes come back again."
"Ly-"
He ignored her interruption. "Yet you hate yourself." He squeezed her shoulder, she didn't break. "I don't understand. You're terrific, you are strong."
She shook her head so forcibly, like she was trying to shake off more than his words. "I'm not."
He hated how he could almost believe her now. "You can be, I've seen it."
They'd been at the river, at the top of the waterfall. Rose had been fearless and Lysander had been so in love. He could still feel the wind, fresh and cool on his face. He could still feel the warmth of her touch and see her dazzling smile.
Tears swelled in Rose's eyes and Lysander wanted to catch them before they could even fall. But he'd learnt that he had no power over pain, he couldn't take it away. If he could he would drown it in the ocean, bury it deep in the earth where it couldn't even get close to touching her. Sometimes now it felt like there was an entire ocean between them.
He closed his eyes. "What happened wasn't your fault."
Her shoulders shook beneath his hands and betrayed that she didn't believe him. They never spoke about this. He hadn't even brought it up in what may have been a year, perhaps longer. No one spoke about this or about him, but that day was rooted in his memory as the day the life had died in Rose's eyes and, it grew to seem, in her. It usually hurt too much to even think about.
"I killed him." Her words fell out in a sob, her face blotched with red.
Lysander wanted to hug her so tightly but there was that space between them, more than physical. His voice was whip sharp. "Don't ever say that."
Her bloodshot eyes narrowed. There was a shard of her old bite when she spoke. "It's the truth."
"He killed himself, Rose."
"Because of me!"
Lysander was silent for a second too long.
She looked away. "You know it too."
When they were seven they'd 'rescued' a baby bird from a nest. Rose had made a bed for it in her jacket and cried when it stopped accepting the twigs they offered it, when it stopped doing anything at all.
"Why do you do this to yourself?" Lysander asked. "You know there was more to it than that. There were more monsters in his mind than your rejection."
Her bloodshot eyes narrowed and she stepped closer to him. He was frozen in place.
Rose tipped her head on the side, gaze piercing right through him. "I know better than anyone." Her voice was deadly quiet.
Fear slithered down his spine, made a home in his stomach. He knew what was coming.
"You left me. You're with her now."
Maybe that wasn't fear. Maybe that was guilt. "You shut me out. I tried so hard but you wouldn't even speak to me."
"How can you tell me to be strong when you took the easy way out yourself?"
"Nothing about leaving you was easy." He didn't mention how she was really the one to call it off. That wasn't what mattered. "I haven't stopped caring. I haven't stopped trying-"
"But? There's a but, isn't there?"
There was. He forced himself to look at her as he said the words. "I'm not going to throw my life away for someone who won't even live for their self."
"Doesn't our past mean anything to you?"
"It means everything. Why do you think I haven't given up?" He stepped away, stared off into the distance. "But it seems I'm not the hero I always thought I could be."
"And I'm not who you thought I was." The fire had gone out, her shoulders had deflated. She looked so small and sounded so sad.
"You haven't exactly..." This was hard for him to say. It was hard for him to even consider hurting her, but he wouldn't allow anyone to walk all over him. "...You haven't been kind to me either. It's like our past doesn't mean anything to you. It's like I don't."
She raised her head, surprise flickering in her eyes. "How could you even think that?"
"You've rejected every one of my attempts to be there for me. You've rejected me countless times over." He let out a dry, humourless laugh. "Yet I keep coming back. How stupid am I? I was always there for you, I've always been there for you but I couldn't do anything. I felt so hopeless and it was for nothing. It didn't even mean anything to you. Everything in you died when he did. I don't know how I didn't see it before."
This wasn't how the conversation was meant to go. Somehow he'd tapped into the darkest reaches of his subconscious, to where the feelings he didn't even know he had resided.
Rose's eyes were wide, her bottom lip shook. She reached out to touch his arm but he flinched away from the touch.
Memories and feelings crashed together in Lysander's mind, a force so furious he had to grip at his head, cover his eyes and try to block it all out. It was useless. He tried to push them away but they slammed into each other, combining, mutating.
Then somewhere in the distance he saw a spark. It was realisation. Was this what it was like for Rose? Maybe the lights weren't switched off inside her mind at all, maybe a battle raged there instead. "I want to help you," he managed to say, "but you have to want to help yourself." He turned from her and slid down into a seating position, back against the cool stone wall. He tried to concentrate only on his breathing, but it came in ragged bursts that shook his chest.
For a few moments Rose stayed where she was. Lysander considered what it'd be like not to have her in his life at all. She'd been so distant for so long but she'd still been there. He could still see her, talk to her. Even now when he tried to picture a life without her he felt cold. He couldn't do it.
He felt rather than saw her sit down beside him. Their shoulders were almost, but not quite, touching. He closed his eyes and listened as she began to talk. There was something about the familiar rhythm of her voice that began to relax the tension in his shoulders, calmed his breathing. It had been so long since he'd heard her say so much.
"Do you remember when I hurt my leg, climbing those oaks?" she asked. "You warned me not to go that high up, but I did, and of course I fell and twisted it underneath me. You said you'd carry me home, even though there was no way you were big enough, but I'd gotten myself into that mess and I wouldn't even lean on your shoulder. I dragged my leg all the way home, with you there beside me that whole time, begging me to let you help me. Then it turned out it was broken, and my stupidity had only worsened the injury."
Lysander could still remember the worry, so strong he could taste it. He finally looked at her.
"I think I've finally learnt my lesson from that." Her mouth tugged up at the corners in what was almost a smile and despite everything, it was the greatest sight Lysander had ever seen.
He didn't know where his anger had gone, but it was replaced by pure relief. Lysander had a quick and easy grin and it shone through now. "It's about time."
She actually laughed. It was only for a split second, but it happened. "I've been a terrible friend," she said, sombre once again. "Whatever else we may have been, our friendship is the one thing I valued most. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
An apology couldn't fix everything, but it was a start. "I haven't been much better," Lysander admitted.
"Actually, I think you have," Rose objected with a glimpse of her dry humour.
This time he laughed. This all felt so surreal. He wiped his eyes, surprised to feel tears. "Okay, maybe a little better."
They smiled at each other.
"I just felt so guilty," Rose said, by way of explanation. "All I could do was think of ways I could have changed how it had happened. I was trying so hard to fix the past that I didn't even notice my present falling apart around me. I never meant to shut you out. Or maybe I did, I just felt I deserved to suffer too."
It was Lysander's turn. "I was selfish, self-obsessed. I was too busy worrying about what you thought of me or why you thought it and how I could fix it that I didn't think of you or what you needed. And then I left, because it got too hard."
Rose gave a wry little smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I guess we're both a little fucked up."
Lysander took her hand, squeezed it softly, just once, then let go. "I think it's called growing up."
Once two children had tried to catch frogs in a pond out the back of one of their houses, and made a treehouse in the backyard of the other's. They'd looked up at the stars and they'd made a promise, they'd said they'd never grow up. Then there was another, and that one they meant even more.
No matter what, they'd always be together.
Rose winced. "We were never meant to do that."
Lysander shrugged. "No way to go but forward."
Rose held out her hand. "Friends?"
They couldn't be more, not like this. Lysander wasn't even sure he wanted that. Not yet, at least. He just knew one thing. He smiled and clasped her hand. "Always."