It has been a long long time.
I don't recall how to write. how the words used to flow out.
so.
this was the best I could do.
It was so cold and he was already so tired. And he had been tired for so long that he didn't even have the energy to care about not getting enough sleep, or the fact that he didn't care how little he could be arsed to train anymore.
He had tried his best, he had kept on pushing way past the point of where he would have needed a break.
Because he had kept on thinking, hoping that maybe if he just could get a little further, try just that little bit harder he would get past some point and things would start making sense again.
That maybe there would be someone telling him that it was okay, he had done enough and he could take it a bit easier that it wasn't all up to him to keep things going.
For he was part of the team. He knew that. They had come and fetch him back when he had went rogue but even that felt kinda like being back to cage. Maybe he had not left for power. Maybe he had left in hopes of being free of having to look after everybody and making all the decisions.
Of course that hadn't been what he had gotten, instead of being free he had just turned into another pawn, used by someone else.
At least his team valued his efforts. Thought he mattered somewhat.
And he was happy about that, he truly was and he wished that would have been enough to make him feel better. To feel whole or alive or content.
But he still felt disconnected and an outsider. Which he was, he couldn't let loose and goof around like the rest of them could. He didn't have someone to pull him back in case he got too close to the edge but he was there to make sure his teammates did not go over.
Someone had to. Because those kids didn't have much of anything either. Tyson had his grandpa but he was a bit senile and not much of use. Max had his parents but they were distant. Proud and supportive of him but not part of his everyday life, to lend a hand in case he stumbled.
And Rei. He had made peace with his old team and had those ties to keep him up.
But those all were existing but not present bonds. Useful but not secure. So he had to keep watch.
He just wished. He had no right but he still wished that he would someone to fall back to. Someone who he could let his guard down and who would not judge him as being weak, nor start questioning his leadership in case his armor showed any cracks.
But how nice it would be.
He shivered and crossed his arms tighter over his chest. Trying to keep himself together with cheer will like he had done for so long.
But he knew he was slipping. Because he knew it was not cold here. Not really but in his head he was freezing.
A quick smirk passed over his lips. He was being stupid. Weak.
He pushed himself off of the wall and walked out of the room. His teammates fell silent for a beat and he felt their eyes on him but he didn't meet any of their eyes. Couldn't. Because as much as he wanted to be a part of the team and let them have his back, he didn't trust them. They were so young and they had their own demons to slay so it would simply be too unfair to burden them with his issues too.
And not like they would get it anyways. Not really. Because they knew what trust felt like, caring felt like. They knew where to try and find it when they needed it but he didn't.
It felt like he was blind and trying to find a color that he knew he couldn't see but still searching in vain hopes that maybe there would be some light, some wavelength of color he could detect.
He snorted and leaned against the door he had close behind him. He let his head hang down and the bangs flop over his eyes whilst he stared at the floor, glaring it but not seeing it.
He wanted to snap out of it. For this yearn to feel good. To be warm. To relax and not every moment expect someone to stab him in the back or straight out spit on his face. He wanted to get rid of it. Because he didn't use to be like this, he used to be fine with the cold, hardly even noticing it and not loosing sleep over something he had never had and never seen.
But with the team he had seen it, noticed that he had been missing something vital and against his will was longing to have it.
He closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his eyelids. Slowly and barely noticing it he slid down, sitting on the floor back pressed against the door.
He would not cry. There was nothing to cry for.
There was nothing.
Half choked snort escaped him and he lifted his face up, letting his head fall against the door and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling.
There was nothing.
So nothing was wrong.
Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment he pushed himself up from the floor. He changed into his jogging clothes.
Because even if he didn't feel like it, running would help. It would help keeping the others from thinking he was breaking.
It would keep himself from noticing how little he cared anymore. He could convince himself for some time longer that things mattered, that he was satisfied as long as his team succeeded and as long as he could chase the victory there is nothing else he wants.
He just hoped the victory wouldn't come this time around either. Because what purpose would he then had, what could he cling to then when the edge started looking too tempting. If there was nowhere to go anymore, nowhere to keep trying to push himself into, then he would just remain there.
He left the house and closed the door behind him. He walked to the road and only then started jogging.
He wanted to stop but he knew that once he did that there was no way to start moving again. So no matter how cold, how tired, he would keep going.
As long as he could.
As long as he could believe there might be something for him too. Maybe he could find it.
So he run.
Maybe.
Maybe writing is not for me anymore.
Maybe it will come back.
Time will tell.
Thanks in case you read the whole thing