Freezing. A familiar feeling.

Apollo curled in further, clutching the comforter in his shaking hands. Chills crawled up and down his spine. He couldn't stop shivering.

I'm still here.

What a strange thought. His mind felt muted.

"Just sleep, just sleep, just sleep…"

Someone was nearby.

The desperate murmuring sounded more like a wish than a directive. He cracked his eyes open, finding himself pressed against something gray. The texture was…recognizable. It lifted some of the haze.

"Come on, kid. Please be asleep."

Ah.

Of course it's you.

Mr. Wright was lying right beside him. Gentle arms wrapped around his thin frame, holding him tight. It was almost like he was a miserable child, starved of comfort and attention.

Apollo sighed. In a better state of mind, he would've shifted away. Today, though…

A dim memory sparked in his muddled brain. Dhurke used to do this too, when he was young. Every time he fell sick, he'd be cocooned in that huge jacket, bundled in blankets, and held until the illness had passed.

The cloth was so soft. If only he could drift off instead of suffer.

Selfish, wasn't he?

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm sorry…"

"I know, I know," Phoenix hushed. The man restrained his wrist, pressing two fingers against his veins. "It's okay. You're fine. You're fine, okay?"

He was too weak to protest. Phoenix seemed relieved when he nodded.

"Oh, thank god," Mr. Wright said, drawing him closer. Apollo had seen him tense up before, but never like this. "Tell me about the river. Remember the river?"

The river?

"I…told you?" he questioned. That didn't seem right.

"You mentioned it."

Something was off. His focus was dwindling. Was this another dream?

It has to be.

He'd rather swallow his tongue than share something so personal. Hell, even Clay didn't know what he'd gone through back then. And with Mr. Wright here…no, this couldn't be real. Maybe he'd forgotten what Dhurke looked like, and replaced him with the next best thing.

Another mentor. A father figure—

I have too many issues.

True.

"Next time…let me die," he said.

The look on not-Phoenix's face all but confirmed that this was a figment of his imagination. No signs of shock or horror at the statement…rather, all that was left was sheer, crushing regret.

"I won't. Stop saying things like that."

Apollo wanted to laugh. Even in dreams, he was trapped. He searched for ways to detach himself, hoping to succumb to the nothingness again.

Instead, he was struck by a nauseating vision. Water surrounding him…words stolen away…

The sensation was unmistakable.

Was I…drowning?

"You win," he conceded. The hallucination was right—he shouldn't say things like that. Fragile memories threatened to break him. After all, how many times could he watch himself—?

His muscles grew rigid.

Forget it.

"Moving on, then," Mr. Wright rushed, capturing his attention again. "Why don't you ask me things? Whatever you want. How does that sound?"

It was a tempting offer. Or at least, an entertaining one. Apollo shrugged.

"Sure…"

"Great! Ask away."

Mr. Wright's enthusiasm was…weird. The man's confident façade was laced with a frantic undertone. On top of that, Phoenix never gave up information willingly—typically, he'd offer an obscure tidbit or a vague suggestion, and expect Apollo to decipher its meaning.

Whatever. This was a dream, anyway.

…what did people even talk about in dreams?

"How…was…your day?" Apollo asked, and rather lamely at that. It was the most standard question in the universe, but he didn't know where else to begin.

Phoenix seemed amused. "You're really, really out of it, huh?"

Might as well agree. Even without the delusions, Apollo doubted he'd be the pinnacle of sanity. "I guess…"

"Well, since you're curious…it's been a little stressful," Mr. Wright said. A hint of uneasiness seeped into his tone. "Nothing for you to worry about, though. You just relax."

"Stressful?"

The word tasted sour in Apollo's mouth. Before he could process what it meant, Phoenix patted his head, hoping to reassure him.

"I was just kidding," the man revised, "Relax, alright?"

Any time Mr. Wright told him to "relax", it meant that something major had happened.

And, as usual, it was being hidden away.

"You won't…tell me?" Apollo pressed.

"Maybe in a bit."

"You said…I could ask…"

"You're right, but—"

"Then say it."

A pause. Then…

"Look, Apollo…let's talk about this later. I swear, I'll share anything else—"

Three seconds in. Yet another secret.

He hated feeling helpless.

"Why won't you…ever…?" Apollo snapped, giving in to his frustration. Despite his fiery start, he couldn't get through the sentence.

Don't say it.

Phoenix gave him a slight shake. "Ever what? I'll answer it, I promise…"

Don't say it, don't say it—

"…trust…me?"

Strained silence stretched between them.

His subconscious was screaming at him.

"Why won't I trust you?" Mr. Wright repeated. Apollo shrank back, wishing he'd resisted. He shouldn't know. Not like this. "I do. Now, I do."

Now.

An ugly implication. Too bitter to contain. He bit back the pain and forced himself to rifle through the past, dragging out that age-old argument yet again.

"So you didn't, when…when you…accused me…"

"And it was one of the worst mistakes I've ever made," Phoenix admitted. "I had reasons, Apollo—"

"Not good enough."

"I—"

"Should've just…talked."

He said it under his breath, but he wasn't quiet enough. Resentment held far too much weight.

Phoenix sighed, brushing his face.

"You're right, kid. You're right."

Apollo leaned into the touch, letting Mr. Wright slick back strands of hair from his forehead. It was refreshing. Sort of like the way Dhurke would ruffle him up after he ran back from the hills, welcoming him home. Or how Kristoph would smooth over his style when he stayed late at the office, letting him rest.

Simpler times. He thought he'd forgotten what familial affection felt like. It was nice that he could experience it in a dream, without the overwhelming pressures of reality.

He wished they'd never fought. If only Mr. Wright had reached out to him…

What about the voicemail, then?

That didn't count.

And at the hospital, he wanted to explain it all.

No one was ready for that.

When we first argued…I walked away…

Which was justified, by the way—

No, it wasn't.

This was a pattern.

"I'm being unfair," Apollo realized.

All of a sudden, the world sharpened around him. His heavy head. The blood on his lips. His breaths, cut short—torn lungs, struggling to keep up. A veritable punishment.

"You have a point," Phoenix said. "I was worried about you from the start. If I spoke to you first—"

"You tried to. I…I cut you off." Apollo stared at his pallid skin, feeling like he was covered in writhing viscera. "I blamed you…"

He'd been avoiding everything.

Truly sickening.

How could they ever speak, if he refused to say anything? Mr. Wright had made mistakes, but he was the one who had escalated things. Distancing himself was never meant to be a solution—it was a pure, ruthless defense mechanism, ripping away anyone who came too close.

Perpetual loneliness. That's what Kristoph had said.

I caused this.

"Let's not think about that right now," Phoenix urged. "Everything's fine."

The immense guilt was paralyzing. Apollo remained still, unable to tear himself out of the dream. He could feel the fear within him, now, and it was unbearable.

Just like before…

"I was afraid," he said.

"That's okay—"

"No. That's…what I was hiding." Apollo's throat closed up. He waited a moment, trying to keep his composure. "I was so afraid…about the prison escape. About…him…"

The more he faced it, the more his faults emerged. How foolish of him…waxing poetic about trust and blame while he buried his vulnerabilities from sight, creating an eternal guessing game. Besides, what did he even expect? That Phoenix would roll some dice, pinpoint his emotions, and somehow comprehend everything?

"I misunderstood," Mr. Wright insisted. "It was my fault."

Apollo shook his head. "I never…told you…"

"I know, shhh."

Mr. Wright leaned away, seeming wholly uninterested in their discussion. Perhaps this was it—the final thread of the man's unconditional kindness, unravelling at last.

What comes after that?

Nothing. There would be nothing left. It'd be pointless to carry on. The only path forward would be…abandonment…

Ice dug into Apollo's spine.

"Don't go," he begged. He didn't have the strength to grasp Phoenix's outstretched arm, but he reached up, nonetheless. He'd never forget if a dream ended like this…it was too hopeless, too vivid…

"I won't," Mr. Wright reassured.

"I'm serious…"

"I can tell."

"Just…don't…leave…"

Apollo's breath caught in his throat. Time slowed. He closed his eyes, resigning himself to hell.

"Hey, breathe," Phoenix said, resting a cool palm against his forehead.

Gentle. Familiar.

"Dad…please…"

Mr. Wright flinched.

"Oh no. Wait, it's not…I'm not—" Phoenix cut himself off, his fingers twitching. Such a slight nervous tic, yet Apollo always noticed— "This is bad. You're seeing things again."

Who was he supposed to see? Dhurke? Kristoph? His first father, buried in ash? When he looked up, only Mr. Wright was still there.

"It's you," Apollo said. "Mr…grape juice…"

His terrible joke was met with no acknowledgement at all. Eh, that was fair…lightening the mood was never his strong suit.

Phoenix grew pale, unable to process his words.

"Just—just a second," the man stammered. Apollo watched with dim fascination as Mr. Wright held up a cell phone, wondering where it had come from. "I need to check something."

Soft ringing echoed through the air. Phoenix raised the phone to his ear, looking so distraught that Apollo thought he was calling a funeral home at first.

Is he?

Possibly.

"Yeah, it's me," Mr. Wright said, lowering his voice. "How far are you? I'll call an ambulance if I need to—" A nervous glance. "He's getting worse. He's—okay. Be safe and hurry."

"Klavier?" Apollo guessed. Considering the complexity of his hallucinations, it made the most sense.

"Um…yes." Phoenix stared at him, clearly unnerved, but didn't ask him to elaborate. "He's ten minutes away. You definitely need a doctor."

"Sorry—"

"Don't be. Never apologize for that."

The sentiment was quick…almost automatic. A formality at most. Apollo slanted his gaze away, feeling ashamed.

"I must look pathetic," he said.

Honestly, it was just a fact. The way he'd acted—self-righteous, arrogant—repulsed him thoroughly.

"Is that what you're scared of?" Mr. Wright said. "That I'd judge you for this?"

Apollo fell quiet. Undeniable, wasn't it? So much so that it was almost a joke—he could feel himself trembling already, waiting to be cast aside—no, bracing himself for it…

"I deserve it," he said, voice falling to a whisper. "You should…hate me."

"I can't. You're like my son."

In the end, the silent truth emerged.

Despite everything, it still struck Apollo to his very core.

"I know you might not remember this, but you are," Phoenix continued, as if to reaffirm it once and for all. Apollo froze up.

Wright's son…Wright's son…Wright's son—

Ever since the beginning, that's what he'd been called.

"I've heard that before," he said. His chest ached at the admission, and he felt the urge to reach in and rip out his heart—

Phoenix frowned. "Right. Gavin—Kristoph must've told you."

Even amidst his own nightmarish panic, Apollo could tell how difficult it was for Mr. Wright to say that name. This wasn't even real, and yet…the remorse was palpable.

He's really trying.

…

I should, too.

"I need your advice," Apollo said. Watching Phoenix attempt to connect with him encouraged him to open up. "Can I…?"

"Go ahead," Mr. Wright said. Apollo dug his nails into his palms.

"Kristoph, he…he wanted me…to let go," he started.

Already, this was difficult. A conflicted expression crossed Phoenix's face. "That's…nice of him, I guess."

"So he died."

Realization sparked. Phoenix's eyes widened.

"That's why he…?" the man began, only to trail off. Apollo winced, feeling his skin burn.

I'm proud of you, Apollo.

Concrete. Crashing—

"I can't forget," he said, squeezing his eyes shut. "And now…I own his office…"

Tension gave way to calm as Mr. Wright swept through his hair, providing some sort of solace. For the first time in a long while, the gesture felt caring, not controlling.

"As much as I dislike Gavin…I know what he means," Phoenix confessed. There was a solemness to his tone that, for an instant, revealed his breadth of experience. "He doesn't want you to hold onto the past, kid. He wants you to grieve, and then…let it fade." The explanation was blunt, yet bittersweet. Phoenix grew more considerate. "You don't have to forget. Just don't hold on."

Apollo released his fists, noting the marks cast by his grasp. "That's tough…"

"It is. But you have time, and help."

Mr. Wright traced the scars on his right hand. They'd nearly healed.

Growth.

Without even noticing, he was starting to break free.

"Shadows…don't last forever," he acknowledged.

"They never have."

Kristoph was being kind.

"He was right," Apollo said. "He always was…about me."

Relief washed over him. He breathed, letting himself sink under the weight of it.

Perhaps this was true satisfaction, too.

"The office…" he murmured, fighting off his exhaustion. There was still a lot to think about, and he hadn't even covered the half of it…Trucy's letter, Klavier, and the deed he'd gotten… "I want to do something with it…"

Phoenix laughed, finally regaining some of his breeziness. "The only building you'll be dealing with right now is the hospital."

"No, I need to…solve this…"

"Let's try again when you're lucid."

"…lucid?"

Mr. Wright drew the covers over his mouth. "Go to sleep. Don't overthink."

Apollo pulled down the comforter, refusing to be muffled. "This…isn't a dream?"

"Well, no," Phoenix said. His smile faltered for a second, consumed by worry. "Are you upset?"

If he had the energy, Apollo had no doubt that he'd be stuck in three different layers of self-consciousness, detangling his anxiety bit by agonizing bit. Right now, though…he was completely drained.

Not only that, but he felt warm and safe.

"Actually…I'm glad," he said. "You really are like…my dad."

Phoenix ruffled his hair.

"Get some rest, kid. And make sure you remember that."