Season VI
Day V
"At What Price?"
Yosif stares at the blank screen with unmoving tears. The room hasn't moved save for the breaths shared between himself and the contestant asleep beside him. Antony's eyes have been closed for what feels like hours. This is their arrangement, every other night earns sleep. Tomorrow it would be Yosif's turn. Tomorrow, Antony would watch over him just like this.
Except Yosif's promised himself that tomorrow will be different.
Yosif closes his eyes, trying for the third night in a row to convince himself that it doesn't have to be this way. This arrangement works. He trusts Antony as much as anyone can trust another person in a place like this. The brown-haired boy hasn't done anything to suggest he might turn on him. In fact, his tired smiles have been as bright as they had been before all of this. Days ago, Yosif would have called him his friend. His mind still tries.
That's far too dangerous now. It's been five days and there are only so many left to count. Past seasons haven't lasted more than ten but, with only six contestants remaining, getting that far is unlikely. The game is going to end. Only one of them will be standing by then, if they're lucky.
It has to be him. It has to be.
Tears fall silently down his cheeks as Yosif turns towards the sleeping figure. He's afraid to move, afraid to breathe too loudly for fear of waking him. If his eyes open, if Yosif has to look into those almond eyes that have done nothing but watch his back, he won't be able to go through with this. He knows he has no other option. No one else will be this kind. Antony doesn't deserve to suffer.
He doesn't deserve to die. Yosif's face scrunches and one hand lifts to stop the building sobs from breaking through. He knows this is wrong. He knows it. He could sit here and pretend that Antony might do the same, but he doesn't believe that. They've talked about what will happen if they make it to the finale. A fair fight - that's what they've promised each other. May the best man win.
Except Yosif won't win. Well, he can't be sure, there are a hundred factors, but also a hundred ways it could go wrong for him. Antony is taller, stronger; he has everything it takes to win this competition and that's why Yosif has to make sure that he doesn't get the chance. The only flaw Antony has is his golden heart, the very thing that gives Yosif the advantage now.
It's selfish, he knows it's selfish. He can't afford to be anything else.
The spear is already in his hand when he looks down. It only takes a moment to turn its point in the right direction. A moment to line it up with the center of Antony's throat. A moment to feel the tip of the spear hit the ground and watch the blood gush from behind his skin.
Much longer to pry himself off the ground, to get the guilt-ridden tears to stop flowing, to force himself to look up and see what he can't believe that he actually did. He never imagined he could kill someone. He never imagined he would know that someone's name and think that, in another life, they would have actually been friends.
I need to go home, Yosif begs silently, staring at the blood pool growing between them. But at what price?