07-15-2023, 09:07 AM
[[continued from Lyaeus]]
His feet led him to the church, not to home. Zeke was entertaining a gaggle of children in the crumbling, weed-sprouted courtyard, and his dark eyes glanced up in curiosity as Raffe passed, but he did not follow. Some of the women fussed when he entered the cool dark chamber inside. Raffe assumed it meant he looked like he’d dug himself up from the centre of the world, which wasn’t far off what he felt like. So when he was offered a blanket and a space to lay down, he curled up and promptly fell asleep.
By the time he woke, the slants of light from the stained glass windows were fading into dusk and dust. He ate companionably amongst the refugees, but was unusually silent despite the easy way they included him. Life felt like sleep-walking, as though he couldn’t quite work out how to rouse himself from hazy dreaming. Half-asleep or maybe half-drowning. He rubbed his face several times, considered laying back down. He didn’t feel ill, was neither burning hot nor sweating, but he’d never felt so hollowed-out exhausted. Maybe that was to be expected. Maybe Paragon had even said something about recovery expectations. He couldn’t remember. But he knew he’d nearly died. It just didn’t seem as horrific as maybe it should.
Zeke found him the steps gone midnight. Raffe accepted the joint from his fingers wordlessly, and for a while they only sat in silence. Kallisti would be in full swing by now, all glitter and tease. He should have called Carmen, but he didn’t; partly because he realised he didn’t have a phone with which to make the call, and partly because he found he did not know what to say. Though of course, there was another reason for his reluctance.
“I’m not good at dealing with problems,” he confided eventually, watching the smoke billow from his mouth. His shoulders loosened. Bury them, run from them, let them weigh heavy upon his soul. It's not like he knew how to change. Zeke looked at him from the corner of his eye. Maybe there was the hint of a smile. But he said nothing. And Raffe was good with that.
He left in the early hours. Just walked the streets like a vagrant, until he forced himself to take the familiar paths to the club. Silent by now of course, even the performers gone home. It was dark inside. Raffe poured himself a shot, downed it, and sat with another at the bar until the room lightened around him. Did it feel like home anymore? He didn’t know, and he wondered if all his feelings were just locked away somewhere behind glass, like Paragon had kept them. He’d slept away most of the day, and could still close his eyes. Maybe that was all he needed.
He didn’t know what the time was, but he didn’t need to switch on the lights to guide his way up the stairs; there was enough by now to see by. Each footstep echoed hollow and tired. His gaze barely rose, so it was only chance that landed his attention on the figure huddled in Nox’s doorway. And maybe the muffled sounds of sobbing. For an awful moment he considered just heading to his room; he wasn’t sure the other man even realised he was there at first. But he didn’t, he just stood limned in the glow of dawn.
His feet led him to the church, not to home. Zeke was entertaining a gaggle of children in the crumbling, weed-sprouted courtyard, and his dark eyes glanced up in curiosity as Raffe passed, but he did not follow. Some of the women fussed when he entered the cool dark chamber inside. Raffe assumed it meant he looked like he’d dug himself up from the centre of the world, which wasn’t far off what he felt like. So when he was offered a blanket and a space to lay down, he curled up and promptly fell asleep.
By the time he woke, the slants of light from the stained glass windows were fading into dusk and dust. He ate companionably amongst the refugees, but was unusually silent despite the easy way they included him. Life felt like sleep-walking, as though he couldn’t quite work out how to rouse himself from hazy dreaming. Half-asleep or maybe half-drowning. He rubbed his face several times, considered laying back down. He didn’t feel ill, was neither burning hot nor sweating, but he’d never felt so hollowed-out exhausted. Maybe that was to be expected. Maybe Paragon had even said something about recovery expectations. He couldn’t remember. But he knew he’d nearly died. It just didn’t seem as horrific as maybe it should.
Zeke found him the steps gone midnight. Raffe accepted the joint from his fingers wordlessly, and for a while they only sat in silence. Kallisti would be in full swing by now, all glitter and tease. He should have called Carmen, but he didn’t; partly because he realised he didn’t have a phone with which to make the call, and partly because he found he did not know what to say. Though of course, there was another reason for his reluctance.
“I’m not good at dealing with problems,” he confided eventually, watching the smoke billow from his mouth. His shoulders loosened. Bury them, run from them, let them weigh heavy upon his soul. It's not like he knew how to change. Zeke looked at him from the corner of his eye. Maybe there was the hint of a smile. But he said nothing. And Raffe was good with that.
He left in the early hours. Just walked the streets like a vagrant, until he forced himself to take the familiar paths to the club. Silent by now of course, even the performers gone home. It was dark inside. Raffe poured himself a shot, downed it, and sat with another at the bar until the room lightened around him. Did it feel like home anymore? He didn’t know, and he wondered if all his feelings were just locked away somewhere behind glass, like Paragon had kept them. He’d slept away most of the day, and could still close his eyes. Maybe that was all he needed.
He didn’t know what the time was, but he didn’t need to switch on the lights to guide his way up the stairs; there was enough by now to see by. Each footstep echoed hollow and tired. His gaze barely rose, so it was only chance that landed his attention on the figure huddled in Nox’s doorway. And maybe the muffled sounds of sobbing. For an awful moment he considered just heading to his room; he wasn’t sure the other man even realised he was there at first. But he didn’t, he just stood limned in the glow of dawn.
![[Image: Raffe-banner--scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/Raffe-banner--scaled.jpg)