The Fateful Heart 2

Evaline paused, and it hit her all at once that she so nonchalantly said those words out loud. She found her hands clamming up as her head ached from lack of nutrients and stress.

"I..." she began, trying to focus and filter her words. She couldn't bring herself to meet James's gaze.

"I didn't either," she said in a low voice.

For a moment, James had a pang of doubt. Not that Evaline was genuine, or that she meant what she said, but that any of this conversation was real in the first place.

Was he asleep right now? Was this a dream? It felt too real to be a dream, and yet, the past few days had blurred together so seamlessly that he wasn't even quite sure what had happened between them, apart from hunger and pain.

"I don't want you to go either," he said. Whatever filter he once had on his words was gone. He wasn't thinking about it anymore.

"I wanted to ask you to stay, but I was too afraid too."

Evaline repeated James's words over and over in her mind, hoping that they would jolt her awake from this false reality. She—they—were so exhausted. They just argued and the air still felt tense after he spilled things about his life that she didn't know about. And now? Now they both confessed that—?

Her body and mind seemed to lag in response, and she was far too occupied by the reality of the situation to think about what to say and thereby cause any uncomfortable silences.

"I wished you'd just asked me," she said softly. "Or told me that."

The answer was right in front of her—James wanted her to stay and truly meant that she could stay indefinitely—but it was too big of a thought to absorb. She wasn't sure she had the energy capacity to fully come to terms with that idea yet.

"I'm sorry," he said. Any warnings about apologies he'd forgotten. His mind was like a dying flame eating at the ashes.

"I wanted to. I did. I was just afraid it would scare you off. Like you said before - we barely know each other. I didn't want you to feel obligated to stay with someone you hardly know y-yet. And I didn't think you'd want to stay if life with me would look like this."

And by this, he knew she knew what he meant.

Hungry. Tired. Struggling.

Evaline wanted to sit up, get up, and sit down next to him and just stay there in silence, thinking about their words to figure out what they really meant.

But instead she continued talking without pause and without filter.

"James," she began, voice steady and stern, like she was trying to dissuade his self-conscious thoughts.

"I meant it when I said the past months together have given me time to heal. And I think, part of the reason, is because of you."

She had something else to say, but she had to pause to wait for it to fall out.

"I'll take a life with you over the life I had, any day."

There it was.

Either that meant her life at home was really that terrible, or she really did enjoy being with him.

Maybe it was both. James didn't know. He could feel his eyes stinging, but he was too dehydrated to even cry.

"I hope I won't disappoint you," he rasped.

Evaline should have felt overwhelmed with anxiety and nerves. She had felt more overwhelmed with less weighted topics before, so this should have felt like a thousand bricks weighing down on her.

But it didn't.

And she didn't want to know why, or cared to. She just kept going, not wanting this conversation to stop and die off like the others.

"You haven't," she said, voice soft and gentle.

Even with her unsorted thoughts, she knew what she wanted to say next. The guilt kept seeping in.

"I'm sorry if you thought I did. I didn't mean those words." She took a silent deep breath out. "I didn't... mean the words I said earlier, when we... argued."

"But you weren't wrong," James said, feeling his eyes grow puffy like they wanted to water but couldn't. "I do pity myself. I always have. I just get caught in this cycle and I don't know how to stop, so I just ignore it, but it's always there. I've always been weak. Too weak and too scared to face my family again. Too weak and too scared to run back into the kingdom with a plan. Too weak and too scared to make a difference. I keep trying to pretend I'm not but Car--"

He pursed his lips together into a frown and snapped his eyes shut. He tried to roll onto his side, so he could turn his whole body away and hide, but he only attempted to lift his shoulder before grunting and giving up.

"I'm making it all about me again," he muttered, barely intelligible. "I'm sorry."

Evaline listened intently, and a part of James's ramble struck a chord in her. When at a point of breaking down, she would also unsteadily say every thought she was thinking that ate away at her, even if she didn't want to. It was strange hearing James like this too.

She let a small silence pass after his apology, and slowly, she sat up and started to crawl across the small cave, sitting next to him, about a foot away from his head. She leaned back against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest and staring at the empty wall in front of her.

Being next to him felt more... right. Or maybe this was her inner desire for physical intimacy when she didn't know how to cope. Or maybe it just felt easier to be on the same side since they'd have to turn to see each other instead of looking across.

She tried to think of what to say. It was hard.

"I wish I can tell you something that'll help," she finally said. "But I just, I don't have advice."

She lightly furrowed her brows, focusing on the still space in front of her, trying to think with her foggy, aching head.

"I was like you, once. Scared, weak, self-pitying. I'm not anymore, but if I could go back—if I had the choice—I would take the path you're following. A... journey. Self-discovery. Something you figure out yourself."

She sighed. "I don't know. I know it's probably not easy, but I do think... I think you're doing the best you can. The best you can do."

James turned his head so that he could look up at her, and he couldn't help but feel small. Lying on the ground, looking up.

"I am trying," he said, looking at her with tired, but sincere eyes. "I just don't know if it's worth it anymore."

Evaline spent a few seconds to think before letting out the spillage of thoughts again.

"Worth... what?" she asked carefully.

tw: suicidal ideation

Spoiler

James took in a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes.

The word that followed was barely audible over the howling winds outside.

"Living."

There was a long ensuing pause that followed after James's one-word response, but it wasn't awkward, and it wasn't tense.

It was sad.

This was another subject where they differed. Despite everything Evaline had gone though, she had always, always been motivated by her will to survive. She was afraid of death and would do everything that was possible to keep on going. Keep on living.

She had never questioned her will to live. At least, not that she remembered.

And because of that, Evaline didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if there was anything to say. She wasn't the best at comforting others, and she certainly wasn't prepared to deal with this.

"I'm glad you're alive," she finally said, trying to fill the silence with something. "And I'm glad you're here."

It made sense, now. His selflessness. His desire to put others in front of himself.

It ran deeper than his admiration for his father.

James felt his eyes start to sting, and though tears didn’t quite come, his vision started to glaze over.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice cracking.

It felt wrong to end the conversation here, and it felt wrong to switch topics altogether. His confession seemed to hang in the air, lingering between them.

Evaline wanted to say something to make the words fade away, but she didn't know what. She didn't have the energy to think of something meaningful, either.

So instead she tried to think of something he'd want to hear. If this were her, she wouldn't need to hear words of affirmation, but maybe James did. Maybe. She didn't know.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone as selfless, or patient, or as kind as you are," she said, not caring if the compliments sounded insincere since they were a projectile of thoughts escaping her mouth.

"Like I said, you could have turned out to be a mean, bitter person. But you aren't. And I think that means something. Even if..."

She decided to end that sentence there, switching thought processes instead.

"I guess what I'm saying is, I admire you, sometimes. You still have aspirations, and ideals, and integrity, despite... you know. And that's... admirable."

She gave one small nod, still gazing out in front of her.

"I admire you."

She repeated that last sentence mostly to herself, because it was strange to say out loud, saying she admired someone.