Young Writers Society

I'm sure it's easier to not let your past define you if you can erase the pain of it.

James hated that that was his immediate thought. He understood why Evaline did it. It made complete logical sense that she would. She hadn't thought he was real, and he wouldn't have thought he was real if he was in her shoes. And yet, he couldn't help but feel cheated in some way.

It wasn't that he expected things to go back to the way they were. He'd just hoped...

Well, that was his first mistake. Hoping.

Maybe it was better this way. He could keep her at a distance, now, and he had a better excuse for it. It wasn't like she remembered their talks about being honest and open with each other as something more than friends. It wasn't like she remembered the moments that mattered the most. She wouldn't expect him to be honest. She wouldn't require it of him.

He could just drift like a piece of wood getting caught under the sea foam.

Perhaps, your past didn't have to define you if you considered it disposable.

"I'm glad you seem to have found freedom from your past," he said emptily.

He stared towards the horizon, searching for words that didn't sound bitter, or hostile, or hopeless, or "edgy." Nothing came. His next words felt hollow.

"And you're right. Our pasts don't have to define us. But they will always be a part of our story."

Evaline wanted to have meaningful conversation, but she was starting to regret selecting this topic in particular. She was fully aware of how her stance was personal, and hearing James blankly say his reply made her think that he was thinking that too.

He was right. The past will always be part of who you are.

And that was the reason why she had to be this way.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "I'm a hypocrite."

But I've already told you that before.

She should just say what was likely on both of their minds. She was more prepared now. Just say it.

"And if you're referencing what happened between us..." she said slowly and neutrally, her stare focused on the horizon. "Of course I can remember the overview of what happened. And I know you want to talk about it."

Evaline felt some of the anxiety start to return, but it was controllable because she had control of the situation. It wasn't James suddenly bringing this up without her knowing.

"And we will. Just not now."

Just give me more time. I don't know how much more time. Just give me more time.

"I hope that's okay," she added on as a last touch, still staring at the sea meeting the night sky.

James could feel the walls of his heart reach higher and higher. He still didn't look at her.

"It's okay," James said quietly. Then his eyes dropped to the ground.

"We're both hypocrites."

Evaline took a deep breath of relief when he said it was okay. She didn't have to think about that anymore for now.

"Well," she said wearily. "We can also add that to the list of things that has changed."

The small wistful smile that came to James's face was automatic. It was as if his mind generated the reaction on command, like that was the reaction expected of him, but he didn't actually feel like smiling. And yet, he did. Briefly. He killed the smile a second after.

"I'm also funnier," he said with no expression whatsoever. "Write that one down too."

Evaline huffed an amused puff of hair through her nose, but she still didn't focus her attention to James. They were standing next to each other in front of a serene view, and she didn't think she needed to fail to read his expression again.

"Yeah," she said with his same tone. "You're hilarious."

"My best jokes are situational, unfortunately, so I can't prove to you my objective hilarity until the perfect opportunity and inspiration strikes. So you'll just have to take my word for it," he said.

Evaline was about to retort back, but her thought were interrupted when she heard a familiar quiet bird-like screech, sounding muffled and coming from James.

Confused, she finally looked back at him, noting how the blue light shined on his skin.

"Is that supposed to be a start of a weird joke?" she asked.

James blinked slowly, glancing down at himself in search of the source of the sound. He was quickly doing the math. Bird screech. He was covered in little birds earlier. He must’ve missed one.

It seemed the sound came from the chest pocket on his jacket. He gingerly propped it open with two fingers, peeking in. Faintly, he could see a tiny shadow moving. Were his eyesight more keen, he had a feeling he would see clearlt it was one of the birds.

He slowly dipped his hand in the pocket, and his fingers brushed against tiny little feathers.

The bird screeched again.

He scooped it up in his hand and pulled it out of his pocket, still holding the bird carefully, like it was made of glass. He held it out in front of him and it rolled into the center of his palm.

One of its wings looked like it was stuck half-folded.

James felt his heart sink.

“I missed one,” he said quietly.

Evaline watched as James pulled out a small bird -- bumblebirds, as she liked to call them -- out of his pocket to hold in his palm. She stated at the little guy roll, but didn't lean in enough to get that good of a look at it.

"That's okay," she assured him. "It happens."

It was just one bird, but she treasured all living life, and she knew the little guy wouldn't survive without the pack. They couldn't just dump it in the wilderness. She silently sighed.

"He wouldn't survive out here alone," she said. "We'd have to do some backtracking... not necessarily to the same spot at before, but any tree with a nest."

She sat on that thought for a little bit. It would delay their arrival to Terra some more.

James lifted his hand a little closer to his face, inspecting the tiny bumblebird. It seemed to be stumbling around on its stubby feet, but it made no moves to fly away. In fact, it looked like it couldn't.

"...Its hurt," James said, watching as the bird leaned on the side of its bent wing and screeched in what James now recognized as a pained cry. "Its wing is broken."

Evaline stared at the little bird tilt on its side, hearing it screech out louder than normal, possibly out of pain. She scrunched her brows together in worry.

"Their wings are their most vulnerable part, but they're otherwise very durable. It's a shame..."

She glanced behind her, back towards the sandy hill where they came from. By itself, the bird wouldn't be able to survive in the wild. But with their hive, they could forage and protect themselves. She didn't want to suggest to go all the way back for one small bird with a broken wing, but she didn't want to suggest holding on to it until they found another hive. Letting it go in the wilderness by itself without any trees wasn't even an option worth considering.

"It's not your fault," she decided to say instead, having a sliver of a feeling that James was casting blame on himself. "You didn't know it was still on you."

James knew they couldn't bring the bird back to its home, and it wouldn't survive with a broken wing. He'd already made up his mind.

"I'll take care of it," he said quietly. It was his fault it was hurt. Gently, he reached out the tip of his pointer finger and brushed the back of the bird's head. It squeaked sadly.

Evaline watched James pet the bird for a few moments, wondering if he wanted to take care of it out of guilt or because he wanted a pet. Maybe both.

"Well, okay," she said. "I have a connection to someone who knows more about the animals. I can radio them later to ask about the healing process."

Her gaze traveled from the bird to James's face, noting the slight tender look on his face as he petted the bird.

"Thank you," James said simply, continuing to gently stroke the bird's head rhythmically. The repetition seemed to be calming it down, and it squeaked wearily before leaning into his finger and curling up in his palm.