No more running

For once, I didn't look away.

It wasn't as hard as I'd expected it to be. In fact, facing things had become surprisingly easy from the moment I allowed myself to accept the truth: I'd been too egocentric by assuming everything was my responsibility.

But no, the weight of these crimes wasn't only mine to bear. It might sound like I was trying to shift the blame, but in fact I was recognizing that Rasbora was right. For better or for worse, I couldn't fix everything, which also meant I couldn't be blamed for everything.

"And accept that ya're allowed to forgive yourself."

…

Betta broke my jaw then pinned me down and started punching my face repeatedly.

It didn't hurt, and not only because I'd used my powers to cut off pain.

"Everything. Is. Your. Fault!"

She continued cussing at me, but I could see the cracks forming: the whine in her voice, the tremble in her eyes. Even her strikes were beginning to weaken, if only slightly.

This was fine. Let her exhaust herself, spit out all the poison she'd been holding inside—I myself had done the same with Rasbora.

Then, once she got tired and became a little more receptive, I could—

"Forget it," she murmured. "Enough. I'm going to end it all." She grabbed my head with both hands, and slowly started applying pressure.

Wait.

Betta.

You don't mean you're going to…

"S-stop." I tried to beg. At a different time, I might've been fine with this outcome, but not now—not anymore. More so because I knew…

"You'll regret this."

If she crushed my head and prevented my powers from healing me for long enough, I'd inevitably die, and Betta would have no one left to blame but herself. She'd go through the same things I did—a kind of misery where you felt you didn't even deserve to die.

But grabbing her hands and trying to resist was like pushing a building. She wouldn't budge, and I could hear my skull cracking little by little.

Stop it.

Don't do this… to yourself.

Please.

…

It stopped. The pressure crushing my head disappeared and warm, wet drops trickled on my face.

"I can't," Betta wept. "You're the last one I have left from that time. Don't you leave me too."

A feeble slap smeared the tears she'd dropped on my face. "Why can't you be at fault for everything? Don't you see I'm being crushed by too much crap already? You can't just go and throw more garbage on me."

Her head dropped down on my chest, where she sobbed in a way I'd never seen her before, not even when we lost Jacks.

I'd been stuck so deep in my own well I hadn't ever stopped to think how Betta was dealing with these disasters herself. Instead, I naively believed what I saw: the strongest woman I knew remaining strong no matter what befell her.

But in truth…

"You've been pretending too, haven't you?" Her response was to squeeze the ruined remains of my shirt. "Like me, you've been lying both to everyone else and to yourself for the past two years."

Head still buried in my chest, she nodded just a bit. "It got me so angry every time I noticed you lying…" She stopped to sniffle. "Because I'd be reminded of one of Jacks' daft word puzzles. Something about seeing a distorted mirror and insisting the crooked image was someone else."

"It must've been hard," I said with a smile she wouldn't see. The image of Rasbora saying that same thing came to my mind.

"You have no idea…" Among her sobs, I heard her click her tongue. "No. I guess you do know it well. You haven't had it easy either."

With the consideration one could expect from her, she wiped her face on what was left of my clothes then stood upright again, on top of me. Her reddened eyes and face, combined with her small frame, made her appear so… frail—a word I believed she could never embody.

"Listen, I…" She started, then looked away. "I treated you a little harsher than I should've, and maybe I didn't act quite right back when I tried to kill your pet. I don't know. We'll talk that out later, so don't distract me."

I haven't said anything.

"Point is, Corydorin… I'm sorry. I've been unfair. Wanted to blame you for everything 'cause I had my plate full of too much shit already. But that was wrong, and deep down I always knew it was."

An easy smile sprouted in me, natural as grass growing on healthy soil.

"I forgive you. We've both made some mistakes." And I forgive myself too. "Let's go back and clear everything up over some food and drinks. Enough lies and pretending. What do you think?"

Her mouth hung open, as did her eyes.

"Are you dumb? You can't forgive me just like that. Don't you want to at least give me back a punch or two?"

"I'm good, don't worry. At this point I have no more spite left for anybody." I'd spent most of it on myself. "My only wish is for things to work out for everyone."

"Always such a weirdo," she murmured. "Fine, let's go back and share this with Rasbora. I can't wait to see her reaction."

Yeah, that sounded like it would be a fun sight.

ᗢ⫘⫘⫘⫘𖦹⫘⫘⫘⫘♡

Night slowly fell upon us on our way back, the mist getting thicker as we neared the fort, until we were unable to see our own feet—yet getting lost wasn't a worry anymore.

When we arrived, several knights threw a few questions at us, wondering when we'd left and why. Betta ended all inquiries with a single "none of your business". It felt good to be back on friendly terms with her—she really knew how to make things simpler, and she was right that I often overcomplicated stuff.

The two of us entered the fort and went straight for the room assigned to Rasbora. After Betta knocked, the door was opened by a drowsy girl in her night gown—her half-closed eyes snapping open when they saw me next to Betta.

I gave her a timid wave. "Hey, sorry to wake you up."

"A-aye? Don't worry about it…" She looked from me to Betta, then back to me and finally her eyes settled on Betta. "Can I help ya two with something?"

"Cory and I have made up, somewhat."

Rasbora rubbed her eyes, then pinched her cheek.

"I ain't dreaming, aye."

Her face lit up like morning had come out of nowhere, and a hearty laugh burst out from the normally reserved girl. She jumped at the two of us in a sudden group hug, the abruptness of it squeezing a yelp out of Betta, and its warmth melting something deep in me.