Chapter 41
Thus Unbecoming
Tara stumbled and fell, her legs giving out, lungs surrendering. She couldn't move any longer, slinking herself sideways and onto her back, sprawled on the scorching surface beneath. And yet, even the scalding pain of the burning skin couldn't jostle her. It was impossible–beyond impossible to keep up with him. For every one step he took, they had to take ten; for every breath he took, they had to take fifty; and, as the day progressed, it only ever got worse.
Ronald had already stayed behind when Elijah collapsed, and try as she may, she was unable to keep up with his shadow–and before she even knew it… he was gone. Anger, bitterness, shame… all things coalesced inside of her and she could only bite her lips, frustrated. She was supposed to be superhuman and wasn't supposed to feel so… limited. And yet, she was.
It took her almost twenty minutes to sit back up and reach into her inventory, gulping down two bottles of water in one go. The Tara-shaped stain of sweat below vanished in less than a minute, singing the tune of the world that didn't care for her suffering. Nobody did, she realised.
Standing up, she didn't go on to chase after Ethan–in small part because she had no clue where he went, but in a much larger one because she simply didn't want to–and instead turned back and walked toward Ronald and Elijah. She found them in a much smaller variant of the tent they used outside their temporary base, huddled in the shade, drinking water by gallons.
"Gone?" Ronald asked as she entered the tent.
"Gone," she shrugged, sitting down and wiping off her forehead. She'd already stripped herself down to the sports bra and shorts and would have taken off those two as well had she not known it would likely kill poor Elijah. "How are you, E'?" she asked the young boy who had hastily put on a shirt when she entered the tent.
"Better. I'm so sorry for that. I promise I'll do better!" his cheeks were red, though whether that was due to the excessive heat or embarrassment was uncertain.
"Meh, don't worry about it," Tara shrugged indifferently. "I barely held on longer than you and that's 'cause I wanted to spite that bastard."
"..." Elijah smiled in gratitude, lowering his head, and turning silent.
"So, you think he'll hold another one of his lectures when he comes back?" Ronald asked.
"Ah, who gives a rat's ass?" Tara grumbled. "It's so fucking unfair. I get that he's in a hurry to go back because of Layla but, fuck, why drag us along? Just to show off?"
"... probably to show us the standard," Ronald said. "It's like he's saying 'if you can't keep up even with this, what's the point'?"
"Can anybody? Can anybody keep up with this shit? Hell no. Show me those legendary marathon runners and I'll show you poor schmucks who would have died by the 10th mile."
"..." Ronald stayed silent. He was frustrated, too–just like Tara–but, beyond frustration, Tara was angry. But she wasn't angry with Ethan–she was angry with herself. Angry that she couldn't keep up. It was similar to how when a small-town clever kid goes to a big university, all the confidence comes crumbling down. In some ways, Ronald was the same; though they both knew they were much, much weaker than Ethan, there were parts of them that believed they could keep up with him at the borderline. But they couldn't. Not even close.
The conversation died completely as everyone turned to their thoughts. They'd occasionally peek outside the tent to see whether there were any monsters nearby and when they saw that there weren't, they'd come back in, drink some more water, and try to ignore the scalding temperatures. Bitterness and anger and shame and disappointment swelled inside their hearts, varying combinations and sizes, thumping as loudly as any conversation could.
They were shaken from their stupor about eight hours later when the flaps of the tent parted. Their eyes opened to the sight of Ethan looking at them emptily, his gaze lingering for a moment on Elijah.
"Let's go," he said and turned around, leaving. The trio hurriedly packed up and followed in short-lived silence, one broken by Tara.
"What Level did you reach?" she asked.
"Twelve," Ethan replied.
"Nice. How many monsters did you kill?"
"Eighty-three."
"..." she swallowed her words as she heard the number. She hurriedly checked it on the status window and confirmed–127/350. She bit her lower lip and curled her fingers into a fist in frustration. They were useless–wholly useless.
The silence was heavy as they returned to the base, with Tara and Ronald disappearing into the underground chambers immediately. Ethan stayed behind and fixed himself a dinner with Elijah standing to the side inside the tent, always on the cusps of saying something yet never parting his lips to let the words out.
"You hungry?" Ethan asked.
"..." Elijah nodded unconsciously as he saw the dancing, fried vegetables in the pan.
"What's eating away at you?" Ethan further probed as he quickly set out two plates for them on the table. Elijah sat down after Ethan, still uncertain-looking, but at least speaking.
"It was my fault," the boy said.
"What was?"
"That… that they fell behind."
"They fell behind because they couldn't keep up," Ethan said. "Just as you."
"No, I–"
"This isn't high school, Elijah," Ethan interrupted. "You don't get extra credits for sticking up for your friends."
"..."
"What? Do you think I didn't know this would happen?"
"... you did."
"Of course I did," Ethan said.
"And you… don't care?" the boy asked tentatively.
"I don't care," Ethan confirmed, nodding. "In different circumstances, I might have cared. Does it bother you?"
"..."
"What? You suddenly lost your voice?"
"You… you don't have to be an asshole about it," Elijah mumbled in a barely audible whisper, fiddling with his spoon.
"Am I being an asshole, though?" Ethan chuckled lightly. "I didn't say anything, did I? I didn't yell, demean, or mock you guys."
"..." he was right, Elijah realised. Ethan didn't really say anything–while the comment of 'I don't care' did sting, it was also understandable to some degree.
"Insecurities are often invisible," Ethan added, finishing his plate. "They fester and infect every inch of your personality without you even realising it. Those two–Tara especially–are becoming… dangerously dependent on my validation. Saying nothing is not good enough–they need reassurance. Are you like them, Elijah? Because I don't think you are."
"..."
"You look tired," Ethan said. "Go rest. They'll need you tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Because it will be much worse than today," Ethan said. "Don't let them rattle their brains too much. This will be your role, Elijah. I can't be their bedrock. I don't want to be their bedrock. Or anyone else's, for that matter. But it's in human nature to look at the light shining the brightest and try to emulate it. However, that will be impossible. For them, for you, and for everyone in the future. Call it your very generic narcissism, but there will be neither a man nor a woman in this world who will ever be stronger than me while I breathe. And I will not hold myself back for the sake of shaky egos. Become that safety net that lets them bounce back when reality catches up to them.
"It's a tall order," Ethan added as he ruffled the young boy's hair. "And probably more than what you bargained for when you said 'Yes' to me that day. And maybe there's a part of you that wants to throw his hands up in the air and go back home… but I can't allow that."
"... would you kill me? If I wanted to go back?" Elijah asked, looking up at Ethan's gaze directly.
"I would," Ethan nodded, not a notch of guilt or shame or pain in either his gaze or his voice. "I'm fond of you, Elijah, as I'm fond of those two kids. But don't mistake my slight fondness for care or love; none of you, and nobody else, will ever become more important than Layla or my goals. Though, never say never, I suppose. The human mind is… unpredictable, that way. Go, now. Rest."
"... you're a better person than you think you are, Ethan," Elijah stopped halfway through exiting the tent and looked back at Ethan, speaking softly though confidently. "Maybe all of your good is focused on Layla, but it doesn't matter. It's there. It's more than most have."
"You're making the same mistake they are, kiddo," Ethan smiled faintly at the kid. "Don't make a hero out of me. It will never end well for either one of us."
Elijah sped out of the tent and down the angled tunnel into the chamber. Tara wasn't asleep–she was awake… sobbing. Her shoulders danced and though her back was turned to him, and though she pretended nothing was happening… Elijah could feel it, even in the dark. She heard it all–perhaps because Ethan designed it that way, perhaps by sheer accident… but she heard it. He felt bitter, but only for a moment. Rather than asking her about it, he simply lay down on the other side of the earthly pillar and closed his eyes. He let her sob in peace and quiet, quelling her demons the best she could.
He'd forgotten, too, for a moment that both she and Ronald were just barely older than him–just three years. Even if, in his eyes, they were grown-up adults, there were layers to it. Just as he wanted to cry whenever the bullies at the base would call him names and mock him and make fun of his sister, neither Tara nor Ronald were invulnerable to pain. Savanna's fire burned and hurt, but it was a cooling aid in comparison to a broken heart.