Life has its ups and downs... and there are times when you fall deeper than hell.
Another week had passed, and since that kitchen conversation, Alex and Rolo's relationship had deteriorated spectacularly. I tried to get to the bottom of it, starting with Alex. The wolf just shrugged, his tail flicking lazily. "What are you talking about? We've never gotten along," he said, as if that explained everything.
When I approached Rolo, he didn't even bother to respond. He simply stood up and walked into another room, leaving me staring at the empty space he'd just vacated.
I decided they could figure it out themselves.
Turning to Ábel, I asked, "Do you want to go to town? It's about time you stopped wearing my clothes."
Ábel glanced down at the oversized sweater that hung on him like a blanket. The only thing that fit were the outgrown boots Alex had given him, which he'd stuffed with socks to keep from tripping. "But they're fine," he protested.
For the next half hour, Ábel tried to convince me he didn't need any new clothes. Finally, with a sigh, I grabbed him by the arm and hauled him toward the bus stop.
As we waited, I thought that I should've stolen enough to buy a car too. We boarded the bus, and it lumbered slowly towards the city of Pécs.
Since a brand-new wardrobe wasn't in the budget, we headed to a second-hand shop. Ábel's eyes grew wide as we wandered through rows of pre-loved garments. I nudged him toward a fitting room with an armful of options and left him to it.
Meanwhile, I found a belt that screamed "cool" and decided I had to have it.
Ábel emerged with a pair of worn jeans, a black t-shirt, and a knitted sweater perfect for the colder days. "This is all I need," he declared, his tone resolute.
"You need more than that," I argued, pointing at the other clothes he'd discarded.
"Nope," he said cheerily, tossing the rest back onto the rack.
I shook my head with a smirk. At least he was making his own choices now, even if it was with stubborn determination.
Since we got off cheaply enough, I decided to treat Ábel to a late breakfast at one of the restaurants in the Arcade. He only asked for fries, but I ordered him a strawberry shake to go with it. I settled for the shake alongside my usual four cheeseburgers and a large portion of fries.
It was expensive, but I figured I could splurge this once. Besides, what Alex didn't know wouldn't hurt him—and I was fully prepared to destroy the evidence.
Ábel, meanwhile, was utterly captivated by the junk food. He kept marveling at how good the fries were, oblivious to the dubious methods used to prepare them. But, as the saying goes, what we don't know won't hurt us.
With the weekend bus schedule running only once an hour, I decided to show Ábel around the city. We wandered up to Széchenyi Square, where Ábel's wide eyes took in the bustling crowd. He had never seen so many humans in one place. Occasionally, he sniffed the air, overwhelmed by the myriad of unfamiliar scents.
I pointed out the mosque and gave him a brief history lesson about the Turks, but his interest in human history was minimal at best.
A bubble man was entertaining the crowd—one of those street performers with a bucket of soapy water and a giant loop of string. He dipped it in and produced enormous, glistening bubbles. Ábel was mesmerized. For fifteen whole minutes, he was utterly entranced, chasing after the floating orbs like a child seeing magic for the first time.
When I finally coaxed him away to get ice cream, he ordered yogurt-flavored after whispering to me, asking what yogurt was. I opted for lemon cheesecake.
As we enjoyed our treats, I noticed a group of monsters on a nearby bench giving us odd looks. Ábel caught it too. Before I could stop him, he stomped over, his foot coming down on the bench with such force that it cracked with a resounding snap, right next to one of the boys.
"What are you looking at?" Ábel demanded, his chin up, a challenging grin on his face. In that moment, he looked like a pint-sized bandit, just missing a metal baseball bat.
"N-Nothing," one of them stammered.
Ábel wasn't convinced. He leaned in closer. "You want trouble?"
"Ábel…"
"If you ever look at my brother like that again, I'll beat the shit out of you…"
"Ábel…"
"I'll skin you slowly, and then—"
"Ábel!" I finally raised my voice, cutting him off. He turned to me instantly, his expression shifting to an innocent, sweet smile.
"Yes?"
"That's enough," I sighed, gesturing for him to leave them alone.
Ábel shot the monsters one last glare, silently promising them a gruesome end if they ever crossed us again.
"Have I caused trouble again?" Ábel asked nervously as he caught up to me.
I waved a hand dismissively. On the bus, Ábel had secured us a seat with his bandit aura, proving himself unexpectedly useful. Sitting beside him had its perks—no one dared approach me, and any curious glance in my direction was met with a fierce glare from my self-appointed protector.
With his wild, light brown hair that looked like it had never encountered a comb, and the dark circles shadowing his malevolent eyes, Ábel exuded a vibe that could rival even the most notorious villains.
"Thank you," he said suddenly.
"For what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"For everything," he grinned.
I couldn't help but smile. "Just shut up."
He laughed, and my smile widened. I ruffled his hair affectionately, then turned my attention to the scenery whizzing past the window. When we finally got home, Ábel retreated to his room, mentioning he felt weak after our city adventure.
At the time, I didn't grasp the true weight of his words. They were a quiet farewell.
(...)
I woke early the next morning—Rolo was still sound asleep.
A strange feeling gnawed at me. I opened the door, compelled by a sense of urgency. Something important was behind it. Yet, doubt lingered—did I really want to face whatever it was?
I stepped inside. Ábel lay in his bed. Normally, I would have turned away, but the unusual feeling crystallized in that moment: Ábel's heart wasn't beating—I couldn't hear it.
I had grown accustomed to the deep thumping that occasionally echoed even in my dreams. Now, all I could hear were Rolo's gentle, steady beats and the frantic pounding of my own heart.
I approached his bed, my mind refusing to accept the obvious. "Ábel," I called, shaking him gently. "Ábel, wake up!"
His skin was ice-cold to the touch, chilling me to the bone. "Ábel..."
His lips held a sweet smile, his face peaceful as if merely asleep—but he wasn't moving, breathing, or alive.
As I turned him over, Jo's necklace slipped from his fingers.
Without thinking, I tore the skin on my finger and pressed it to his mouth. "Come on, come on!" Nothing.
Desperation clawed at me as I began pounding on his chest.
Alex burst into the room, drawn by my frantic shouts. I was too consumed by trying to bring Ábel back to notice anything else.
"Alex," I whispered, still performing chest compressions. "Ábel won't wake up!"
Alex's shaky sigh reached my ears as he stepped closer. When I looked up, his face told me everything—he knew.
"The venom... his own venom killed him," Alex said quietly.
"Wake up!" I commanded Ábel, ignoring Alex's grim statement.
"Shay," Alex whispered, his hand gently resting on my shoulder.
I froze for a moment, the harsh reality seeping into my consciousness. Ábel wasn't going to wake up.
"Why?" My voice trembled with suppressed rage. "Why didn't you tell me?!"
Alex avoided my gaze.
"Answer me!" I growled, my fury barely contained.
"I promised him. He made me swear not to tell you," Alex replied, barely audible.
I looked back at Ábel's still form, and for a moment, I saw Jo in his place.
"Wake up, Ábel!" I slammed my fist into Ábel's chest in helpless anger.
Suddenly, Ábel's eyes flew open, then narrowed again as he gasped for air. The weak, trembling thumps of his heart returned, fragile but present.
For a moment, I couldn't believe I'd actually succeeded. But there was no time to dwell. I hoisted Ábel onto my back, got up, and stared at Alex briefly before pushing him off. Rolo stood frozen in the doorway, shock etched across his face.
Without another word, I left them all behind. I ran, and kept running, my breath ragged, repeating to Ábel like a desperate mantra that everything would be okay. I was going to save him.
He just had to live. I couldn't let him die—not after Jo. The thought of losing Ábel, the last remnant of Jo, was unbearable. If Ábel died, I knew I would lose myself completely.
I reached a house where a man was stepping out of his car, oblivious to the storm I was in. In the next instant, I was by his side, placing Ábel in the passenger seat and strapping him in with one swift motion.
"What are you doing?!" the man barked.
It was too late. I grabbed the keys from his hand, shoving him aside.
"I'm sorry, but this boy is dying," I said, already sliding into the driver's seat, and I sped off.
I had no sense of time—only the urgency pounding in my veins. I drove faster than I ever had, each second feeling like an eternity.
When I reached the hospital, I kicked in the door of the ward. The doctor turned, startled, perhaps ready to scold me for the abrupt entrance. But he didn't say a word. Maybe he saw something in my face that silenced him, something desperate and wild. His eyes slowly shifted from me to Ábel.
He motioned for me to place Ábel on a bed. Once I had, he tried to send me out, but I wouldn't leave. I muttered incoherent words, trying to explain what had happened. I wasn't sure if he understood any of it, but eventually, he nodded and repeated his request to be alone with the patient.
The wait felt eternal. The doctor didn't emerge until nearly eleven o'clock. When he finally did, I sprang up, bombarding him with questions. He explained that he had extracted the glands that produced the venom and stabilized Ábel as best he could.
Then he hesitated, his voice heavy with finality. "I don't think he'll wake up again."
The words hit me like a blow. I didn't stay to hear more. I ran out of the hospital.