Planet: Eteran

First Insurgency War

RAYAN

He hated snow.

Too white and fluffy.

It slipped into his boots and froze his toes though he bundled up. He spent the winter with his painting tools and James' pictures. Dinner with Ava remained fresh on his mind. His stomach churned with a mix of happiness and strange uncertainty — but at least she enjoyed herself.

I don't know why I felt so weird... maybe it's because she seemed distracted. I heard James hasn't been doing so well since the dance. Neither of us could eat.

Mom ordered him fresh paints, and with James' photocard in hand, he got to work. It was strange to not have James sort through them to pick the best image, but he took a gander and tried to get into his best friend's headspace of what he'd choose.

He started his new sketch, and sat down to get the best view of James' focal point, where the ice clashed against the bank. He missed the salt flats and the wind rustling underneath his solarboad with his dash for freedom. I thought I would hate it here... but I'm glad I was wrong. He adjusted the focal point to get another angle of his chosen sketch. I'm glad I met them all... it's warm.

In his artistic silence, he lifted his head when a door clicked open upstairs. Must be Mom. He placed his brush into a cleaning container then headed to the washing station to clean his hands of painted colours.

Footsteps came closer to the other side of the door, and Rayan gaped when James stumbled through. "What?" James asked, though Rayan frowned at his ashen pallor. "You think getting sick would keep me from our daily 'pick this picture apart until you have something to paint' time?"

"Ava was worried when she came over," Rayan recalled, but James ignored him. "If you told me you were coming over, I would've made something for you."

James stuck his tongue out, but Rayan winced at the queasy expression on his face. "Right." He folded his arms and sat against his workstation. "First Eteran winter, what do you think?"

"I hate it," he repeated. "It's cold. It's wet, even when I wear my best boots, apparently."

James brushed his hand down the pictures he set up. "So..." He sniffed and turned to him with a wobble. "I heard you went on a dinner date with Ava. How'd it go?"

Well, this sounds like a trap. Rayan forced a smile onto his face. "It was... fun, I think. I think she enjoyed it."

James leaned deeper onto the counter, and Rayan pushed the urge to support him aside. "That's good," he said. "I'm glad she got some enjoyment out of it. All Ava does is worry about other people instead of taking time for herself." James' rubbed the back of his neck with a heavy huff. "So... thank you, Rayan." He made a small noise of struggle as he tore himself off the counter. "Can I... talk to you about something?"

"I'm not going to hurt your sister," Rayan blurted out.

James hesitated, then puffed out a breath through his nose. "I'm not worried about that." He tugged an infopod out of his jacket, where his fingers trembled in the grip. Rayan reached out for the infopod, but wrapped his hand around James' wrist instead. His shaking worsened.

"Before I talk about this — promise me you won't tell Ava," James said.

"I... promise?" Dread launched into his gut. "James, what is this about?"

Infopod in hand, he inserted it into his datapad to look over the contents. Knives tore his heart in two at the words on the page. Words he never wanted to see. Words he never hoped to witness. Rayan wanted to close his eyes and ignore the truth, but James' words plagued his mind.

"After I graduate from Eastpoint Collegiate," James explained. "I'm going into the Strike Forces."

No!

It lifted into an unheard scream, a cry, anything to get James to change his mind — from making a mistake he could never take back. Mom walked in, day after day, with weary features and a well-worn Sanctum uniform. Tightness strangled his throat as he came closer to James, who tipped back from him. "Why didn't you tell Ava this? You know she's going to find out eventually."

"I need..." James released a shallow breath. "I just need to figure out how to word it."

"How to word it?" Rayan asked, shrill. "Isn't this the reason you hate your dad?"

"That's different!" James snapped, but Rayan winced when he held onto the workstation. "After we graduate Ava will be off doing her explorer team. I don't have to follow her wherever she goes, Rayan." Odd resentment filled James' voice as he turned to the counter, doubling over it. "It's my choice... I can do what I want."

Rayan pushed the ripples in his throat and eyes as he came closer to touch James' back. "You don't understand the choice you're making." He tossed the infopod to the side to hold James' shoulders, forcing him to face his decision. He glared at him, strong and stubborn. "You've seen the people who walk into this mansion. You've seen the people patrolling Eastpoint. James, if you—" Tears bit at the corners of his world, but he pushed on and refused to give up. "You heard what your dad said. We're at war. The chances of them throwing you at the First Insurgency—"

I can't. Don't do this to me. I'll do anything. I can barely handle Mom leaving... and the chance she won't come back.

With nothing but a tag with a single number and letter.

Rayan held him tighter. "Is there nothing I can say that'll change your mind?"

James refused to budge. "You won't tell my sister."

Rayan swallowed on a sob and hugged James. Heat trembled against his face as James stood in his embrace, hands outstretched as if fighting the urge to push him. "You need to think about this," he begged. "You're not well."

"I've thought about this enough." James shifted in his arms. "Don't tell my sister, please."

Vulnerability dripped from his tone, and Rayan choked on the uncertain future.

"I... I can't change your mind." Rayan let him go. "I just... I hope you know the choice you're making? It's... It's not something to be taken lightly." He held James out in front of him. "I won't mention this to Ava, but I think you should tell her."

"And ruin what dream she has? Let her have that much," James mumbled as he raised a hand to his clammy brow. "Also, this isn't about my dad." Rayan jolted when James pushed him and made for the door.

He lunged forward when James stumbled and his knees gave out, who gripped onto the wall to stop his descent. "James, you need to take a minute," he said as he lowered James to the floor. James clung onto him with a queasy expression on his face. "Relax."

I can't make you stay, though I wish you would.

His fingers drifted on James' brow to check the deceit James tried to hide behind. Warmth spread through his fingertips, but James leaned back with a wince and held out his arm to keep him at a distance. "I'm fine," he said and got back onto his knees. "I'm just... a little dizzy. Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Would... that help?"

James blinked, then switched his gaze to the floor.

"Maybe you need something to eat." Rayan held out his hands to help James, but pulled back at James' glare. James forced himself to his feet with the counter as support. "I mean, I'm hungry anyway. I'll make something light. Let me help you." Rayan held out his arm.

After a few long moments, James took his outreach of support. "Did Ava eat during your date?"

"She did."

James released another heavy, strangled sigh. "Good, like I said, she has a bad habit of forgetting to take care of herself." Anger laced through James' hazel eyes while Rayan dragged him out of the dome and upstairs. "I blame my dad for her perfectionism. It's like she thinks she has something to prove to him when he's never around." James clenched his fist against his shoulder, but Rayan latched onto every word for something to convince him away from the Strike Forces. "Ava is an Honours student. Class Rep. She never complains, is kind, everyone loves to be around her. But when she feels like she's not enough for him, she tries harder without realising she's damaging herself."

Rayan stopped in the main foyer. What would I do to prevent you from leaving me? He bit down on his tears. "I... I see what you mean, I guess."

James beathed beside him. "What about you? Why do you hate your dad?"

"Hate him?" Rayan took James to the kitchen and set him on a chair to turn the stove on. "I... I don't hate him." It pained him, but hate was not one of the emotions swirling in his stomach whenever he laid eyes on Dad, whenever he stepped through the threshold. Exhaustion for something unchanging, and he never changed. "He's never around to have a meaningful relationship." He readied a pot, and shrugged. "He knows nothing about me, and I just... get mad when he thinks he does."

James sighed. "Mine made Ava think that to make him proud, she had to be perfect at everything and never fail," he said. "Which I find stupid. He's never around, why does she care?"

James... I think that's the reason. He turned with a smile. "James, have you ever thought about asking her? Have you tried telling her this?"

"I would, but she assumes I take every chance I can get to be spiteful towards our dad, so you tell me."

Rayan resisted the urge to laugh, and from the way James' expression contorted, he heard it. "Okay, I don't exactly hide my resentment towards our dad," he admitted. He leaned back in the chair and drooped. "What would you do, Ray, if you were in my position?"

Rayan put the soup into the pot. "I don't know," he whispered. "I understand what you're saying, and I agree Ava needs to take it easy, but... Maybe you should look at it from her perspective?" He frowned. "On our date I could tell she was upset about... something. How you were too stubborn to accept her help, and she mentioned you refused to eat something your dad made for you." He stirred the contents of the soup. "I won't presume to know what goes on in your house so maybe my opinion doesn't mean anything. I can't even claim to know your sister as well as you do." He closed the lid with a weighted huff.

Water steamed, and a chill crawled through his spine when James whispered, "I value your opinion."

Rayan turned, where James rested his hands on his lap. He checked on the soup and headed to James to help him to his feet. "I think you need to lie down for a bit," he whispered as he rested his hand on James' shoulder. "I just want you to be sure about what you intend to do in the future." He raised his hands closer to hold his face, causing James to widen his eyes in alarm. "James, you weren't meant for something like the Strike Forces. You're a photographer, a writer. You're good at those things. Don't you want to do those things instead?" He longed to understand what drove James into the choking arms of the Strike Forces.

"Apparently I don't know much of anything." James shrunk from his fingers. "I just... I think this is the best course I can take — even if you or Ava won't like it."

Water bubbled.

James sucked in his pale lips. "You didn't have to make me anything."

"I think Ava would strangle me if I stood to the side and watched you suffer," he rasped. "James—"

James pushed past him with a sharp breath. "I've made my choice already. I need to stick with it."

"James, wait!" Rayan jolted when James grabbed his winter coat and shambled to the main foyer and he ran to stop him.

Stay!

James stopped at the door while snow pounded against the windows. He pressed his hand against the glass, where the frost collected along the trimmings. His chest rose and fell in hard, uneven bursts as he lifted his hand across his lips.

"James just..." Rayan came closer as James' winter coat slipped out of his free hand to hit the floor and he picked it up to put it to the side. "Just talk to me. Talk this out. Stop running away."

James crept back into him, but stopped. "Ray, where's your bathroom?"

"It's... where it's always been." Rayan motioned down the hall and to the left.

His ashen pallor went ghost white as he pushed Rayan to the side, and ran back into the manor.

"James?" He went to follow, but James shook his head in one wild motion and disappeared around the corner to the bathroom.

Oh no...

Rayan ignored the silent request, and turned into the bathroom as James threw up into the sink, and he raised his finger to his compearl to call Mom.

The stove dinged.