Pitbabe S2, Chapter 6 pg3

 pg3

   “If you already know, why don’t you stop?” It seems like today I’m only bringing words that rub Pete the wrong way, but if they can snap him back to reality even a little, I’m happy to be the loudmouth for a day. “It’s been two years, Pete. Not two days—two whole years since Way died. And you’re still stuck thinking about these things, even though you know the person who could give you answers is gone.”

   Pete went quiet, as if he was delving deep into his own mind. I understand it must be tough for him. Right now, the tip of Pete’s iceberg is shrinking every day, while the part submerged below keeps growing as the water level rises. Most of his feelings are beyond his conscious awareness, and because of that, it’s hard to find the right answers.

   “Have you ever met someone who feels different from everyone else?” 

   “Different?” I raised an eyebrow, a bit confused by his seemingly random question. “Different how?”

   “Like, on the outside, they seem just like anyone else, normal. No one else thinks they’re strange, but for you, you always feel they’re different from everyone you know. You end up focusing only on them, suddenly glancing their way, suddenly thinking of them.” Pete spoke in a slow, almost lethargic tone, his gaze distant, as if his body was still here, but his soul was drifting far away to a place I might never reach. A place only he was allowed to revisit in his memories. “Someone you want to protect and care for, someone you want to do good by, someone you want to see happy but don’t want them to be happy with someone else. Someone who exhausts you and then makes that exhaustion vanish all at once. Someone you think you know so well, but the next day, you’re still thrilled just to see their face.”

   I believe those memories must be so beautiful that Pete doesn’t want to let them go. But I can’t help worrying that if those images remain so vivid, when will he ever turn his back on them and walk away for real?

   “Someone who makes you feel like you could be something else, like you could do more, be better. Someone who makes you want to try something crazy just once. That kind of person… have you ever met them?”

   “Jeff.”

   I answered without hesitation.

   “For me, it’s Way.”

   Pete did the same.

   Pete’s words painted his memories so vividly it was almost miraculous, like he was gently leading me through his city, one that’s similar to mine. The buildings and layout aren’t too different, but the details are almost entirely unique. Part of Pete’s city is filled with trees, grass, and vibrant flowers, with cool breezes blowing. The other half is like a ghost town—desolate, gloomy, as if clouds perpetually cover that side, and it might stay that way forever. That part’s been abandoned too long to ever be restored.

   My city, on the other hand, is perfectly ordinary. It’s quiet, not too crowded, with few flowers but lush green trees covering everything, because the lord of my city hates chaos and flashy colors.

   “I know it’s not good. I want to leave this place too, but I just can’t,” Pete said, sounding pent-up. If this were one of the younger team members, I’d probably get up and hug them to comfort them. But because it’s Pete, I stayed put, listening intently. “I just think it’s not fair. I could’ve done so much more, but there wasn’t enough time. I just wanted a little more time, even just a bit.”

   “But I think it’s the fairest it could be. You got to do things for Way in the time Way had to give you,” I replied. “People have limited time—short or long, maybe it depends on fate. When you get a piece of someone’s time, it means you’ve borrowed a part of their life to become your memories. It doesn’t mean you can control every minute they have. That’s what’s unfair.”

   Pete was listening closely.

   I hope my words don’t make him sadder than he already is.

   “By trying to bargain, asking for more time when he has none left to give, do you think that’s fair?”

   “I… I don’t know.”

   “It’s not fair at all, Pete. Let Way rest.”

   I chose to say “let Way rest” instead of telling him to rest himself, because I know Pete right now couldn’t possibly do that. He’s still too consumed by the past to realize how exhausted he is. Most importantly, Pete sees Way’s issues as a mountain, but his own as smaller than a pebble. If I hope for him to prioritize himself more, I’ll probably have to wait until Way’s shadow fades a bit more.

   “You’re like my personal therapist,” Pete says, looking up. The slight curve of his lips eases my heart by about a quarter. Not much, but better than nothing. “Thanks.”

   “No need to thank me. I’m not here to therapize you.”

   Pete laughs, his lips curling up, but his eyes are darker than I remember.

   “If things keep going like this, find someone.”

   “A boyfriend?”

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