A Lesson About Futility (4)

(Leo)

***

Those words were like a crack of thunder signalling a storm, and the burning tears made my face alight in fire, messy snot dripping from my nose. Akiyoshi was not as violent of a crier, so he carried me off to his room to lay me down on his couch.

He rubbed my shoulder, and I couldn't help but feel terrible. Guilt was a rotten emotion; once it took hold, it degraded the heart until it wasn't the same anymore. The organ became some useless pile of black mush with no value, reaching its expiry date and only wanting to repent as I sat aside with an inability to do anything about it.

I was an emotional corpse. Maybe I was an actual corpse, too.

(Everyone was supposed to laugh if I said that aloud.)

I couldn't tell the difference in a desensitized state, barely able to even feel the warmth from Akiyoshi's fingertips.

If death felt numb, maybe it was better than guilt. To live without emotions was to exist in a void. That void would have kept everyone from being damaged. That void would have kept me from feeling so responsible for everything.

"Leo," Akiyoshi said as he stroked my arm, "you don't need to blame yourself."

He hadn't calmed down at all, and his face was still a feisty shade of red with a glossy coat of polish.

"But I do, anyway!" I smacked the cushions. I accidentally sent a teacup flying across the room as it clinked upon contact with the wall. "I caused the problem, and I was the weakest link in trying to solve it! How much more useless can I get?"

"You think you're useless?" he snapped. "I had to sit here, bite my nails, and hope the three of you would come back with good news. I couldn't help *any* of you! If you want to talk about being useless, look at me, the son of a king with no sense of time and the owner of magic that can only fix his dad's messes!"

"Why is this a fucking competition?" I shouted while I sat up. "Fighting over who's more to blame doesn't change the fact that what's done is done!"

His expression dampened, silent tears endlessly streaming. All he could do was nod and land his head on my chest.

"Why was I so stupid?" he asked, sounding completely defeated at last. "I only liked her in that way because I had no other hope, and now I've caused her to go permanently missing. I figured there wasn't any other acceptable person for me to be with, but there was never anyone for me in the first place. Then, I also harmed the daughter of one of Dad's most trusted advisors. How cold can I be?"

His helplessness broke me, and I realized I had to be more together—more mature—than him right then.

"Cut it out," I told him, even though I hadn't convinced myself to do so. My face was still not dry.

"I already said arguing about that is pointless. I don't want you to carry this burden with you. You're of the age you can't measure the extent of your actions' consequences. Go ahead and cry," I said while rubbing his back.

"You can do that if you want, but don't continue to mull over how you could have fixed it. That's regret, and regret feels about as good as the morning after eating rotten eggs. Except it's constant."

Unlike the goofy messenger, he did not laugh, but I assumed he was appreciative nonetheless.

"I want you to go check on Sinclair," he whispered. "I know you're worried about them, and I know you care about them in a way beyond that of a friend."

I didn't even want to ask how he was aware of that, but I recalled he had a frightening sort of intuition.

"Will you be okay?"

"Yes," he replied. "I'm sure my parents will come by to make me feel better soon. But Sinclair… they have nobody except you."

He shook his head slowly.

*And Algor,* I thought, but there was no point in saying that to Akiyoshi. He didn't need any more worries. He already had enough for multiple lifetimes.

"I'll go check on them," I began, "but I want you to come find me if you need *anything*. I don't care if you want a hug, a glass of water, or even someone to accompany you to the library. Got it?"

He nodded. "Go."

I gave him a solemn nod in return, stepping away quietly before taking flight. I secretly thanked him for that because I knew Sinclair and I could comfort each other the best—as we did many times. We had a mutual understanding between us that I could achieve with so few people that I believed it to be impossible.

But with them, it wasn't.

I knew they took everything personally since they were unused to tragic scenarios and unhappy stories. They lived a fantasy in the sky, away from the troubles of the world. Such a failure was a reality check for them, and I worried about how they handled it—how they could be alone after something so unfortunate happened.

As the wind pushed against my brow—chilling it to counteract the warmth from my crying—my muted ears couldn't help but detect a faint sound from behind (somewhat) closed doors. It started as a vague smacking noise, growing louder as I approached it, and the tingling sensation in my wings returned for the first time in several days.

Someone shouted.

Another, in quick succession, asked, "How could you not know what you did? Are you really that oblivious? Did you want to see me hurt?"

*Algor?*

Something heavy slammed against the wall.