So, I may have told Ko in the comments that this chapter would have some stuff about Stalkers, but I couldn't work it into this chapter with the way I wanted to write this one, so either the next chapter or the one after that will have more of the Stalker content you sighed up for. 944Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdyx6hq7aoy
Even the taste of blueberry juice didn't stop Niought's quiet crying, nor did it take away the dread that still lay heavy on his chest. It was like it's sweet and almost tarty flavor was just bland and boring. It was like it was in the background, just like the sound of his grandparents talking in the living room, and Jevar at his side on his bed—it was all grey.944Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwC4LBkEZwK
But as her father stepped into the room he forced himself to glance up, like he was paying attention. He stood before them, looking perplexed, his emerald colored eyes shine with worry. "Vernio just got back, the cows are perfectly fine, though a bit spooked...are you sure it wasn't just your eyes playing tricks on you?"
"Dad, we saw it! It had a big head, and big white eyes! I know what I saw!" Jevar yelled so abruptly that Niought jumped a bit, glancing at her angrily. Couldn't she see he was already scared enough? He didn't need her loud outbursts right now.
"I know you're not lying, but it's early, and you're probably tired..." He trailed off, frowning. Niought could tell that this just made Jevar even more angry, but she glanced down as his grandma steps into the room, walking over to offer them a plate of cookies with a sad smile on her sweet but wrinkly face. Niought took a handful, placing them in his lap before grabbing just one to eat; the chocolate chips went surprisingly well with the blueberry juice.
"Niought." Jevar's father suddenly said, and Niought glanced up quickly, "Hm?"
Her father sighed, tilting his head at his grandma. It took Niought a minute to figure it out, "Uh, thank you grandma!" She smiled and laughed a bit. "It's fine. You don't need to thank me, no matter what Wyatt may say about it."
Jevar's father looked to the old woman icily, but didn't say anything when she turned to grin at him mischievously. That was when Jevar abruptly stood up, glaring at all of them, Niought included, "This isn't the time for stupid juice drinks and cookies! This isn't the time for manners! What if another death army came to this village again?! What will you do about it, dad?! What the hell is the plan?! Let us die?!"
"Jevar, that's why we take precautions! Now calm down, you don't want people panicking!" He snapped at her, his eyes fierce.
She stood her ground though. Stupid Jevar. "What precautions?! Staying in the village and being paranoid?! Living in fear?! Treating visitors like freaks?! You want to live like this forever?!"
"What choice do we have?!" He yelled back, "This it the type of thinking that got Agave destroyed last time!"
"My mom was right to fight back!" She screamed at him then, her eyes red. "You're just-" she paused, "Weak."
There was a thick silence that filled the air, and Niought just wanted to jump out the nearest window to avoid the whole situation. He would have, too, if he wasn't holding cookies and a cup of juice.
It feels like a few minutes before her father turned away, leaving the room looking aggravated, and then Jevar got up and staring marching towards the front door, confusing Niought. "Hey, where are you going? Jev? Jev?!" He called out to her, but she ignored him and left the house, slamming the door behind her. He glanced to his grandma then, frowning.
She glanced back at him, also frowning as she shrugged, sitting next to him to eat the cookies that Jevar didn't take.
Jevar and her dad were both so stubborn, with strong opinions, but they hardly ever fought, as far as Niought knew. In fact, they usually got along really well, joking and being silly together. It almost annoyed Niought sometimes, because he felt left out, but surprising the man treated Niought like his own son sometimes. Which annoyed Jevar sometimes.
Her dad would often switch it up to make them both happy. And sure, Niought could play checkers with his grandpa and listen to seemingly endless stories about "back in the day", or read with his grandma, but neither of his grandparents were quite as fun as Jevar's dad. Yeah, he was scary sometimes, but other times he was the best person in the world. Well, aside from Jevar.
But he most certainly didn't want them to fight or argue. Because really, how can two stubborn people make up afterwards? How would they ever get over the fight? Jevar held grudges against most people—even him sometimes—and she didn't get over things easily. That mixed with her father's stubborn and sort of reluctance to say he was wrong sounded like a disaster to Niought. But maybe he was wrong.
Maybe somehow they'd get over the difference between them. Maybe Jevar would let it go for once.
Except it didn't sound like that would be happening anytime soon.
"You what?" Niought asked in shock, staring at her as she collected books from the shelf before her. "I'm gonna stand up for this town. I'm gonna fight back, or die trying."
Niought must have misheard her twice. Wow, his ears were bad. "Okay, say that one more time, I misheard something."
She turned to him suddenly, her hair hitting his face and he backed up at her eyes, the bright green color brighter than usual with something strong and unwavering. "I'm not gonna stay around this town forever. I don't want to grow old here playing checkers and dreaming while there are people dying out there! Do you?" She asked, her voice surprising calm, but the resolve he heard there was terrifying.
He stuttered, unsure. Normally he'd follow her anywhere, even into the dreaded forest...but now? He didn't know anymore. He never wanted to be a hero like her. He didn't want to think about death like her. He didn't want to talk about his feelings like this. It was easier to pretend that nothing mattered. It'd be easier to live here forever, grow old, and one day die in his sleep.
But he was 13, and this was heavy. It was difficult to imagine any other life. Hard to imagine not waking up late, hard to imagine him and Jevar—of all people—being heroes. Just earlier they had both cried and ran from a monster, how would they fight them? He supposed her thick skull could do some damage. Sure.
And that's when he realized it; it didn't matter what he said, did it? Why did she ask him? To recruit him into her "army"? Even if he said no she'd do it. She would still fight back. Or die trying, as she said. He frowned at the thought. She would leave him, wouldn't she? She would go adventure, go see the world—without him.
He stared at her, trying to read it in her eyes, trying to find the truth he already felt.
"If I said I was going to stay in this town forever...you'd go anyways." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. It was a fact. It was the truth.
Jevar stared back at him intensely, then she nodded. Of course.
He felt anger rising up in his chest, his brows furrowing at the thought of her going off and saving everyone like a hero without him. The thought of her exploring and adventuring, crying and laughing, without him at her side.
"I want to." He said finally. It was the best answer he had. It wasn't "I will" and it wasn't "no". It was a weak "yes", because he was weak. He was fragile, and thin-skinned, and a cry-baby, but he also feisty, and competitive, and he loved to shock people and do the unexpected.
And Jevar brought out his brave side. She made him a fighter, for better or worse. She made him want to be stronger. To protect her, to help her, to be the hero for once.
And he would at least try.
ns 15.158.61.12da2
