James’ fingers trembled slightly as he gripped the edge of the table. The cold metal dug into his palms, grounding him, yet his mind felt like it was slipping. His head hung low, eyes shadowed beneath his bangs. His expression was blank—empty.

  But deep inside, something had begun to stir.

  A crack in the numbness. A whisper of emotion.

  His voice came out hoarse, almost broken.

  “Then… why did my family also die?”

  Sam’s smirk faded.

  James’ breath hitched, and slowly, he lifted his gaze. For the first time in days, his eyes weren’t cold or distant. They weren’t hollow.

  There was something raw in them now. Something painfully human.

  “Why did my father ask for forgiveness?” His voice cracked, the weight of the words pressing down on him. “What am I supposed to forgive him for?”

  Silence.

  Sam didn’t speak, didn’t interrupt. He just watched as the mask James had been wearing finally crumbled.

  James let out a shaky breath. His shoulders sagged, the tension leaving him all at once, replaced by something heavier—something suffocating.

  “Even if I accept living…” he murmured. “I’ll still be alone.”

  The words hung between them like a thick fog.

  He clenched his fists, nails digging into his skin. He wanted to hold on to the numbness. He wanted to stay in that empty space where nothing hurt.

  But Sam’s words had shattered something inside him, and now the emotions were seeping through the cracks.

  Loss.

  Pain.

  Fear.

  Guilt.

  James squeezed his eyes shut, his breath unsteady.

  What was he supposed to do with all of this?

  How was he supposed to move forward when every step felt like walking on broken glass?

  A bitter silence stretched between them.

  Then—

  A chuckle.

  Soft. Amused.

  James’ eyes snapped open in confusion.

  Sam was laughing.

  Not mockingly. Not out of cruelty.

  It was light, almost gentle—like he had expected James to say that all along.

  James stared at him, disbelief flickering in his gaze.

  Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His usual smirk had softened into something warmer.

  “You’re still overthinking things, James.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “You’ve got me, don’t you?”

  James froze.

  The words caught him off guard, slipping through his defenses before he could stop them.

  Sam’s eyes never left his. There was no hesitation in his expression, no doubt.

  Just certainty.

  “You’re not alone. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

  James’ lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

  Not alone?

  The thought felt foreign—impossible.

  For so long, it had just been him and the silence.

  For so long, he had believed there was no one left to hold onto.

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  Sam tilted his head, his grin widening slightly. “So how about this?” He tapped a finger against the table. “I’ll be your family. You and me—let’s not make their deaths meaningless.”

  James’ breath caught in his throat.

  Something cracked inside him again.

  It wasn’t the sharp, painful kind.

  It was slow. Deep. A warmth creeping into the hollow space where his heart used to be.

  He lowered his gaze, staring at his clenched fists.

  Family.

  Could he really… accept that?

  Could he really let himself believe in something like that again?

  James’ mind rebelled against the thought, trying to pull him back into the emptiness, back into the safety of not caring

  But Sam’s words wouldn’t leave him.

  You’re not alone.

  You just haven’t realized it yet.

  James swallowed.

  It hurt.

  It hurt so much to even consider believing in those words.

  Because if he did… if he let himself accept them…

  Then losing again would destroy him.

  But at the same time—

  For the first time since his family died, someone had reached into the darkness and pulled him back.

  For the first time… he wasn’t drowning alone.

  And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to be.

  James stared at Sam, his mind struggling to process the words he had just heard.

  For so long, loss had been his only companion. The burden of survival had been nothing more than a lingering obligation—a cruel extension of a life that should have ended with his family.

  He wasn’t afraid of dying.

  Nor did he feel any real purpose in living.

  His world had ended the moment his family took their last breaths.

  But now, sitting across from Sam in the crowded orphanage dining hall, something foreign crept into his thoughts. A whisper of a question, an idea he had never dared to consider.

  How do I live for them?

  Sam grinned, breaking the silence. “You know, James, I’ve been thinking.” He leaned forward, voice brimming with excitement, but beneath it, something deeper—something firm. Conviction. “They say people are waking up with abilities—real powers, like something out of a movie. We don’t know how or why, but it’s happening.”

  James blinked, his mind still distant.

  “At first, I thought it was just rumors, but the soldiers here talk when they think we aren’t listening. Some people are getting as strong as tanks, as fast as cars—hell, some can even control things like fire and lightning.” Sam’s voice dropped lower, his gaze sharpening. “And you know what? I’m going to be one of them.”

  James finally looked at him, the haze in his mind lifting just slightly. “You’re… going to become an Awakened?”

  Sam nodded, his eyes burning with certainty. “Yeah. I don’t care if it takes months or years. I’ll train my body, push myself to the limit. If that’s what it takes to awaken, then I’ll do it.” His fists clenched. “Because I won’t let what happened to us happen to anyone else.”

  James exhaled slowly. Becoming an Awakened… Was that really something they could achieve?

  For the longest time, he had only seen himself as a passive observer, letting life happen around him. Letting the weight of the past keep him shackled.

  But Sam’s words—his determination—made something stir inside him.

  "And you," Sam said, pointing at James. "You’re going to do it with me."

  James hesitated. “...Why?”

  Sam scoffed, shaking his head like the answer was obvious. “Because you’re strong. I can tell.” Then his voice softened. “And because I don’t think you actually want to be alone, James. You just think you have to be.”

  James’ breath hitched.

  Those words dug deep—deeper than anything had in a long time.

  A part of him wanted to reject them, to push Sam away and bury himself back in the comforting numbness of solitude.

  “I’m not strong.

  I don’t need anyone.

  I don’t deserve to live when they don’t”.

  But his hands trembled under the weight of those lies.

  Alone… I’ve always been alone. But… do I have to be?. He thought to himself.

  James clenched his fists, his head lowering again. His chest ached, a dull, suffocating pain rising from somewhere deep inside.

  Sam watched him for a moment, then let out a long sigh. “James…”

  Before James could react, a sharp impact rocked his head to the side.

  A punch.

  His vision blurred for a second as his cheek stung from the sudden hit.

  Sam had punched him.

  James looked up, stunned, but Sam was already grabbing the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer until their faces were inches apart.

  "You think you're the only one who lost everything?" Sam growled, his eyes dark with emotion. "You think you're the only one who wakes up every day wondering why the hell you're still breathing?"

  James’ body tensed.

  “I lost my family too. I lost my home, my future—everything I ever knew.” Sam’s grip tightened. "You don’t think I wanted to disappear too? You don’t think I wished, every goddamn day, that it had been me instead of them?"

  James swallowed hard, his throat dry.

  "But you know what?" Sam continued, his voice raw. "I’m still here. And so are you."

  James turned his face away, gritting his teeth.

  "Look at me!" Sam shook him slightly. "I don’t care if you think life ended the day your family died. I don’t care if you think you’re alone. Because you’re not!"

  James’ breathing was ragged, his mind spinning.

  Sam’s words—his anger, his pain—they were real. They weren’t just empty reassurances. They weren’t meaningless.

  They were the same feelings James had buried deep inside himself, the same wounds he had refused to acknowledge.

  "I’m not letting you waste away, James. I’m not letting you sit there, drowning in guilt, pretending like you’re already dead." Sam let go of his collar, his expression softening just slightly. "Because I know, deep down, you don’t want to die."

  James squeezed his eyes shut.

  Because Sam was right.

  Even at his lowest, even when everything felt meaningless, a small part of him had clung to life.

  A weak, fragile part.

  But it was there.

  And now, Sam had grabbed hold of it—dragged it into the light, refusing to let him slip away.

  James felt something burning in his chest.

  It wasn’t just pain.

  It wasn’t just grief.

  It was something else—something stronger.

  Hope.

  Sam took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. Then, as if nothing had happened, he smirked. “I’ve already decided. If becoming an Awakened is the only way to protect what matters, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  He held out a hand.

  "Are you coming or not?"

  James stared at the outstretched hand, his heart pounding.

  A choice.

  He could retreat back into the shadows. Back into loneliness, into emptiness.

  Or—

  He could reach forward.

  He could take Sam’s hand.

  He could move forward.

  James' fingers twitched before he slowly—hesitantly—reached

  out.

  And then, he grasped Sam’s hand.

  "...Alright."

  Sam’s smirk widened into something real—something triumphant. "Good."

  Their hands tightened.

  No more running.

  No more drowning in the past.

  From this moment on, their path was set.

  There was no turning