Day 2.6

The day was getting away from him quickly, and the mindless nature of digging a hole had left most of the last couple hours a blur. He’d made several more trips to carry soil back, and further shore up the stone walls of the [Lean-to] and his arms had basically given up on him.

He slumped down beside the [Basic Campfire] and set about preparing it for the night while he still had some light. He had leftover kindling and scraps from the first night to use, and it didn’t take him long to retrieve the [Basic Hand-drill] he’d made the day before. His arms protested the exertion of spinning the stick against the friction plate, but he closed his eyes and did his best to distract himself from the growing ache. The campfire crackled as it fought to take in the fuel around it, and within a few minutes, it had grown to a size that wasn’t in any danger of fizzling out.

August slumped to the ground beside the fire, wiggling until he was aligned next to it. Everything hurt, far worse than when he’d woken up, the day’s effort exacerbating the aches and pains two-fold.

The sun started to vanish beyond the top of the crater opposite him; the lake almost seemed to grow furiously hot as the reflection of the falling sun split it in two, the fragmented, wavy streak of orange cutting through the darkening blue of the water. It was a beautiful sight and not unlike something he would have seen in an overwrought backdrop for some ending scene in a film.

It reminded him of the ocean he’d seen so many times from his window, if a million times as less vast. August had always been one of the city rats, secluded away in the forest of concrete, glass, and towering metal. He could count the number of times he’d left the city on a spread of fingers, with no need for a thumb.

It was funny in a way; he’d been so content to whittle away his time messing about with the others. He’d spent next to no time thinking about the future, and his ambitions had never been more than getting ready for the next weekend.

There had been countless times when he’d felt like they were leaving him behind—when Eric had vanished for six months after his career really took off. August was left wondering if he’d failed somehow, his own lack of future prospects like a strike against his soul. Alex and Alice had further splintered everything by pairing off, something that had never happened amongst them so far.

The dynamics of the group had been shaken, and nobody knew how to deal with it. Ryan sought to fill the role that Eric had left, but he had none of the good nature to offset the aggression. Alex and Alice began to argue, Melanie continued being her usual intolerable self, and each group member started to take sides and draw battle lines.

There were so many other moments, other decisions that added to the falling house of cards, and each one was another blow to the group. Their weekend get-togethers that had once been a source of bright, happy memories now felt like an obligation to suffer through as each of them seemingly started fires and attempted to put them out at random.

It had left all of them trying to find what, if anything, had actually tied them all together in the first place. The answer to that question had been obvious in hindsight—proximity, convenience and accessibility.

Had any of them ever had anything in common? Had any of them ever really liked the others?

Once he’d acknowledged that he didn’t know the answer, it felt as if he’d discovered something horrible, and his own fracture came into existence.

Anger at Eric for leaving, jealousy of what Alex and Alice had together, and growing hate for Ryan and Melanie. Ryan hadn’t a damn thing in common with him, and the only person in the entire group that could even stand Melanie had been Alice.

August wasn’t so lost to narcissism that he couldn’t see his own problems—it took two people working together for a friendship to remain intact, and he’d never been one to act first. Ryan had called him a worm once, for his perchance to always be present, and yet somehow eternally underfoot or in the way.

He’d hated it at the time and hated Ryan all the more for saying it where everyone could hear, but afterwards, when he’d been alone with his thoughts, he had been left wondering if there wasn’t some truth to it.

There would be times when they had all been together, rambunctious, loud, and causing a mess, and August would find himself suddenly aware, like reality had broken and the sliver containing him had been sheered off entirely; He would find himself watching the others, hauntingly aware that he was a separate entity, to their united whole.

Then Alice would send him a sly smile, and everything would click back into place.

“Hey, Ladybug,” August said, clenching his eyes shut. “Do you have friends in the forest?”

Ladybug trilled a curious note from its place beside the gate, and August hummed at the noise. It had only been two days, and he was already starting to crack. Being alone with his thoughts was a curse, and the satisfaction of working hard all day was dissolving beneath the thought of another night here.

“They must be wondering where you went, huh?” August managed. “Sudden disappearance like yours, I bet they’re worried.”

He swiped his hand across his cheek and sniffed once to clear his nose, pushing past the rush of feelings that had overtaken him. Figures he’d be a million miles from Earth, and he was still worried about someone seeing him cry.

“Okay,” August decided, watching the last sliver of sun vanish. “We crushed it today, Ladybug—but don’t get complacent; tomorrow is going to be busy, we’ve got a hole to finish digging, so no more slacking off, alright?”

Ladybug, excited from the long string of words rushing out of his mouth, or perhaps the tone of voice, trilled in response, and he patted the monster on the head, ruffling its fur about and almost sending it tipping over.

“I’m counting on you again,” August said more quietly. “But, if you do run out of steam—or Mana—then I won’t fault you for taking a nap.”

August patted the monsters again before he closed his eyes and resigned himself to another night filled with recriminations and what-ifs. The last of the light fled, and the slowly growing fire fought to keep the darkness at bay.