"Seriously? You forgot?" Tanya's tone sharpened. Dave hadn't even given it a thought. The meals sat getting colder, yet they brought no warmth - just a chill that seemed to fill the room.
She met Dave's gaze, a flicker of fear giving way to rising fury. Dave's thoughts tumbled over each other; he needed to make things right - now. She mustn't dissect his identity, not now, not when everything was so fragile. I need to calm her down somehow.
"Alright, alright… I'm sorry," he said, forcing a sheepish grin onto his face. It felt unnatural, like wearing a mask that didn't quite fit. "I was just trying to get on your nerves. Sorry...."
Tanya let out a wobbly sigh. She wanted to hold him, though her hands also felt like hitting him. "You know," she said softly, frustration giving way to weariness, " you're such an idiot.". She pushed food around her plate, each poke a way to shut things down. He received absolutely no attention during supper - the silence actually stung more than an argument would have.
The stew did little for Dave, the shrimp offered nothing either. Alongside him, Tanya moved silently, a presence he could almost touch. They walked on, the city muted under a heavy sky, heading home.
Her rigid posture caught his eye, a silent jab at his failings. Before this, Clive hadn't much luck around women - so he steered clear. A fear of blunders held him back - a terror of looking silly. But fate, it seemed, offered do-overs; a new life, a fresh start. Yet immediately, he managed to upset the very individual who showed kindness.
I'm so pathetic. He sighed deeply, before steeling himself to speak.
"I'm sorry," he said, the words feeling inadequate. "I didn't mean to tease you with something so important. I won't do it again. Alright?"
The only answer was the sound of their footsteps on earth. The wall of silence remained unbreached. I've made it worse. I always make it worse.
Then, so quietly he almost missed it, Tanya spoke, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. "Will there be another time?"
Dave blinked, unsure he'd heard correctly. "What?"
She stopped walking but didn't turn to face him. "Will there be another time?" she repeated. "Another time for teasing? For laughing? For joking around? Will there?" She finally turned, and in the fading light, he saw the glint of tears tracking down her cheeks. "Will there even be an 'us' anymore?"
A sound - a broken little cry - slipped out before Dave could speak. She bolted, vanishing as dusk deepened, so he remained rooted to the track. "Tanya!"! "No…" he managed, though the shadows consumed everything he said. A harsh taste bloomed – regret, stinging like acid.
When he finally pushed open the door to the apartment, he found her, a small shape curled up by the wall, tears falling silently. A jolt went through him. His anxiety faded, overshadowed entirely by how much pain she was in.
He settled onto the floor, a bit of space between them. Clive fumbled, predictably shy around women, yet Dave felt an unexpected need to protect her. "My bad," he murmured again. "Really sorry." He hadn't even thought about how she might feel, offering a genuine apology instead
Tanya tucked her face away, quiet as could be. Dave observed her, figuring she wanted to be alone. But the moment he started to get up, someone gripped his wrist. Her grip surprised him, pulling him near without warning. She held tight, an intense hug fueled by a pressing need before he could even process what happened.
Dave froze, his face flushing a deep red. He could feel the dampness of her tears through his shirt, the frantic beat of her heart against his chest.
"Dave," she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
"Ye… yes?" he stammered.
She held him tighter. "When we enter the game… can you promise me one thing?"
A realization dawned - the words weren't the whole story. It involved those grim wrist scars, alongside a growing sense of fear about what was coming. Tanya felt a cold dread - Dave was all she had left that made sense. Slowly, his heartbeat evened out.
"What is it?" he asked, finally sounding peaceful.
She took a shaky breath. "Could you promise me that when we enter the game, if I'm not where you are… could you promise to find me? If I'm still alive?"
The request seemed huge, yet simple enough. A bitter taste lingered. He barely recognized himself - a mere echo in someone else's skin. He really had no business making commitments. Still, looking at her hair, feeling her trust within his grasp… a warmth bloomed unexpectedly - not entirely belonging to him, though familiar to his body, his very being. He couldn't look away.
"I swear," he said, each word feeling like an anchor to what might be.
He caught her as she folded against him, a whisper of gratitude on her breath. Resistance dissolved, leaving her utterly still - though even in slumber, quiet didn't come easily, just different shadows.
Tanya leaned into his embrace; the vow weighed upon him. Though life gifted a second chance, it appeared intent on delivering another sorrow - perhaps crueler than before. He studied her peaceful face, hearing again those simple words: I promise.
He let out one last sigh, giving in. Darkness then claimed his eyes.
The Game Maker awaited.