my own worst enemy, so fuck it, either way i can't lose

[Buko]

There’s a kind of walking you do when you have nothing to do, nowhere to go and no one to see…

[ Ace Ortega and Angie Cortez Continued From: I'm only satisfied by the finer things in life like Rodarte and Margiela and making boys cry ]

And Ace and Angie had been doing it for hours.

Though on murder island, the hours felt like days, right? Time went by here in dog years. He was sure that was by design. This whole shit was designed to be the most miserable moment in existence.

Ace was a babbler by nature but the events of the last day had left him cold and distant and silent and stuck with the storm that was himself. Guilt and grief mixed into a particularly viscous and hard to swallow cocktail.

He choked it down.

Both lackadaisical and in a daze in his personality and completely lacking a sense of direction, they wandered the sloping wilderness for a bit at a trudging pace. They stopped for a little bit, relaxed, conserved energy, looked wistfully up to the sky. They exchanged some pleasantries, Angie said something, Ace said something—you know how conversation works.

They were together but they were separate and Ace didn’t mind that at all. He felt like he owed Ramsey to take care of his sister, just a bit—but he couldn’t fight against his own mind and his own instinct.

He wanted to be alone.

He wanted to be by himself.

He swallowed his thoughts and broke his silent longing for solitude.

“Gettin’ dark,” he said calmly (what a fuckin' front, huh?) , “Let’s set up here for tonight.”

He nodded to himself…

“I’ll take the first watch...," he said with a weariness, "I dun think Imma be able to sleep anyway. I wasn't able to yesterday either...I dunno..."

He sighed...

"Maybe watchin' you saw some logs'll get me able to, I dunno."

Smoothest man alive, without a doubt.

[Melusine]

Angie was weary. There wasn't anything here that made her feel anything else than weary. Angie wanted to fall asleep and sleep for the next decade. She hadn't cried ever since she had left the burial spot, but it didn't mean that she was feeling good. If anything, she was feeling worse.

Her entire body craved for the carthatic feeling of shedding a tear or three, but Angie held it above her own head. She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve the freedom to let go. Instead, Angie didn't speak. She thought about him again and again and again. In another situation, Angie would feel bad about her quiet spell since Ace had been so nice to her ever since they'd met.

Angie assumed two things about Ace: that he didn't deserve Meilin and that Angie didn't deserve him. There was this quiet contract that was forged between them that Angie knew wouldn't last but hoped it would last longer than whatever she previously had.
The sun dipped and so did both Angie and Ace in the woods.

"You want to watch me sleep?" Banter, anything to change her mind. "That's kinda creepy."

She looked away. She meant for that to sound like a joke, but if anything she felt nauseous and tired. She just wanted today to end. She also wanted tomorrow to end. And the day after to end. Probably the rest of the days of the year to end and wake up in 2019 without any memories of this year.

"Not trying to one-up you but," she sat down, "I haven't slept in like a week. Well, since this started."

Did she sleep in the past few days? She couldn't remember. Everything blended in the same mush of memories until they were indecipherable clunks of thoughts and painful souvenirs. Angie could have been gone for a week or a month or a year, and everything would have been the same.

"I think I have meds for that in my bag." She didn't. She just wanted an excuse to grab one of Ramsey's shirt.

[Buko]

She had pills for that? Made sense, he guessed.

Ace didn’t talk much about his family life with Ramsey and Ramsey had given him the same courtesy (God rest his soul). He had picked up a little bit about Angie just outta proximity. She had issues right? Like upstairs? In the head? She wasn’t quite cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs but her Cheerios had more than a lil’ Honey Nut.

Now that sounds creepier than watchin’ her sleep.

“Yeah, well you got me beat there,” he conceded, “I got pretty lucky out here in that area and shit.”

Yeah, you got lucky alright.

Fuck you, me!

Angie went to get something from her bag and Ace found himself looking towards his shoes—pristine white a few days ago. Not a crease on ‘em. When you like shoes and are poor, well, you take care of your shoes. They were as dirty as he was now--truly. The effort to keep them clean had been as useless and futile as the idea of he himself remaining so. He had spent so many years trying to look solid and dependable. That was the version of himself he wanted the world to see. The running back that never fumbled. The kid that never strayed so far out the lines. Expectations, but not ones that the world put on him…ones he put on himself.

And those weighed more—did that make him fucked up? Selfish? Had he always been? Did it matter?

“I cheated on her two days ago, y’know? While she was out there searchin’ for me, I was fuckin’ the Prom Queen, because, y'know, that's the type of piece of shit I am.”

He let that sit there because, like, what else was there to say beyond that? It had happened. The cake had been baked, the toothpaste had been out the tube.

Shit had been so dramatic in the infirmary and shit had been so anti-climatic in the wilds. It wasn't fair. But the fair was the place where they judged pigs, it didn't exist in real life. 'Specially not out here.

“Mei knew 'bout it, I didn't die lyin' to her and she didn't die bein' lied to. I shoulda lied though, it woulda been better if I had...but I could never keep my cool like that...only thing that was quicker than me spillin' my guts to Mei was me blowin' my load into Ivy," he seemed to realize who he was talking too and also what he had just said, "I'm sorry! That was gross, fuck! But I'm gross--that's the point! I'm gross and dorky and unreliable and so, so, so fuckin' stupid--and Mei knew it," it didn't sound real, if he said it like a joke, it wasn't a big deal if he treated it like a small one--his voice didn't match his resolve, "She stayed with me anyway—believed in me anyway…held me when I was cryin’ over my dead friend anyway…still let me kiss her anyway...”

Why was he voicing this shit to Angie now? What was he tryin’ to accomplish?

“Fuckin’ died for me anyway.”

He had no idea why Meilin would do shit like that, why she would do shit like that for him.

“I didn’t deserve her, I know that…”

He sighed.

“I know that. I knew that...," he shook his head again, "I dunno, whatever, I'm talkin' in circles."

He swallowed his doubts.

“My bad, this ain’t exactly good bed time banter.”

[Melusine]

Angie was clinging to her brother's shirt like a child lost in the dark. It wasn't soft anymore. It didn't feel good to cling to it, but she still did. In a way, she felt his warm through his shirt even if it had never felt colder. His shirt still smelled like him. Angie wanted to rub it on her until it smelled like her. She didn't do it simply because she was being watched. If she were alone, truly alone, Angie merge.

Tragically, the good one had died yesterday and the bad one was still walking around and couldn't wear the good one's skin over theirs. Angie felt sick. He was the one that was supposed to live. And now, she was supposed to live. To survive this because of him so that he could live through her. It wasn't fair.

As she came, there was the revelation she had been waiting for. Ace had cheated on Meilin. A guy had cheated on her once. It hurted her. She still had a scar on her arm to prove it. From time to time, she ran her finger across it to remind herself that what she did was worth it.

"Yeah, you're kinda gross" she said, blankly. She didn't need to think about Ace's semen inside of someone but she did, and fuck, she kinda wanted it. She wasn't even horny, she just wanted warmth. Something else than herself in her, something else than her mind within her head. "But, like, I don't know, this is the pot calling the kettle black so take that with a grain of salt."

Angie scratched her forehead as she sat down with her brother's side on her laps. It felt like she had the flu.

"Anyways, I think she loved you, for whatever my opinion's worth." She was tired of being there, she just wanted to hidden behind a filter. In another life, she would be a blurred face in the background of a class picture, or at least she wished to be.

"The world was watching and she chose to do that." Life was a river with many paths and one of its stone deloged itself into Meilin's bed. It was a quiet slumber that took over the girl. A path she had chosen, a death that she had weaved herself into. Perhaps it was for the best. Angie didn't know. "She might have not totally forgiven you, but she loved you. It took all the love she had to do that, I'm sure of it."

"I wish I could listen to vulnicura right now."

She closed her eyes. Angie held her brother's shirt tightly.

"Stonemilker, yeah..."

[Buko]

“Yeah…,” he said to himself mostly, “You’re right.”

She did love him. She had loved him and he had tried to love her the best he could…but he was eighteen years old from a broken family placed into a terrorist death game--in what world was his best enough? Love? What did he know about love aside from what he had heard in songs and seen in movies?

His parents had failed with each other and everyone else they had tried with. They had a twenty-year history—on and off, off and on, entering and exiting each other’s lives. Is it wrong that he had expected what he had seen? Was he stupid for thinking he was entitled to that at the very least? His parents had gotten the raw deal or so he thought, but their whole set up was looking pretty medium rare where he was standing.

Twenty years to get the whole love thing right? He had been given ten days.

Meilin had no luck in love either, specially not with the dudes she chose: Thotcas, Nick and now Ace. It was the Fuckboy Hall of Fame. Ace was Gayle Sayers—first ballot in less than two weeks. It was impressive if it wasn't so fuckin' sad. How could he have done that to her? Why didn't he think about that or her? Why didn't he pull the trigger at Quinn? Why didn't he hold Meilin's hand when he had spent three days glued to Ivy's? Why? Why? Why?

And Meilin was dead so did any of those questions even fucking matter? Did he just need to victimize and feel guilty? He knew Angie was right, he knew it. Meilin had accepted him and loved him in the moment, when the world was watching, when the chips were down.

Doubting her love was doubting her. He needed to make the most of this grief and anger and fuel. He couldn’t freeze again when face to face with his own destiny. It was life or death out here. Meilin didn’t die for nothing. She couldn’t’ve.

“I wish I had that new J.Cole album, so we on the same page there…,” he said to Angie finally before plopping down, pack on one side, gun in lap, flashlight on the ready, “You tryna get a lullaby from me Angie? Pero no me jodas with that sad white girl croonin' I've heard comin' from your room, y'know I can't sing for shit.”

He didn't mean that, it was just easier if it was a joke.

He didn't want to sing and he didn't want that new J.Cole album--he wanted his mother's music, he wanted Meilin's music and hearing Angie talk about hers just reminded him of what he didn't have. That wasn't fair to Angie, resenting her for having her own tastes and her own shit in her head...still he found himself doing it. He felt bad about it, but he also felt bad about himself so it fit his whole self fulfilling narrative.

“I'm sorry that we both lost the people that we really need to make us feel better," he looked to the sky, "And I'm sorry I never listened to your whack ass music."

He chuckled so she knew it was a joke. It was easier if it was a joke.

[Melusine]

"Don't be sorry about that," she snorted.

"And for the record," she raised her hand, her index lifted like a mother grounding her children, "sometime, girls need an icelandic alien crone to lull us up."

Angie laid her head against her knees again. Could she fall asleep here? She knew for a fact she was tired enough to, but she didn't have the will to close her eyes. It hurt her. Ramsey was probably looking at her right now, prodding and poking through memories. Was he happy? Probably not. He was probably upset and tired, but he was at peace. Angie tried to be at peace too, but she knew there wouldn't but any real rest until the wicked would die.

"So," she closed her eyes, "the elephant in the room." She paused. "Well, forest."

Neither of them wanted to be here. You didn't need to be a rocket scientist to feel the awkwardness.

"If you- well- I-" Angie bit her lips. She needed to make "I" statements. She was clumsy with feelings. It was as if she was juggling with glasses filled with water. "I feel like I need time alone."

She didn't say it, but she felt like Ace needed time alone too.

"But, thank you." She wasn't tearing up but her voice cried for her. "Th-thank you for being with me. It's- it's really appreciated."

They were so small.

[Buko]

“Yeah…,” he responded to her, “Thank you too, I mean it…,” he felt himself ponder what to say, “I know you do too. I've appreciated havin' you with me as well and shit.”

Had she read his mind? Was he so obvious? Of course he was. He knew that and no doubt Angie knew it as well. He wasn’t this deep individual but he wasn’t this strong and courageous person either. He was too much of a coward to admit that he needed time for himself. He was too selfish to do anything truly for himself.

He wanted to be martyred, to be punished—that’s what he felt he needed, that’s what he deserved.

“Yeah, you right, yeah…,” he lacked any and all conviction, “I think, yeah, like, y’know, like, yeah, y’know?”

He lacked all sorta sense.

He got up though, picked up his things, held Angie’s gun and walked towards her.

“Imma go…be alone, y’know, for a bit…,” he nodded and his free hand went to Angie’s chin, lifting it up, he kissed her quick on the cheek, “Stay safe Ange.”

He took a deep breath…was this the right thing? Leaving her? Probably the smartest thing. He couldn’t be counted on to protect her or to guide her through this mess. It was better to pray and to hope for her, but helping her? What help could he really do? He only made things worse.

“We make it to the end, we see each other again—we stick to the plan, for Mei and for Rams,” he whispered, “We go home together or not at all.”

And then he left her the same way he walked…

Alone.
[Ace Beats Continued In: They Didn't Make It ]

[Melusine]

Ace had soft lips.

Angie knew why Meilin liked him.

She closed her eyes quietly. The fluttering of her eyes were usually the loudest thing inside of her mind. It was her own compound triple drum rhythmic pattern. It usually made her chest hurt, but this time, her eyelids were quiet.

She took a breath in, then one out, slowly. The steps were getting farther. Angie didn't know if she could sleep.

The loneliness. The depravity. The aimlessness.

It wasn't gone, but it took a break. It sat next to the car, its arms crossed over its chest. It looked at the lights of the city as it was burning. The towers were falling as they were build. Angie, inside the car, saw her feelings drift and move around. She turned back toward her hands. She had never noticed her hands. They look undeniably edible.

Quiet. It was quiet. The aggression was quiet. It was soft. It was almost like glass that she had chewed on. There were a lot of things she could feel like. Most of them weren't soft or quiet, but right now, in this instant, she had a new moment of clarity. Not enough to understand the vision, but just enough to see it.

She huffed and she heaved. The shirt didn't smell like her brother anymore. It smelled like her. Angie didn't whether or not it was a good thing. Angelina exhaled. Her breath condensed and wrapped around her throat. She breathed in the ice, let it thaw then let it exit her body.

It was only chemistry. There was nothing she could do about it. If she could shape herself into the woman she wanted to be, she didn't know what form or name she would take. Without a doubt though, she became something else. Was she jealous of Meilin? Of Ace? Feelings like hers were made to be question. She exhaled and breath in the fire. Ace and Meilin or rather Meilin and Ace melted underneath her.

She wanted someone to die for her, and she had gotten it. What else did she want? Another proof of love? A letter? A carving in her flesh? What else could make her happy? A kiss? Would a kiss fix her problems? Would it make her smile? Would it make her a better person? If nothing could make her feel better, then why didn't she try to die too? Was it because she was contractually forced to live out a life she didn't want? Was it cruel? Was it pure heroine? Perhaps, maybe, it was just a thought, that she wanted to die for someone.

She opened her eyes.

"Good morning, world."

((Angelina continued somewhere else.))