The weight of silence
Guest's POV
Guest felt it in his bones before his eyes even opened—the dull ache of exhaustion settling deep, weighing him down like a lead blanket. He hadn’t slept. He never really did. But last night had been… different.
The run through the woods, the weight of Chance's gaze, the things left unsaid hanging between them—it had stirred something in him. Something he hadn’t had the energy to examine, not when the night had been so fleetingly light.
Now, in the harsh light of morning, it just felt heavy.
He sat up with a quiet groan, rubbing a hand down his face. Outside the thin walls of the cabin, he could hear the others moving around—someone laughing, the scrape of a chair against the floor. Normal sounds. Routine.
For a moment, he considered staying in bed. Shutting his eyes for just a few more minutes.
But then his stomach twisted sharply, a familiar nausea rolling through him. Right. He hadn’t eaten. Again.
Sighing, he forced himself up, pulling on a clean shirt before stepping out of his room.
The cabin was already stirring, the scent of something frying in the pan mixing with stale cabin air.
Elliot was perched at the table, chatting with 007N7 about something, while C00lkidd animatedly waved his hands mid-story. Chance—
Chance was sitting on the counter, flipping that damn coin of his. His eyes flicked up when Guest entered, just for a second. Then, like always, he looked away first.
Guest exhaled through his nose and headed for the kitchen, leaning against the counter near the stove.
- “Food ready yet?”
- “Almost,” Elliot replied, glancing over his shoulder. “You should actually eat this time.”
Guest smirked, shaking his head.
- “What, you worried about me, kid?”
Elliot rolled his eyes but didn’t answer, instead nudging a plate toward him. Guest took it, more out of obligation than hunger, and sat down at the table. The food looked fine. Decent, even. But his stomach was still twisting, his body already rejecting the idea of keeping anything down.
He instead gave his plate to Schedletsky, since he knew he wouldn't reject it. Schedletsky looked at him for a moment before just nodding.
Across the table, Chance was watching him again. Subtle. Not obvious. But Guest could feel it.
It was almost funny. Almost.
The morning dragged on in a blur. The group went about their usual tasks—checking supplies, discussing whatever nonsense C00lkidd was rambling about. Guest went through the motions, nodding when appropriate, answering when necessary.
And then, at some point, the exhaustion started creeping in.
It started as a dull haze at the edges of his vision, a weight pressing against his skull. He ignored it. He always ignored it. But then his hands started feeling heavy. His breathing was off. His limbs felt disconnected from the rest of him, his movements sluggish.
He leaned against the wall, blinking hard.
He was fine. He just needed a minute.
- “Hey. You good?”
Chance’s voice cut through the fog. Sharp. Too sharp.
Guest swallowed, forcing a smirk.
- “Why are you worried about me again?”
Chance didn’t laugh. Didn’t roll his eyes. Just kept staring, that sharp gaze of his pinning Guest in place.
- “You look like shit.”
Guest exhaled, shaking his head.
- “Appreciate the honesty.”
He pushed off the wall, intending to walk it off, shake off the weight pressing down on him. But the second he moved, the world tilted—
His stomach lurched. His vision flickered.
And then—
Nothing.
The ground rushed up too fast to catch, and everything went black.
Guest had no idea how long he had been out.
It felt like mere moments, yet the world he awoke to was different.
The sounds of the cabin were muffled, like he was submerged underwater.
For a brief second, he was unsure where he was, trapped in that disorienting fog between consciousness and dreams. But then, as the haze began to lift, the details of the previous night flooded back.
He remembered the thrill of the chase through the woods, the cool air rushing past him, the adrenaline pounding in his veins.
He recalled the feeling of Chance near him, the way their eyes had locked, the tension so thick it was almost palpable.
But it was the lingering silence—the things left unspoken—that twisted in his gut now.
??- “Guest?”
The voice was soft but urgent. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus. The blurry figure above him slowly came into view, and he recognized the freckled face of Elliot. The kid looked worried, his brow furrowed in concern.
“Hey, stay with me. You fainted.”
- “Yeah… I got that,” Guest croaked, his throat dry and scratchy. He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he fell back against the cool wooden floor. -“What… what happened?”
????-“You just collapsed,” Elliot said, his voice steadying. “I was right here. You just… dropped.”
Guest closed his eyes, feeling the weight of embarrassment settle over him.
He hated this feeling—this vulnerability.
He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who kept it together.
Not the one who crumpled to the floor like a broken toy.
He pushed a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure.
- “I’m fine,” he lied, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace.
- “No, you’re not,” Chance’s voice cut in, sharper than before.
Guest turned his head to the side, and there was Chance, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His expression was a mix of concern and frustration, making it hard for Guest to look him in the eye.
- “I’m just tired,” Guest replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s nothing.”
- “Nothing?” Chance scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “You don’t just faint for ‘nothing.’ What’s going on with you?”
Guest felt the heat rise in his cheeks. The last thing he wanted was to explain himself. To peel back those layers and expose the raw, aching truth. He didn’t owe Chance anything. Didn’t owe anyone anything. But the weight of those unspoken emotions felt heavier than he had anticipated.
- “I said I’m fine,” he repeated, but the edge in his voice betrayed him.
- “Fine, huh?” Chance raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You’ve been running on empty for weeks, and you think that’s ‘fine’?”
- “I’m not running on empty,” Guest snapped, irritation flaring up. “I can handle it. I always have.”
- “Yeah? And look where that’s gotten you,” Chance shot back, his voice low but intense. “You’re a damn mess, Guest. Just admit it.”
The words cut deeper than Guest expected, slicing through his carefully constructed walls. He hated how Chance could see right through him, how he could unravel the tightly wound threads of his fa?ade with just a few words. It made him feel exposed, like a raw nerve laid bare.
-“Why do you care?” he retorted, his voice sharper than intended. “It’s not like it affects you.”
-“Because I do care,” Chance replied, his voice steady, unwavering. “I’m not going to pretend everything is fine when it’s not. You’re pushing yourself too hard, and I’m worried about you.”
The sincerity in Chance’s eyes threw Guest off balance.
It was disarming, and he didn’t know how to respond.
No one had cared about him like that before—not in a long time.
He had spent years building walls to keep people out, convinced that vulnerability was a weakness.
But here was Chance, unafraid to step into that space.
-“Look, I appreciate it,” Guest said, his voice softer now, almost tentative, “but I can take care of myself.”
-“Clearly,” Chance replied, crossing his arms again, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, like he knew they were circling around something important. “But you don’t have to. We’re all in this together. You don’t have to carry the weight alone.”
Guest’s heart raced at the implication. Together.
The word echoed in his mind, stirring something deep within him.
He had never allowed anyone to share his burdens, never wanted to.
But the night before, the way Chance had looked at him, the way they had run side by side—it had awakened something in him, a longing he had buried for far too long.
-“I don’t want to be a burden,” Guest finally admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I don’t want to drag anyone down with me.”
Chance’s expression softened, and the tension in the air shifted.
- “You’re not a burden, Guest. You’re a part of this team. We look out for each other. That’s how it works.”
The weight of those words settled over him, and he felt something crack within him, a fissure in the armor he had worn for so long. It was terrifying and freeing all at once. “I don’t know if I can do that,” he whispered.
“Then let us help you,” Elliot said, stepping closer.
And in that moment, Guest felt the walls he had built come crumbling down, piece by piece.
He had always thought he had to be strong, that he had to prove himself.
But maybe strength also meant allowing others in, allowing them to support him when he couldn’t stand on his own.
- “fine..” he said, the word feeling foreign on his tongue.
- “Good,” Chance replied, relief washing over his features. “Now, let’s get you up off this floor.”
With Chance’s help, Guest pushed himself into a sitting position, then leaned heavily against the wall as he slowly got to his feet. The dizziness had faded, replaced by a warm sensation coursing through him.
- “See? Not so hard,” Chance said, a playful glint back in his eyes. “Now, how about some actual food?”
Guest chuckled, the sound feeling light and genuine.
- “Yeah, I could use that.”
They made their way to the kitchen, Elliot went back to the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, while C00lkidd animatedly recounted some story to 007N7, who listened with a bemused expression, but his expressions was a bit concerned when he looked at guest..
Two time was talking to Schedletsky about his cult and Builderman was just listening
- “Looks like we missed breakfast,” Chance murmured, grabbing a plate and sliding it toward Guest.
- “I won’t eat all of this,” Guest protested, but he took the plate anyway, the comforting smell of pancakes wafting up to him.
- “Just try,” Chance encouraged, his gaze steady. “One bite at a time.”
As they sat at the table, Guest felt a strange sense of camaraderie wash over him. Maybe it was the food, or maybe it was the promise of support. But for the first time in a long while, he felt the weight of the world lighten, just slightly.
?- “Hey, Guest,” C00lkidd said, catching his attention. “You okay now? You kinda dropped like a dead fly.."
-“Yeah, I’m good,” Guest replied, lifting his fork and taking a tentative bite, sighing at being called a 'dead fly' by a literal child “Just needed a moment.”
- “Just don’t make it a habit,” 007N7 chimed in, grinning. “You give us enough drama as it is.”
And in that light, he found a sense of belonging he had long thought was lost. The road ahead would still have its challenges, but with Chance and the others by his side, Guest felt ready to face whatever came next.. Or so he thought..