Page 38 of Shattered Echoes

12

Antonio

“Wow… I’ve never seen you… run that fast before.”

Elias is hunched over a rock, heavy drops of sweat dropping from his forehead, panting: “Honestly, man, what the fuck? I was so sure I was going to blow an artery halfway up.”

I stretch beside him, my arms extending to my sides as I suck in a lungful of air through my nose, smiling. These runs with Elias do more for me than work my muscles. They always make me feel so alive, a natural high that feels even better than all the pills I have ever consumed.

The early morning fog is as thick as a cloud, and the air is cool and damp, stinging my lungs as I breathe. The sun has started its ascent to the east, although the hue is muted by the fog. I’m itching to go again, but Elias is still struggling to catch his breath. Honestly, it surprises me he’s able to keep up as well as he does. I was half expecting him to quit after the first few runs, but he persists, almost as if he has something to prove.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Elias, but that was freaking amazing,” I say, still smiling. I glance at him and feel a little pity for him. “We can walk back the rest of the way if you want, though. I mean, I won’t judge you.”

He sneers at me. “Okay, now you’re just showing off.”

He takes off running down the hill, and I grin, following behind him. I shorten my stride to help him keep up, although the trip down the hill is not half as torturous as it was going up. We veer off the game trail through the woods and take the main road that leads to the center of town. It’s still quiet and the streets are empty.

We wind our way through empty shops and streets, perspiration gathering on our brows. Earlier, these runs helped me keep the darkness at bay. Colette does that for me now, which makes my morning runs even more enjoyable.

My breath mists in the air in front of me, drifting to join the fog that surrounds us. I’ve been running for over an hour, and I still feel well enough to go for another hour.

We leave the town proper behind, approaching the last leg of our normal route. “Sprint to the end?” I ask Elias, who’s flagging beside me.

His brow creases as he frowns. “Shit. Sure, why not?”

We take off, sprinting down the road in sync. When we stop outside my house, Elias doubles over, breathing hard as he clutches his knees. “That’s it. I’m done running with you.”

“Oh, come on,” I say, breathing hard. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, right? I’m not the one built like a fucking tank.” He smiles at me. “You're looking much better, Amato. You fly these days.”

“Feels that way,” I admit, grabbing my water bottle.

Sweat beads on my forehead, my clothes clinging to my skin. My lungs burn, but the endorphin rush is a welcome distraction.

A month. It has been a month since the day I woke up tangled with Colette. I remember feeling her tears drying on my chest, the aftershock of a nightmare clear in the way she clung to me. A month since we tossed logic and caution out the window and surrendered to the undeniable pull between us.

Elias glances at me. “Colette over again?”

“Yeah,” I say, a comfortable warmth spreading through my chest. We don't need labels, not yet. But the familiarity, the easy way we slip between each other's places, speaks volumes.

He studies me for a moment. “She's good for you, man.” He has a pensive look on his face before he continues. “Although I wonder… Are you really helping each other, or are you both pleased to find such a perfect distraction with each other?”

Elias has an annoying, yet impressive way of getting me to talk, and I let myself spill out what’s on my mind most times because talking to him has been helpful. Since we met, he and I have gotten a lot closer than I had thought we would.

I haven’t been the only one sharing about myself, though. I know him as well. It turns out that the reason he started his NGO to help the mentally ill individuals is because his mother was in a psych ward almost all throughout his teenage life, leaving him with his abusive stepdad who reminded him of his place in the house and that he would most probably end up like his mother.

Elias’s mom passed on the day he graduated as valedictorian from high school. Elias experienced anguish on a day that was supposed to be filled with happiness and a sense of accomplishment.

Ever since then, he helped those who are mentally ill so none of them would go through what his mother did. Personally, I think it’s very noble and quite thoughtful. Perhaps that’s why I allowed him to become my friend.

His question stings, but there is truth in it. Both of us carry burdens, secrets we keep close, and it would be detrimental if we didn’t handle things right. However, with Colette, the burden feels lighter, shared.

“Something like that,” I say. The truth–the tangled mess of attraction, vulnerability, and a growing possessiveness is complicated to explain. Does it matter why we cling to each other? All I know is it feels so fucking good. I guess great sex and brilliant company would do that to you, right? I don’t bother explaining to Elias, however. He’s a good guy, but I doubt he would understand.

He nods but lets it go. When he recovers his breath, he stands straighter, holding my shoulder. “I trust you know what you’re doing. I just want you to know that you have a friend here who’s willing to listen. Okay?”

I nod, thinking of Colette, naked and warm in my bed. All I want is to get back to her, wrap her in my arms, and keep her safe from things I can see and things I can’t.

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