timewasting | OPEN POST 2020.

[ inej is a light sleeper without the nightmares, but it only takes a shift in the weight of kaz next to her for her to blink her eyes open, a little blearily with sleep. but adrenaline jolts her awake, as kaz suddenly moves to the bathroom, and she can hear the retching.

something in her chest twists, as she pushes herself up to sit, her hair falling along her shoulders. she says nothing, knowing that when it's this bad, touching him is a horrible idea. but nonetheless, she's about to get up to move to the bathroom when he reemerges to sink back onto the bed. but he doesn't move to get back into bed properly, or come near her.

so she frowns to herself before gently shifting the blankets, moving to get up on the opposite end, circling around to sit in the chair near the bed, pulling her feet up onto the seat, wrapping her arms around her knees. ]

You should lay down.

[ quietly, inclining her head toward the bed, which is now empty, eyes searching his face. ]

It will help.

[ Part of him wants to sob; backsliding this hard is so frustrating. He'd been making such progress. The last time he had a fit this bad had almost been a year ago. Maybe a little more than that.

Because they'd been careful, adding a little more touch here and there. Both for his benefit and hers. And now here he was, feeling shivery and weak and small, just like when he'd first dragged himself out of the damn harbor.

Inej's gentle voice annoys him, but he bites his tongue, recognizing that he isn't actually angry at her. Just at the situation. At himself, for a seeming inability to get past this. Her suggestion isn't a bad one, once he swallows down the irrational irritation, and he shakily pulls the covers up over his shoulders, sinking back onto the pillow. His heart still feels like it's racing, even as he looks over at her, trying to use the details to ground himself.

When he blinks, though, he just thinks of cold water and burning muscles, of a panic so bright and sharp it had felt like the fever still clinging. ]

[ she can tell that he's swallowing something back, but he ultimately says nothing and does as he's told, laying back down. and only when he does that does inej move, pulling the chair closer, alongside the bed, sitting in the chair with her legs crossed underneath her.

touching him is a bad idea, though her heart aches and she wants nothing more than to climb into bed with him, to hold him, and reassure him that he is fine. but he's still wrapped in whatever he is struggling with, and touching him will only make it worse.

or . . . well, touching his skin would probably make it worse. touching the blanket might be okay, but she doesn't want to risk it. ]

Shhh. [ it's a soothing noise, not moving to touch him yet, her hands still in her lap. ] You are with me, in Ravka. We are going to order blini for breakfast in the morning after sleeping in. We might go to the docks if we feel like it.

[ and, finally, inej reaches out to gently pet his hair, careful not to touch skin, her voice calm and gentle. ]

Whatever is in your mind is something you have already conquered. You already survived it. Okay?

[ The physical part is difficult, but the mental hurdle is harder. Telling oneself to think about something else is almost impossible. What Inej says helps, a better memory cutting through the film strip of bad ones; eating blini for the first time, at that outside cafe.

There's also the matter of her careful touch. An unintentional shudder runs through him when he feels the first brush of her palm against his hair. But it isn't touching skin, giving him something else to focus on. Something that isn't his mind replicating his brother's dead body under his hands. ]

I— [ Kaz pauses, searching for the right words. Not wanting to blurt out everything in a rush. Just enough to make sense. ] —No docks.

[ He doesn't even want to think about them, correlating too much right now. Because he'd left Jordie at one and hadn't been able to go back. Would the skeleton be there, if he looked? He's not even sure which one it is, memory fuzzy. He blinks away the burning sensation in his eyes, pulling the blanket tighter to himself. ]

Yes. [ Well... ] No. I don't know.

[ ah, so the docks was a bad suggestion. she doesn't comment on it again, instead focusing on stroking his hair, watching his facial expression carefully as she listens. ]

We have conquered everything we have ever had put in our path, right?

[ murmured, as she watches him pull the blanket tighter, her heart twisting uncomfortably. she wishes she could make it better, but it's difficult to do so when she doesn't know what causes this. ]

And this will be no different. Hm?

[ almost encouraging, as she gently threads her fingers through his hair, still careful not to touch skin. ]

You might be alone inside your head, but you aren't alone, here. We will get through it, no matter how long it takes. Try taking a deep breath.

[ Something finally gives. He doesn't know what pushes him that last little bit. Maybe it's the reassurance that he's not alone right now. Not like he had been when the plague ran through the city. Jordie had been nearby but neither of them were very coherent. He'd felt alone then, through the hazy fever, and pulling himself out of the harbor had sealed his fate.

She's right, though, and his normal reticence breaks, voice thick as he swallows the unexpected sob. ]

I miss him so much.

[ her heart aches, as he finally says something. Inej doesn’t need to ask who he is. there’s only one person that has such a hold over Kaz that he would say he missed, and inej hums softly, to soothe him. ]

I know you do.

[ softly, as she continues to stroke his hair. and she decides to gently press, giving him the chance to talk, if he wants to. ]

Does he visit your dreams often?

It's never a good dream.

[ He can count on one hand the times his dreams have been of better memories. Instead, it's variations of everything horrible they'd gone through. Sometimes, it's twisted versions of the events, his brother accusing him of leaving him behind. ]

I didn't even get to say goodbye. We were both so sick, I can't even remember when he died. [ But he does remember the realization cutting through the delirium. He hadn't mistaken it for a hallucination, that glassy eyed look so telling. ]

I thought after Rollins was gone, this would get better.

You have gotten better, Kaz. This has not happened in a long time, and you get better every single day.

[ her voice is quiet, and she pauses before shifting her hand to gently brush the loose locks of hair out of his eyes, fingertips still avoiding touching skin. ]

But scars are still healing wounds. And anger and hatred doesn’t let you heal. You need to let yourself grieve, to heal.

[ she tilts her head slightly, her lips pursing together. she only knows tiny details, of jordie’s death. and Kaz is giving her a better picture now... the plague that swept ketterdam.

it doesn’t explain the docks, or why he can’t touch. but he’s talking, and inej is loathe to pry too much and have him stop. ]

It is not your fault that he passed away, or that you couldn’t say goodbye. You know that, in your heart.

I should've argued with him more. When Rollins offered to invest the money, it didn't feel right.

[ How could he have known, though? The only adults he had interacted with up until then had better intentions. The people of Lij had been the honest type, content to stay on their farms and offer the occasional neighborly hand.

Ketterdam had seemed so fantastic upon arrival. He'd wanted to believe anything was possible. ]

We were so young and stupid. [ Except he doesn't sound as angry about that in the moment. Just...tired. ] I wish—either of us had paid attention to dad more, before he died.

[ None of it was really his fault, but there's still the oppressive sense of what if? At the same time, there's a strange relief in saying it aloud. Poison from a wound, as Inej terms it. ]

Rollins shouldn’t have taken advantage of two little boys in a new city.

[ softly, but firmly, and inej unfolds her legs to stand, only to sit on the edge of the bed. she’s careful not to touch him, but she is closer, so she can get a better look at his face, brushing back his hair again. ]

You need to learn how to forgive yourself.

[ for a lot of things, but jordie, especially. ]

You did nothing wrong.

[ No, he shouldn't have. And that's what he'd ultimately paid for. Maybe if Pekka had remembered Jordie's name he would've been less harsh. Maybe.

But he hadn't. He'd crushed the lives of two young boys and hadn't even remembered their names and faces. ]

I left him. [ His voice is quiet, fingers curling into the edge of the blanket. ] In the harbor. They'd taken us both out to that island, during the plague.

[ Was it better or worse not to be left to a mass grave? ]

[ her fingers still, at that, surprised, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

that island... where they burned the dead, likely. why had they brought two living boys on the boats for the dead? that didn’t make any sense.

— well, unless they were dead. or they were thought to be dead. what has Kaz said earlier, that he didn’t even know when jordie had died ... which had to have meant Kaz was alive, but still on the boat? with jordie’s body? but it wouldn’t just be jordie’s body...

it paints a grisley image. inej heard stories, of the plague. of the death carriers, the stacks of bodies. and as she puts it together, it paints an image of someone on a boat surrounded by dead bodies, but still alive. ]

Oh, Kaz.

[ it’s soft, in a breath, as the pieces begin to knit together. kaz’s difficulty with touching skin, and the water . . . he had to have gotten off the boat somehow. it stirs a fierce protectiveness in her, a white hot anger that she rarely feels. ]

What I did to Pekka Rollins was not enough.

[ He hears it, the moment she puts all the pieces together. Whether she has all the right details, well, it doesn't really matter. She has the general understanding at least, for why touch petrified him for so long.

And why it still gives him problems now. He wants so badly to curl up with her, the story settling between them like a blanket. Because she understands, even if his mind is rejecting any logical argument at the current moment. But the idea of touching her right now is a little too much. ]

He won't be back, that's enough. [ All of his business has collapsed. A few more years and Rollins will just be a rumor. A warning, perhaps.

Carefully, he uncurls his fingers from the blanket, hesitantly touching the hem of her shirt. His shirt, really. Little steps, because he's tired of feeling so isolated. ]

[ he reaches for her . . . or, at least, touches the hem of the shirt she's wearing. which, indeed, is his shirt, and inej's lips twitch into a faint smile. she doesn't move to touch him yet, allowing him to set the pace, to decide when he feels ready to touch her. ]

You will conquer this.

[ it's quiet, her smile still present. ]

Do you know how I know that?

[ His thumb and forefinger rub the hem of the shirt as he works himself up to doing more. He swallows down the bit of nausea, because this is Inej. Beautiful and so very alive. If he were to put his fingers to her wrist, he'd feel the steady beat of her pulse. ]

Hm? [ His gaze finds hers in the dim light, questioning, curious. ]

[ she remains still, silently cursing her decision to not wear pants to bed on this evening. not that she could have known . . . kaz hadn't had this bad of a reaction in a long time. but he seems to be slowly warming back up to himself, watching her face, gaze focused. ]

Because you are Kaz Brekker.

[ simply.

kaz conquers everything in his path. it's a blessing, and a curse. he allows no stone unturned, no problem unsolved. there was nothing in his path that blocked him from getting his way, or solving an issue that he deemed solvable. kaz brekker would solve murders the police found unsolvable just by reading the newspaper. his brain worked a million miles per hour, whereas everyone else was just slow.

he could conquer this, if he put his mind to it. and inej knew that he would, because he had. he held her hand, and kissed her, and held her, and slept alongside her, all things that were impossible, not even three years ago, but now . . . easy. relatively.

and as she watches him play with the hem of her shirt, she adds: ]

And because I am always right.

[ usually. ]

[ Her truthful immodesty startles a quiet laugh out of him. It breaks some of the painful tension, shaking away the cobwebs of bad memories that are trying to cling on.

Because she has a point. She's almost always right and he frequently has ignored that. Usually to his detriment. ]

I'm aware. [ He moves his hand away from the hem of the shirt, fingers twirling a small curl into a lock of her hair instead. This is still safe. There's no feeling of water creeping up around his ankles. ]

Rietveld. It was originally Rietveld.

[ her eyebrows arch slightly at that, and she mulls over the last name in her head . . . it makes sense, she supposes. to just ditch the old name and find a new one, to get rid of whoever that boy was that first came to ketterdam. and the tattoo on his arm makes more sense now, too. ]

You have always been just Kaz to me, anyway.

[ after a moment, before she reaches up to pull her hair all to one side of her neck, so he has easier reach of her hair, if he wants to continue to play with it, careful not to touch his hands with her own. ]

But your secret is safe with me.

[ as always. ]

Do you want me to make you tea? To help you go back to sleep.

[ The corner of his mouth lifts as she moves her hair to drape over her shoulder. He runs his fingers through the strands, carefully working out a couple loose knots. His motion pauses at the bottom of her hair, fingertips just barely pressing against her back, the fabric of her shirt making it safer. ]

Thank you. [ And he knows that secret will follow her to the grave. Just as he keeps all of hers. ]

Okay. [ Something warm sounds...helpful. ] Can you come back to bed?

[ she nods, at his request to come back to bed, a small smile in place before she stands, moving toward the kettle in the corner. it takes only a short amount of time to light the burner underneath it and make tea, inej depositing the cup on the bedside table near kaz before she moves to her own side of the bed.

first, though, inej fishes a pair of sleep pants out of her bag and tugs them on wordlessly. it looks a little silly, with the oversized shirt, but after she does that, she slips back into bed, careful not to touch as he sips his tea. ]

Thank you, for telling me that.

[ after a moment, not quite laying down, resting on her elbows as she watches him. ]

[ He sits up and takes the cup, gently blowing across the top before taking a careful sip. It's a little too hot so he simply holds onto it for now, leaning against the headboard. ]

I should've said something a while ago.

[ Keeping it so close hadn't been fair to her. In a lot of ways, it had made it more difficult, not knowing the why. They could've avoided some accidents earlier on if he'd just said something.

But, it's all out on the table now at least. And he feels strangely relieved, despite the emotional drain. ]

You need to stop doing that.

[ her tone is only slightly chiding, watching him hold his tea, leaning back against the headboard, letting him continue to relax.

and just in case he needs additional clarification, she continues, voice soft: ]

Dwelling on what should have happened instead of what did.

[ there's no real changing what has already transpired, so the only way to look is forward, and building upon what they have now. ]

[ The tea cooling, he takes another careful sip. It seems to be helping him relax, the hot liquid settling the knots his stomach had twisted itself into. ]

I'm not very good at letting go.

[ Understatement of the century. Sometimes, that trait works out, like it did with taking down Rollins. Or when he puts together a scheme—he sees it through, doggedly.

But it also backfires, in instances like this. He also has a horrible track record of never saying goodbye, because that means letting go. However temporary or permanent that may be.

Unlearning that particular thing will take some time. He knows she's right though, it's not good to dwell. This at least is a step in the right direction. ]

I know.

[ with a slight tilt of her head, the corner of her mouth tugging upward as she watches him drink his tea. it isn't often, that he's vulnerable and willing to talk with her, even now. so she wants to take advantage of the opportunity, while he's comfortable enough to do so. ]

But letting go doesn't mean whatever happened is gone forever. Or that it hasn't changed you, or shaped you. Letting go just means opening yourself to something new.

[ she could spend eternity, dwelling on what her life could have been, before the slavers. and she did, for a good amount of time. but clawing her way to freedom has allowed her to create a new narrative, a new story. she isn't sure whether or not it's a better one, but it's the one she has now, which is what's most important. ]

OPEN POST 2020.

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