Chapter 485 - 486: I Used To Hate You.

Chapter 485: Chapter 486: I Used To Hate You.

Gold he doesn’t even have anymore.

...They’d never gotten to do that again.

The thought makes Khobi’s shoulders sag, and he looks down at the shirt in his hands to find that he’s accidentally crumpled it. Suddenly, it’s not quite as ugly as he remembers once thinking it was. Maybe he ought to wear it tonight. It’s Rogard’s party, after all; he’d probably be mad if he didn’t make an effort to dress up a little. And that way, he’ll be able to take one of them with him. It probably won’t look the same by the time they reach Scargga, but even if it arrives in tatters at least it’ll be a souvenir of his time here; a physical piece of evidence that he and Rogard were friends.

The least torn of his other clothes and miscellaneous leathers he lays out on his bed; whatever looks like it’ll be able to last the time on the road. Everything else goes back in the trunk, although when Khobi gets to his favourite shirt –the one Binny has painstakingly had mended for him despite how insistent he was that the thing needed to be burned –he hesitates, because while it’s definitely seen better days, it’s him through his far, hasn’t it?

He can’t quite bring himself to leave it –not yet, not while it has life yet –so onto the bed it goes, along with his heavy winter cloak. It’s too warm to wear it these days but they’ve got to pass through mountains and spring weather can be unpredictable so he’ll no doubt be grateful to have it. He lays his sword down next to it, along with a small pouch that holds the last of his gold, a set of dice, a pack of cards, and a tiny scrap of paper with just eight little words scrawled into it.

Set against the blankets of the enormous bed that Khobi’s come to think of as his own, it makes for a depressingly small pile.

It’s strange, the sobering realisation that last night he slept in it for the last time and had no idea.

Come dawn, it won’t be his anymore. Maybe, in a way, it never was; just a space he shared for a time. After all, there’s barely any sign that he was ever here; just a dip in the pillows and the contents of this trunk. Even the pile of blankets he once insisted on sleeping on –it sounds insane, just thinking about it –has long since been cleared away.

It makes him a little sad. Because in time the dip in the pillows will fade, and everything left in this trunk will probably find its way to a new home. After that, well. Then there’ll be nothing left at all.

It hurts to think that one day Loac might find someone else to fill the space on what was once his side of the bed, so Khobi decides not to think about it. Which is hard, seeing as it’s just as he’s sealing up his trunk that he hears the door creak open –no footsteps, no warning, no words; just the sound of the door slowly swinging open. Instinctively, he knows it’s Loac. Just as instinctively he knows the moment he sees him standing there in the doorway that something’s off.

"...Hey, I was wondering where you went –" Khobi states, only for his brow to furrow and his gut to twist when he catches sight of his face. He’s done away with the jarring, not-smile that had had cold fingers tightening around his throat and clawing their way down into his chest, but the pinched, glassy look of resignation is no less terrible. "...What’s wrong?"

Loac gives him a heavy look; eyes creased like just the question itself causes him pain. Gods, Khobi hates seeing him look like that; wants to find whatever wound it is that’s made him make that face and hold him until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

"Nothing," he mutters, and Khobi’s been watching him for long enough to know from the way he ducks his gaze that it’s a lie.

"Don’t give me that bullshit, Loac," he scoffs, shaking his head because this guy never makes things easy, does he? "I know you better than that."

"If you know me so well then you should know what’s wrong." Khobi hasn’t heard that tone from him in a while, and his eyes narrow as he turns to look at him. Loac seems to know how harsh it’s come out because his jaw tightens and he obstinately refuses to look him in the eye; instead focusing his gaze upon the small pile of clothes Khobi’s set aside on the bed. And just like that he understands that he’s already split his things into those he’s keeping and those he’s leaving behind, and which of those he’s going to be. "...What does it matter anyway?" he adds dismissively, eyes cast dark and gloomy. Resigned. "...You’re leaving."

He probably hadn’t meant to, but in a way he’s answered Khobi’s question.

Briefly, Khobi flashes back to that horrible, gut-wrenching smile, and feels his chest constrict; wracked with guilt, that he’s the reason for that pain.

Devastated.

"...You know I have to," he says firmly; hackles already rising in preparation to defend himself; to go on the offensive if he has to. Because that’s how it is with them, right? They bite, they snarl, Loac pushes, Khobi pushes harder; one poking and prodding until the other gives chase. But that’s not what happens at all; Loac doesn’t come for him like he was expecting. Like he was hoping, maybe? In fact, he just grits his teeth and doesn’t say a word. "...What, you’re not gonna try stop me?" he queries as he turns back to bundle up his cloak; voice softer and more subdued, because deep down, he’s always known that he wouldn’t, hasn’t he?

Loac lets out a bark of laughter at that; a sharp bitter sound that doesn’t sound like laughter at all. At least, not the kind that Khobi’s come to know. "...You’d hate me if I did," he shrugs; bitter, like the very thought is enough to make him miserable.

"...I used to hate you," Khobi admits on a sigh, eyes cast low, "...I don’t think I can anymore." Swallowing, he looks back over his shoulder. Loac’s still stood there in the doorway; eyes cast dark and brooding; both hands stuffed in his pockets with a casualness that feels entirely forced. It makes Khobi suddenly aware of what he’s left sitting at his belt; a weight he’s grown so used to carrying with him that he’d almost completely forgotten about it, and probably would have taken away with him without realising.