Not the vacant wilderness vying
travis hasn’t said a word since they got here.
he stands stiffly in front of the headstone, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to curl in on himself. nat watches him, her own breath visible in the cold air, cigarette burning low between her fingers.
javí martínez.
the letters on the stone are too sharp. too neat. too fucking final.
nat takes a slow drag, the smoke burning her throat. she wants to say something, but the words catch before they make it out.
so she just stands there.
travis swallows. his jaw is tight, like he’s holding something back. he glances at the other grave, just a few feet away. bill martínez. his dad.
nat doesn’t look at javi’s grave. she never wants to fucking look at it.
“he was just a kid,” travis mutters finally, voice hoarse. “he was just a fucking kid.”
nat exhales. flicks the cigarette to the ground and grinds it out with her boot.
“yeah,” she says, eyes wet. “he was.”
they lapse into silence again. the wind cuts through her jacket, but she barely feels it.
travis lets out a sharp breath, almost a laugh, but there’s nothing funny about it.
“i think about it all the time,” he says suddenly.
nat glances at him.
“what?”
travis doesn’t look at her.
“just… ending it.” his voice is too steady, like he’s talking about something simple. like he’s talking about the fucking weather. “i think about it more than i don’t.”
nat’s stomach twists. but she doesn’t act shocked, doesn’t try to tell him don’tsaythat or youdon’tmeanit.
because she gets it.
she really fucking gets it.
“yeah,” nat chokes out “me too.”
travis finally looks at her. his face is blank, but his eyes are dark, like there’s too much in there, pressing against his ribs, trying to get out.
“i just keep thinking… what’s the fucking point?” his hands twitch in his pockets. “we survived all that, for what? everyone treats us like we’re freaks. we can’t even talk about what actually happened. no one fucking gets it. javi’s dead. my mom’s dead. my dad—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “i don’t know why i’m still here.”
nat swallows. she looks at the headstone again, at the name carved into the stone, the little beloved son and brother underneath it.
“i don’t either,” she admits. “but you are.”
travis lets out a breath. his hands come out of his pockets, arms crossing over his chest like he’s holding himself together.
“yeah,” he mutters. “for now.”
nat presses her lips together. she thinks about the pills in her bedside drawer. the nights she’s spent staring at them, turning the bottle over in her hands, wondering how easy it would be.
“if you ever do it,” she says, voice quiet, “i probably will too.”
travis blinks.
nat looks at him, tilting her head slightly.
“so don’t,” she says. “and i won’t either.”
he stares at her for a long moment, eyes flickering like he’s trying to decide if she’s serious.
then he exhales. nods.
“okay,” he says “you don’t either. swear you won’t.” Travis reached out his hand, his pinky extended.
Nat cracked a half smile and reached out, interlocking their pinkies “I pinky promise I won’t kill myself.”
“I pinky promise I won’t kill myself either” Travis laughed, though his jaw was still shaking.
they stood there a little longer, side by side, letting the cold settle into their bones.