Sig’s body stiffens, and she leans back. “You’re an idiot, Jorn Whitehollow!” she screams as she slaps his shoulder and chest repeatedly.
“Never argued with that,” he says. He captures her lips in a quick kiss before she pushes him off her. He erupts in a fit of laughter mixed with more coughing, and the terrifying moment of losing one of the crew has disappeared.
Everyone disperses, heading back to different places in the Oasis, but the mood is less jovial.
Sig leads him up the beach, away from the crowd. She is already looking him over and probably scolding him some more.
Fin still clutches my leg, and I bend down and peel his arms off. He still looks stricken, and I wonder if, like me, he also hasn’t seen death, despite enduring his sister’s illness.
“Hey,” I say, crouching down to his level. “Jorn is alright, see?”
He looks past me to where Jorn and Sig sit, and nods.
“I know that was very scary. I was scared too. But it’s alright now. We don’t have to be scared anymore. We just need to make sure we stay safe in the future, alright?”
He nods solemnly. “Can I go back and play now?”
“Of course. Come find me if you need me, alright?”
“Thanks, Lennox.” He throws his arms around my neck and squeezes me tightly before running back toward the rock slides.
I watch as he climbs the stairs to the top, tracking him until he’s with someone else. The last thing we all need is another incident.
My eyes snag on someone still on the beach, and I look over to find Weston sitting alone, staring out over the Oasis, watching everyone get back into the activities from before the interruption. His forearms rest on his bent knees, and I can see how tight his shoulders are from here.
Without thinking, I traipse through the sand and sink down next to him, crossing my legs under me. I don’t speak. No words feel right, so I just sit and watch everyone as he does.
Finally, I say the only feeling that I can put into words. “I’m glad Jorn is alright.”
He doesn’t answer. The only acknowledgment that he’s heard me is the tick of a muscle in his jaw.
“Does that happen often? Not with Jorn, specifically, just in general?”
“No.”
His gaze stays trained ahead, his body still wound tight as he sits with whatever is going on in his mind. Heavy breaths heave through his nose, and I feel like his teeth might crack under the tension of his jaw.
“It doesn’t happen often,” he finally murmurs, “but it isn’t easy when it does.”
Vulnerable Weston is not a side of him I’ve seen. The closest instance may be the first moment we met, but other circumstances kept me from noticing it any more than in hindsight. I don’t think he shows it often, and even when he feels it, it still seems like he tries to hide it from the crew.
I lean to the side slightly, enough that our shoulders barely touch. I don’t really know what it is like to be there for someone when they need it, but it feels like Weston needs it. Our skin barely brushes and I feel him let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing a bit before pressing a little more firmly into mine.
I feel a pang in my chest, and a lump forms in my throat. Weston is constantly putting up a show of strength and leadership for the crew. He’s there when everyone needs him, but who is there when he needs it? From the way I found him sitting alone on the beach, it doesn’t seem like anyone.
I clear my throat. “Where did Sig learn to do that?”
“She’s from Berrendahr. Spending so much time on the water, it’s something they all learn to do.”
“Did she teach you?”
He nods, eyes still trained straight ahead.
I glance down at my fingers in my lap, nervously winding them together. I want to know, but I’m afraid to ask, so I keep my eyes trained on my fidgeting fingers so I don’t have to look at him.
“Is that what you did for me?”
My lips start to tingle, thinking back to how Sig saved Jorn, pressing into his chest, breathing breath into his mouth and I remember back to that day.
