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His face is so serious I almost smile. But the sense of everything I’ve ever wanted falling into place is too profound for that. Because I get it now: whether I’ve been wanting things or searching for them my whole damn life, it doesn’t matter anymore.

I’ve already found them.

After checking I’m not too battered to leave without brotherly supervision, Seth takes Folk home. Two bikes follow his car, but I’ve lost track of who’s where. Who’s already gone, who stayed.

Everyone but Oscar.

The world feels super still.

Until it doesn’t and I realise the discordant juddering is me. I’m shaking, as though my body knew Folk needed to go home before it could truly fall apart.

“You need food.” Oscar slides an arm around my waist, already an expert at avoiding the stitched gash on my grimy torso. “Come inside.”

“I need to check the fields. And the weather reports.”

“The fields can wait. I am watching the weather, mielasis.”

I don’t catch that last part. Either Oscar’s speaking a different language or the weird pressure in my head is smothering my brain.

Regardless, he steers me into the house—to the couch I’ve yet to find the time to sit on. His couch. Soft and worn, and though it’s been who knows where since the start of the year, the scent of Oscar’s house clings to the fabric.

How did I not notice that before?

My hands are sore and my head really hurts. I rub my temples, dimly aware of Oscar moving around before he comes to crouch in front of me.

“Drink this.”

“Hmm?”

He presses a glass of pink liquid into my hand. “Electrolytes. Mal left them for you.”

“Mal?”

“He was here all night with me. Drink and eat. Then you can sleep, yes?”

It sounds so simple. But the glass feels like my enemy. It takes me a couple of attempts to drain it, and I regret it instantly. Liquid sloshes in my stomach, ominous and wet. I rise on shaky legs. “I need a shower.”

“I can help you?”

“I’m okay.”

Oscar lets me go. I don’t realise he’s trailed me to the foot of the stairs until I look back for no reason whatsoever. “Leave the door open.”

I nod and keep going. Ditch my clothes on the floor and turn the shower on. I can’t hear the spray hit the tiles, but it feels loud. Everything does, and I can’t get the water right.

Too hot, too cold.

Nothing in between.

I shut it off and brace my hands on the sink. My skull throbs and for a moment I’m fifteen again and wondering if my brain is about to bleed out of my ears.

Then my stomach wrenches, acid sears my throat, and I lose the electrolytes I drank downstairs.

I’m far from done. But I need that shower.

I settle for cold water and stand beneath it, watching grey and red rivulets snake towards the drain.

Dirt.