My shoulders shrugged, I think, but my body had gone numb. I focused on the carpet now; on every thread and deep blue fiber. The diffuser on the table next to me whirred and made the room smell like oranges. Minnie told me that citrus could encourage calm and clarity. I’d even switched my shampoo to one that was lemon scented, in an effort to put my best foot forward, or whatever. Today, the smell only reminded me that I hadn’t eaten yet.
“More than usual. It’s the only time that I get to see him,” I whispered as I blinked back the tears.
“Everyone copes differently with loss, but your ability makes moving on more difficult. You can’t acknowledge his death if you’re keeping him alive in your head, Alex. We’ve talked about this.”
“I know.”
“You’re allowed to go at your own pace; these things take time. But try to acknowledge it in the daydreams, when you’re speaking to him. Acknowledge your grief, and voice it out loud. Don’t just create a scenario where he’s alive again—try to reframe it as a goodbye. Make it about closure, not about holding on.” Her voice was soft, that tone she always used when she wanted to make a point but didn’t want to be an asshole. “We tried last June, but you’ve had another year to process. I think it would be beneficial to try again.”
I knew I was prolonging it—the goodbye. Joon was gone, and I couldn’t remember the last words we said to each other. I’d spent two weeks overseas on a mission before I got the call that my best friend had died in a building collapse. It was the day before I was scheduled to return. A jet flew me out that night, and I came home to… nothing. They didn’t even have hisbody for me to cry over. A cold, empty box was lowered into the ground for show.
It had been three years since then.
Like I said, Minnie was good. I wasn’t able to return to Hero work yet, didn’t even think I wanted to. But the VIA allowed me to pick up contracts with the police departments and hospitals during my leave, and I was managing. Surviving.
But June always knocked me out like a heavy hitter in a boxing ring. It reminded me that there was never closure, and that I was alone. I pretended for the rest of the year that I had my shit together—it only half worked.
“We’ll see how it goes today,” Minnie said. “Let’s call it a practice session. It will get harder before it gets better.”
She never saideasier,because she knew it wasn’t easy. Minnie chose her words carefully, and I’d caught on over the years; better meant sleeping through the night, better meant being able to show up to work, better meant getting through a TV show without his face popping into my head. Ithadgotten better; but it never got easier.
I took a deep breath. “Okay.”
It didn’t take long to slip in. I’d been daydreaming since I was a child; I loved it back then. The way the small, horn-like attachments on my head sent blue sparks around my face always reminded me of magic. I could create anything in my head, as long as I’d seen it before. If there was inspiration, there was always a story to be told in my mind. A vivid, realistic replica that made swimming at the beach possible in December, and turned sloppy joes into chocolate cake. It was simple then.
But when my eyes closed, when the room shifted and the velvet couch beneath me turned into a lumpy mattress, there was only despair. A small TV on the floor crackled as the screen buzzed with white and black, and a sticky controller appearedon my lap. Two empty pizza boxes sat open beside me, and a grumbling figure fiddled with wires on the floor.
His mop of black hair touched the base of his neck, the same length that he had in high school. Joon had gone for a shorter cut once he entered the academy, but this was the image I knew best, the one that never lost detail. A gray t-shirt hung off his body; he’d just begun to train for his entrance exams, and he hadn’t packed on the muscle yet to fill anything out.
Long, nimble fingers worked and fidgeted as I watched him. Friday nights were for pizza and gaming; I would complain about schoolwork, and Joon would tell me that it didn’t matter. Because one day, we’d be Heroes. Wedidbecome Heroes—but that was all wasted now.
“Joon,” his name hovered on my lips, weaker than intended.
He turned, and my heart ached, as it always did. His face never changed over the years; Joon was someone who never seemed to age, one of the lucky ones. Dark eyes glimmered with mischief, like a fox. Full lips that always pulled into a smile, and straight, dark brows that were always meticulously groomed. Joon had been the conscious one; he cared about his appearance, took care of himself.
I hadn’t been able to do that for years.
“You still can’t fix that damn TV?” A nervous smile spread across my cheeks. “It’s time to buy a new one. We’ll have to save up, get one of those fancy ones they have now.”
Joon opened his mouth to respond, but Minnie’s voice cut in. “I’m sure that TV has been gone for a long time, Alex.”
My heart dropped as I jolted.
She sat in the corner of his small bedroom, nestled in a large, plush reading chair that was too big for the space. Joon insisted that it was the best thing he’d ever bought, but we always had to shove it aside to even get through the door. I’d forgotten that I’d pulled her in with me. Minnie would likely be slumped over inher office, across from my own limp body, while my daydream played out in our heads.
If we ran over time, her assistant would knock twice before coming in with the smelling salts. Minnie had been in my daydreams before; if the session got difficult, I’d bring us to a beach, or a cabin in the woods, and we’d resume right where we left off. That was the thing about Variant abilities, though; they always had side effects. Mine meant I wasn’t able to wake up without something on the outside doing it for me. Minnie could sense lies, but that meant she couldn’t tell them, either.
Joon was stronger, though. His ability could do so much; it was adaptable—the Variant Intelligence Agency gave him the codename ‘Hopper’, and it fit him perfectly. He could jump straight up onto the rooftop of a skyscraper, or get to the scene of a Villain attack within seconds. He was fast, powerful, and nothing could stop him aside from a few broken bones when the energy in his legs crushed them. Variant technology gave him braces that could funnel the impact, and there were plenty of Heroes and agents with healing abilities to help any complex damage.
He was the one who was meant to be a Hero, not me—he was the fighter. Joon kept watching with those dark eyes, waiting for me.
“Go on, Alex,” Minnie urged softly. “Try again.”
“Do you…” I swallowed, and his gaze refused to waver.
Pressure filled my head, and something roared in my ears as my pulse picked up. I didn’t want to say it out loud, didn't want to break the news even though it was my own mind that I was communicating with. Finally, I took a deep breath, and my chest cracked.
“You know that you’re dead, right?”
