We’ve existed side by side for as long as I can remember. But tomorrow morning, I leave for university in Toronto.
And I have no idea how to do this without him either.
“I know the ending,” I say.
His eyes flick to me, and I tip my head towards the bin.
Silas lets out a quiet huff. “And what’s that?”
I walk to the bin and lift the lid, pulling out the worn notebook that holds our comic. Years of ink and imagination live inside these pages, and it’s something that grew with us until it became a full story. We’ve worked on it less over the last few years as we got older, but we never let it go. Redwave took everything we poured into him, from hurt, fear, and anger to joy and excitement, and carried it for us whenever we needed somewhere safe to put it. We leaned on him when we needed him, and even though we haven’t given him as much time lately, he’s still here. He’s always been exactly what we needed.
I flip to the last page. Redwave fills the frame, stripped of his strength as he kneels on one knee amid the wreckage left behind by the villain who took it from him. His head hangs low, and his shoulders are slumped beneath the weight of what was stolen, as a storm brews around him. The sky is dark and angry, threatening to pour down on him and unleash a new kind of fury that he doesn’t have the power to fight.
Silas drew loss into every line. The loss we both already feel so deeply.
“He gets up,” I say, looking at Redwave. “Because he chooses to. The villain may have taken his power, but he didn’t take his heart.” I let my eyes roam over the beautiful colours on the page. Strong, dark lines, with stormy shadows… and thin veils of light underneath them all. Soft blues and golds are buried under the ruin, and I wonder if Silas realized he was doing that.
“Redwave can’t stay down,” I continue. “Even when it hurts, he stands and pushes forward. He keeps going because he knows it’s what he needs to do, and he fights, even without his power, to end the destruction and pain. He gains his power back by refusing to break, and bytakingit back, piece by piece, in whatever way he can. And in doing so… he becomes even stronger. He walks right into the fire and comes out stronger than ever.”
I look back over the last few drawings he’s done and smile. They’re incredible. Every line has a purpose, and the detail makes these pages look like real photographs. Over the past couple of years, he’s filled more pages with water, fields, and skies, perfectly capturing the beauty of our home here on the island. And each drawing, I swear, is better than the last. Watching him grow with this skill has felt inevitable because I had a front-row seat to his patience and curiosity. He spent hours figuring things out on his own as he taught himself the thingshewanted to learn and excel in.
Which is why he’s thriving in his work on the farm. It’s only been one summer since we graduated, and already he’s become the one they rely on when equipment stalls or something refuses to cooperate. He understands how things fit and work together, and he finds satisfaction in making something work again when it breaks.
And right now, standing here with his drawings spread open between us, I can see it. Even if it hurts.
He’ll be ok.
We’ll both be ok.
I hope.
Because there’s another truth sitting heavy in my chest. I’m anxious as fuck to move to another province, to a massive city and a huge campus full of strangers, without my best friend beside me.
I glance up at Silas, and he’s looking at the comic with that distant look he gets. The one that says he’s here, but not really here.
I lift my fist and gently nudge his shoulder. His eyes refocus and find mine, and I smile.
“You and me, Si.”
The corner of his lips lifts slightly, and he gives one small nod. “You and me, Vi.” But his smile fades as he exhales and his gaze shifts back to the water, now reflecting the deep violet and indigo of the sky. “Do we have to go?”
My own smile grows wider as I close the notebook, and I nudge him again. “You know you want to. Bell will be there.”
He rolls his eyes, and I chuckle.
He fights it, but we all know there’s something brewing between them. He’s just apparently the last one to realize it.
“Let’s go,” I say as I place the book back in the bin and close it.
He gives another dramatic eye roll, and I laugh, shoving him toward the stairs. We head down to the beach, and when my feet hit the sand, I take a moment to look up at the lighthouse. The white and red wood boards stand bright against the darkening sky, and the comforting sight keeps me rooted to the spot for an extra moment. This is a place where we always feel safe and protected and can escape from anything. It’s where I can alwaysfind Silas when the world asks too much of him, and where I come when I need silence and space. It’s a place where we can be exactly who we want to be, at any moment… drawing, writing, dreaming, and just being together without pressure from anything or anyone else. We can just live in our world, and it’s all ours.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper.
Then I turn and follow Silas across the beach to our bikes.
We pedal under the soft light lingering in the sky, the last of it hanging on as long as it can until night completely takes over. A beam of light cuts across us as we pull into Silas’s driveway, and a tractor rumbles to a stop before us as it exits a field.
Scott opens the cab door and looks down at us with a smile. “Want a ride?”
