Still Here

The air between them is stale, taut with tension. Monomi tries to gulp, but even her throat is too parched to do so. She bites the inside of her cheek, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

Blake is sitting across from her in a velvet armchair, donned in all black. There’s a distant look clouding his eyes, blanketing his face with deadbeat exhaustion.

They had just gotten back from Dad’s funeral. Now they’re alone, just the two of them in the house.

It‘s been a lot to digest so far. The silence isn’t easy either, especially since it’s not comfortable like their usual ones.

Monomi doesn’t know if she should just say it already. Lay it out now or wait later, they’re both drained from today’s events anyway. She knows it’ll be better to shut up, to save it for the long run.

However, the corner of her lips twitch, itching with discomfort. She’s wringing her fingers together out of anxious habit, tangling them together so hard that they’ve become a pale-knuckled knot.

There’s a tick in Blake’s jawline as he watches her, his gaze heavy with makeshift apathy. He’s waiting for her, anticipating something, anything.

Monomi wishes she weren’t so obvious. His eyes are studying her every move, cold and calculating.

He always knows.

“I think you need to stop,” she blurts out, the words finally spilling forth in soft-spoken fragments.

Blake crosses his arms, his stern stare unyielding. He’s quiet, waiting for her to elaborate.

And since she’s kept these thoughts close to her heart for years now, she does. She can’t really find it in herself to stop once she starts.

“Dad died,” Monomi sputters, trembling from the word vomit that’s about to tumble out from her. “And so will you if you think you’re going to go down the same road as him—“

“We’ve talked about this,” Blake cuts in curtly, “you have no say—“

“—and there you go again, trying to follow in his lead, his footsteps. It’s like— it’s like you can’t make your own goals for once—“

“He fought with everything that he had.” There’s a scowl darkening Blake’s face now, his fangs bared back with a click of his tongue. Every time Monomi catches a glimpse of them, she’s reminded of how much different he’s become. “He was a brave man, he was well respected, and if you think it’s wrong to admire that—“

“As much as we cared for him, you know he was also reckless.” Her blue eyes are stinging, practically burning with suppressed tears. “He rarely ever came home, we never spent enough time with him, and now we never will.”

Monomi had already cried enough earlier. It’s just broken tear ducts breaking through her at this point.

“He did the best he could, with us and his job.” Blake is glaring down at her because out of everyone, she should know better. In visible frustration, his hands are balled up by his side. “He was a damn good detective and you can’t fucking say otherwise. He did justice and managed to save a child in the case he was in, even if it meant his last time catching the culprit.”

“Justice is—“

“—was something he fought for til the very end and it’s about time you honored what he dedicated his life to—“

“And it’s stupid!”

Monomi’s voice rose in volume, escalating higher in pitch. There’s anger blazing in her eyes, adding fuel to the fire.

“Blake, you have to understand—“

There’s pain crossing his pale face, flickering in and out like a flash of lightening. “Don’t you fucking—“

“—but it felt like we never mattered, it was always about what the world wanted out of him—“

“He saved lives!” Blake snapped. “He didn’t just go out for a shitty reason, he always had something driving him! That’s better than what most people can even ask of, that’s better than whatever bullshit you’re always thinking!”

There’s an electric static buzzing around them, switching back and forth with every time they interrupt each other.

“Blake—“

“I don’t want to hear it—“

“—that’s enough—“

“Sometimes I wonder if you ever loved him at all.”

Monomi is taken aback, her whole world spinning with a sharp slap. “Blake, you can’t—“

“You don’t respect what he did, you never understood.” He’s rubbing salt in an open wound, no hesitation behind his claim. “The least you can do is believe in him—“

“He died without a chance to say goodbye!”

And there it is, a roar of thunder echoing around her. Monomi is struggling to piece herself back together, but her composure has already crumbled.

“So what if I’m mad?” Her shoulders are quaking, her expression filled to the brim with so much fury and— and then there’s hurt. The fire in her eyes dim, the embers fading out with a low simmer of smoke. “I don’t care if it’s wrong, I don’t care about being wrong, I’m just— I’m mad anyway.”

Blake is absolutely bewildered, his mouth struggling and failing to articulate.

“. . . Monomi—”

“I’m always going to be mad that he never focused on us as much as he did for his work.”

He’s drawing closer to where she’s seated now, kneeling down to her level. With a soft hush to his voice, he says, “You know he tried.”

There’s not much else she can say anymore. She knows that Blake might never see things her way exactly, but she at least wanted to try.

“As much as I loved Dad, I’m still mad that he was never around enough. The last time we had spoken to him, before he died, was three months ago.” Monomi’s head hangs low, locks of her pink hair dropping down past her collarbone. “I just don’t want you to leave without saying goodbye either.”

That last part comes out in a feeble murmur. She doesn’t even realize she had said anything until she sees Blake’s eyes blown wide.

He’s rigid now, his movements stilling to a halt.

And then, after a moment of hesitation, he simply pats a hand on her head, in a robotic attempt at a gesture of comfort, before eventually pulling her into a sudden embrace.

Monomi is startled, but she doesn’t pull away. After a beat of silence, she finds herself hugging back. It’s definitely awkward, especially since Blake almost never initiates these sort of things on his own, but nevertheless, she’s touched.

“I’m still here,” he says. “I’m always going to be here.”

“Yeah.” A smile peeks through her lips, a sliver of hope shining through. “I know.”