Echo of the Past

08. Marcin

Translator: Schiotka
Editor: Pasadera, JacquelineMonaie
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She stood on threshold of his doorway. She didn't take a step, didn't go inside.

And not because it stank of cigarettes.

But because it was his space.

A space in which there was room for one more person.

And it wasn't her.

She knew it the moment she saw his face so close to the other's. When she caught them lying together, looking into each other's eyes.

Maybe she even saw a glimmer of what used to be between them?

She left... leaving them together, smiling to herself.

She didn't want to ruin the picture.

All the pieces suddenly fell into place. It was so obvious. And she was almost certain that the following day everything would be different. Simply warmer.

But she should have known that things don't always go as she would like.

On the surface life went on as usual. But when she passed them, instead of warmth, she felt a cold draught on the back of her neck and unspoken words hanging in the air.

She watched with sadness as Marcin's head, initially held high, drooped with each passing day.

As his feelings were slowly smothered by mold.

Rotting from the inside.

He lost control of his emotions.

She ached for them.

Because she loved them both. Like brothers. A younger one and an older one.

She couldn't imagine her "now" without their bickering, without their teasing, without their caring for each other and for her. All that in between seemingly angry words.

She regretted that they'd fought yesterday.

Although it didn't really surprise her. As though she'd been waiting for the moment when Marcin would collapse. Waiting for it all to pour over the edge, flooding, taking him down and shattering him in the process.

He shouted.

He just walked around the kitchen and shouted. Something about university, about Nivan picking on him, about what was between them. Incoherent. Chaotic, disjointed sentences.

He shouted.

And Nivan sat at the table, leaning against the wall, and followed him with his eyes. He was silent.

He just stared at him and absorbed all his words with a strange calmness.

As if he wasn't participating, as if it wasn't his argument. As if Marcin was fighting with himself.

He noticed her, sliding his gaze from the shaking figure towards hers, standing in the darkness of the hallway. She wanted to ask him – don't you see it? Why aren't you doing anything about it? After all, it's obvious that Marcin...

But before she could say anything, Nivan shook his head, almost imperceptibly, as if telling her not to say a word.

Her eyes flew wide.

She didn't understand anymore.

She walked away slowly, letting Marcin continue to argue with himself.

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They heard the lock turn.

Firyal jumped at the sound.