Stories from Naoh’ra Rabntah

The Aftermath

The door opened, followed by the sound of keys hitting the dish.

Matt walked into view and headed straight for the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, but just stood there with it.

“Does Lucy know you’re here?” Ben asked.

After a long moment, he twisted the cap off. “No.”

“You want her to?”

There was no answer, but Matt’s silence wasn’t indecisive. It was avoidance. Ben knew the difference.

“Alright then.”

He crossed into the kitchen, picked up the phone and dialed. Matt didn’t stop him.

“Hello?” Lucy said at once.

“Hey, this is Ben. Just wanted to let you know, Matt’s crashing here tonight.”

“Thank god. Is he—”

“He’s okay. Just tired. I’ll have him call you in the morning, alright?”

“Sure. Thanks, Ben.”

He hung up. Matt’s shoulders had pulled in, and his beer was already halfway gone.

Ben reached into the cabinet above the fridge, and took out the bottle of scotch neither of them admitted they liked. He poured two short glasses, slid one across the counter toward Matt, then drew his own.

They drank without a word.

Matt went through his first glass, then another, and kept pouring. Eventually he wandered to the couch, settling in sideways with his legs stretched out.

Ben dropped into the opposite end and sat with him.

Minutes passed. Maybe more. Nothing changed until Matt murmured, low enough that Ben almost missed it.

“I should’ve called her.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Matt didn’t speak again. He lay there staring at the ceiling after that, and his breathing fell into an even pace.

When he finally drifted off, Ben laid a throw blanket over him and tucked it around his shoulders.

He stayed there beside him in the dark.

The apartment was still when Ben woke. Matt was sprawled on the couch, a blanket bunched around his knees, one arm under his head. Out cold.

Ben rose, shook off the stiffness, and checked the clock.

Not yet six.

He glanced back over.

Matt was there, completely unaware of how easily he filled the space, as if he belonged. Because he did. Had been, for years.

That was the problem.

He meant to call Matt’s girlfriend right away, but part of him didn’t want to. Maybe he just wanted a little more time like this, with the version of Matt only he ever got to see.

It hurt in a way he didn’t have words for.

The line picked up.

“Matt?”

“It’s Ben. He’s still out. He’s not gonna be up for a while.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah. Just hungover, dead asleep.”

The next part came hard. But he needed to say it. He owed her that.

“I was thinking of getting breakfast.” He named a nearby diner. “You want to join me?”

“I can be there in thirty,” she said.

He ended the call, looked at Matt one more time.

His best friend. His person.

Lucy stepped into the diner and spotted Ben in a booth near the back. He noticed her and gave a quick wave.

“Didn’t think you’d want to waste time ordering. Hope you take it black.”

“Close enough,” she said, tearing open a sugar packet. “Honestly, I always assumed you slept through half your mornings.”

“I wish. Grew up on a farm. Everything starts yelling at sunrise. Sleeping in still feels illegal.”

“That actually explains a lot.”

They drank their coffee as the small talk faded.

“It was all over the news last night,” she said, not quite meeting his eyes. That daycare was ten minutes from her school. “Awful to watch, but I couldn’t turn it off. I told myself I wouldn’t spot him, but I did. And when I didn’t hear from him at all, not even a check-in… I couldn’t sleep.”

“Figured as much.”

Their exchange cut off as a waiter set a plate of muffins between them.

“So these are the muffins he won’t shut up about, huh.”

“They’re decent, but he makes it sound like a religious experience.”

“Typical,” she remarked. “Last week he told my sister he’s never had a better grilled cheese than the one from the station vending machine.”

“You mean the one that tastes like melted cardboard and regret.”

“He was serious.”

“Oh, I know. Guy can actually cook, but that’s the bar he sets.”

“Please don’t tell me he buys those on purpose.”

“He calls it ‘dependable.’ Like that makes it better.”

The laughter died on its own, and Lucy’s hand closed around her mug.

“…Is it always like this? For him? For you?”

“You get used to it,” he said, finally. “Most of the time, it rolls off after a while. But then there are calls like this.”

She looked at him properly now. Ben was out there too.

“Are you okay?”

“…Yeah. I’m fine.”

Lucy didn’t press him.

“And Matt?”

“He’s not okay,” he said. “Calls like that... he bottles it up because he has to. He’s the one giving orders, keeping everyone focused. But once it’s over? That’s when it catches up. And the losses always hit harder than the wins.”

“I wish he would’ve come home.”

“He couldn’t.”

The muffins sat untouched, still giving off a little heat.

“What can I do?”

“Just be there. Let him come back in pieces if that’s how it has to happen. He doesn’t need you to fix it. He only needs to know you’ll still be there when it breaks again.”

“That’s the part I didn’t understand when I signed up for this. That sometimes loving him means watching him come back wrong.”

Lucy stared down at her coffee.

“Sometimes I wonder if there’s this whole other version of him I’ll never get to know.”

“There is. But it’s not because he’s hiding it from you. It’s just... hard to translate.”

“I know I’m still learning how to be part of his world. But I don’t want to push out the people already in it.”

Ben seemed surprised.

“You’ve always had his back,” she said.

“And you’re the one he goes home to.”

“But when it gets bad… he goes to you.”

“Yeah, well.” He almost smiled. “I’m kinda good at putting out fires.”

She laughed, picked up a muffin and took a bite.

“…Okay. I get it now.”

Ben chuckled and snagged one for himself.

Matt woke to familiar voices.

Nothing that sounded urgent. No one pretending to be quiet.

He blinked against the morning light and groaned. His head made its own objections as he tried to sit up. His back, meanwhile, had filed an official complaint with the couch.

“I swear to god, he used to spend recess reading chess books thicker than his arm.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish. He wouldn’t even go outside with the rest of us. Just sat in the corner of the library like a tiny old man with a mission.”

“That’s worse than I imagined.”

Matt let out a miserable noise. “Do you mind?”

Lucy didn’t even look sorry as she held up a paper bag.

“We brought muffins.”

“And context. For your tragic origin story.”

“Is this payback for something I haven’t done yet?”

“Preemptive balance,” she said sweetly.

“Also,” Ben added, “I’m deeply enjoying this vision of you as a tiny, book-hoarding menace.”

“I was well-read,” he grumbled, reaching for the bag.

Lucy sat beside him and leaned into his side. “You were adorable. Oversized backpack, always helping the librarian shelve books, like it was a sacred duty.”

“You volunteered in the library?”

Matt chewed. Slowly. And made sure Ben saw every second of it.

“No, it’s fine. I just need a minute to square that with the guy who once hit me with an axe.”

“Should I be worried?”

“It was with the flat side,” he said through a mouthful of muffin.

“Tell that to the raccoon.”

Ben handed him a coffee, grinning. Lucy nudged his knee with hers.

Neither of them said anything about last night.

Matt didn’t either.

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