Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 62: Back Home

Chapter 62: Back Home

Apollo lay unconscious on the hospital bed, his face pale but peaceful. His father sat nearby, his worry evident in every furrow of his brow, every restless shift of his posture. Beside him, Amari sat rigid, exhaustion etched into his features, but his gaze never strayed from Apollo.

Apollo’s dad glanced over at Amari, his voice soft but firm. "Amari, you should get some rest. You look like you’re about to collapse."

Amari shook his head quickly, his tone sharper than he intended. "No. I’m fine." His eyes didn’t budge from Apollo, the quiet determination keeping him rooted in place.

Apollo’s dad sighed, recognizing the stubbornness but choosing not to fight it. He didn’t have the energy for a back-and-forth. The room was steeped in silence until the door burst open, and Apollo’s family rushed in, frantic and loud.

Apollo’s mother shoved past Amari without noticing him, her urgency overpowering any sense of awareness. She leaned over her son, clutching his limp body as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"My boy! My boy!" she sobbed, hugging him as if she could shield him from whatever pain had left him in this state.

Apollo’s father stepped forward, his voice calm but carrying a weight of reassurance. "He’s just asleep," he said. "The whole ordeal clearly drained him. He’ll wake up soon, I promise."

Her sobs only grew louder. "Oh, my Apollo," she whispered through trembling lips. "What were you thinking? Why would you do something so dangerous?"

Amari’s voice cut through the room, low but steady. "We were... trying to save Nana."

Apollo’s mom spun toward him, her tear-streaked face etched with frustration. "Why didn’t you come to us? Why didn’t you ask the adults for help—like any normal kids would?"

Amari lowered his gaze, guilt weighing on him like lead. "We wanted to," he admitted quietly, "but we thought it might be too late."

Her shoulders shook as the tears intensified. It was too much for Amari to bear. Without another word, he slipped out of the room, leaving the family to their grief. He wandered into the hallway, slumping into a chair as his thoughts spiraled into blame. The possibility of losing both Nana and Apollo haunted him, the weight of their lives pressing heavily on his chest.

A few minutes later, Apollo’s father stepped out and quietly sat beside him. He didn’t speak immediately, just stared ahead as though searching the walls for answers he didn’t have.

"Hey, kid," he said finally, his tone low and even. "Thank you."

Amari frowned, blinking at him in confusion. "Thank me? For what? I didn’t do anything." His voice cracked as tears threatened to spill.

Apollo’s dad shook his head. "You tried to save Nana—someone who mattered deeply to all of us. Believe me, if I were your age, I’d have done the same thing."

Amari’s hands curled into fists, tears now streaming freely down his face. "She didn’t deserve this," he choked out. "Nana was the kindest person I’ve ever known. She didn’t deserve to die because of me." His voice grew louder, shaking with emotion. "Why did they take her? If they wanted someone, why didn’t they just take me instead?"

Apollo’s dad leaned forward, his expression filled with sympathy. "Amari—"

"No!" Amari interrupted, wiping his face roughly. "I don’t want to be cared for anymore. Everyone I love either gets hurt or dies. I’ll deal with everything on my own from now on."

Apollo’s dad reached out, his voice steady but firm. "Listen, being alone doesn’t fix anything. It just makes you more vulnerable."

"Good," Amari shot back, standing abruptly. "If I’m alone, no one else gets hurt because of me."

Apollo’s dad tried to call after him, but the words failed to form. He watched helplessly as Amari walked out, leaving the hospital without looking back. Alone in the hallway, Apollo’s dad closed his eyes and clenched his fists, whispering under his breath, "Stay strong."

"Dad?" Chloe’s soft voice startled him from behind.

He turned to see her standing hesitantly by the door, her wide eyes brimming with tears.

"Chloe... is everything okay?" he asked, forcing a gentle tone.

"No," she said, her voice trembling. "Nothing’s okay."

Apollo’s dad stepped toward her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. She collapsed into his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt.

"Why?" she cried. "Why does this keep happening to us?"

He didn’t have an answer. He held her tightly, smoothing her hair as he whispered, "I don’t know, sweetheart. But I’m here for you. Always."

They stayed like that in the middle of the hallway, her grief pouring out into his steady embrace.

Meanwhile, Amari wandered aimlessly through the town, his feet dragging across the pavement. He was blind to the people around him, his mind consumed by despair. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into a man that his daze was interrupted.

"Watch it, kid," the man snapped, shoving him aside with little effort.

Amari stumbled and landed hard on the ground, but he didn’t bother getting up. He stayed there, staring at the dirt, feeling the heaviness of the world pressing down on him.

"Can you believe the nerve of that kid?" the man muttered as he walked off.

Passersby glanced at Amari, their expressions ranging from pity to disgust. A few threw coins in his direction out of sympathy, but he didn’t acknowledge any of them. His mind was elsewhere, replaying every moment of loss and failure.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he looked up. Across the street stood a building—one he recognized. Memories of the Ocean brothers flickered through his mind, and with a shaky breath, he dragged himself toward it.

Reaching the rooftop, Amari found it exactly as he remembered. The quiet space brought no comfort, only the weight of memories. Sitting at the edge, his thoughts turned to Nana—her smile, her worried voice, the way she had always cared for him. Tears welled up again as her image filled his mind.

"Why?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Why her?"

The silence was overwhelming, almost suffocating. He stared at the stars, their cold light offering no solace.

"Nana," he murmured, his voice trembling. "I’m scared."

A voice called from behind him. "Amari?"

Quickly wiping his face, he turned to see Shylo standing there.

Amari turned toward Shylo, wiping the remnants of tears from his face. He stood slowly, squaring his shoulders despite the weight of his grief.

Shylo tilted his head, studying Amari closely. "Were you crying?"

Amari huffed lightly, his voice sharp. "I was. And what about it?"

Shylo raised his hands slightly, a small gesture of surrender. "Nothing, man... just asking." His tone softened after a pause. "So, where’ve you been? You kind of disappeared on everyone."

"I had things to deal with," Amari said flatly, avoiding eye contact.

Before the conversation could continue, Maverick’s voice carried from across the rooftop. "Shylo! Che?! Damn, man, where’ve you been hiding? You’ve been ghosting the crew."

Amari’s expression darkened, but he didn’t respond.

Maverick stepped closer, his energy casual but tinged with curiosity. "What’s going on with you, huh? You look like you’ve been through it. Heard about your grandmother getting taken... That’s rough, man."

Amari’s eyes snapped to Maverick, his silence heavy and pointed. The weight of his stare made Maverick shift uncomfortably, but before anyone could say another word, the rest of the group arrived.

"Look who finally made it back," Milo grinned, throwing his arm over Amari’s shoulder. "The pillar of the crew! Man, we thought you were dead or something."

Amari stiffened, roughly shrugging Milo’s arm off. "I’m not in the mood for celebrations," he said coldly. "I came here to look at the stars. That’s it."

"Stars? Really? What’s up with you, man?" Milo asked, frowning slightly. "You’re acting weird."

Amari’s jaw tightened. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed toward the exit.

Milo called after him, his voice tinged with frustration. "Come on, Che! Don’t be like this!"

But Amari didn’t look back.

He found his way back to his old home, the familiar comfort of the treehouse calling to him like an anchor. Once inside, he moved slowly, adjusting the worn blankets and brushing off the bugs that clung to them. He didn’t care about the smell or the discomfort—he just needed to sleep, to escape for a while.

He lay down, his body heavy with exhaustion, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind conjured images of happier times—of smiling faces and laughter. And then, just as quickly, those smiles turned to frowns, filled with anger, sadness, and regret. The nightmares followed, dragging him deeper into a spiraling abyss.

He woke with a start, his breath uneven as he stared at the ceiling. The memories, the dreams—they wouldn’t leave him alone. He pressed his hands to his face, forcing himself to stop the tears that threatened to fall again.