When I get writer's block, I pull up a list of words and try and write stories for each of them. They're brief things, some as short as 200 words. I shared some last year under Do Tell. This is a more recent one; I feel bad about leaving so many wips unattended, so I hope this will make up for it (for now, obviously).

Cole's fall is hard, and he eyes his friends' faces the entire time, until the darkness swallows him whole.

There are many things about that day that Zane regrets. The decision to keep the Bounty steered to safety isn't one of them, but the decision to leave Cole behind is. It's a complicated mess of emotions that worsens when he looks at his friend, who sports a reminder of the ugly event and brings it wherever he goes.

Cole wobbles when he walks. It's subtle, only noticeable because Zane pays attention to these sorts of things. It starts in his leg and moves its way up his back, making him shake. If one didn't know what to look for, they wouldn't notice a thing.

But Zane does.

Zane doesn't regret keeping Kai from turning the ship around, but if he could go back and change anything leading up to those events, he'd listen when Cole shouted to wait up.

The traffic jam is a distant memory in their thoughts; mundanity usually is when followed by disaster. Zane is reminded of it every time he sees Cole wobble.

Zane and Pixal ran ahead of the traffic, which sat at a standstill, while Cole shouted for them to wait up. Zane didn't wait.

To this day, it's what he regrets the most, because he can't imagine how it must have felt later, when Cole fell. He eyed his friends' faces the entire time, watched them fly away, refusing to wait up. Refusing to turn around.

Zane wishes he'd listened during the traffic jam. He wishes he'd stopped, stood still while Cole shook the pins and needles from his foot, ran next to him until they joined Pixal again, until they met at the Bounty together. That way, when Cole fell and afterwards, he'd know for certain that he isn't the friend they'd leave behind, that he's just as important, that it pains and kills Zane to see Cole wobble.

But he didn't wait.

There's nothing Zane can do about it now.

He sits at the kitchen table, dipping cookies into a late-night glass of milk when Cole walks in.

"Hey," Cole greets as he opens the cabinets, "You're up late."

His leg is shaking, but he puts his weight on the opposite. Zane stares at it without meaning to, mournful.

"Couldn't sleep," he explains quietly, "Are you looking for the cookies?"

"I'm looking for anything, really," Cole smiles at him.

Despite everything, Cole is as friendly as ever. He didn't so much as criticize the team for leaving him behind, even hold it over their heads. Still, Zane can't help but feel that something has changed since then. It sits uncomfortably in his gut, like a rock or a brick that's shifted from its foundation.

"Here," says Zane. He's set out a plate of vanilla wafers and has been dipping them for the past hour.

Cole sits across from him with a sigh that's more relieved than it used to be. The wobble hurts him.

In silence, they sit, quietly chewing through the plate.

Then Cole says, "What's on your mind?"

Zane stares at his friend. Cole doesn't hold the event as a grudge, that much is clear. But Zane feels different.

"Nothing much. Just contemplating." I should've waited for you, he thinks.

"Stewing, huh?" Cole chuckles, "Don't think too hard; your face looks like it's about to crack."

He shifts in his chair and winces as the wobble strokes an unwilling nerve. The fall was months ago. Zane worries the wobble is permanent.

"I wouldn't mind being distracted," Zane says. He dips a cookie and nibbles on it, mindless in his task.

"You want to talk about it?" Cole asks, eyebrows raised.

Actually, Zane does. There's a lot he needs to say, apologies and the like, but Cole doesn't want to talk. Cole doesn't speak of the fall.

"That's the way the cookie crumbles," was all he ever said about it, when they'd asked him of his wellbeing. He spoke like it was an inevitable event.

Like he's doomed to be 'that friend,' the one they leave behind. Like he's accepted that fact.

Zane shakes his head. I should've waited for you. "It's alright."

Cole's eyes dart over his face, and he shrugs. "Suit yourself."

They're quiet, absorbed in their own thoughts, which run deep in still waters.

"I found a wicked night crawler in the shower earlier," Cole eventually breaks the silence, "Jay's got it in a jar if you want to see."

Zane's eyes are on the table. "No thank you."

A beat.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Zane nibbles on his cookie, trying to find his words. The rock shifts and turns in his gut. It isn't a painful feeling, but it reminds him of all that is wrong with the state of their existence. Not every mission is taken in stride. Rather, they've added up over the years, and Zane fears of crumbling under the weight of it all.

"Do you hate us?" he asks.

Cole leans back in surprise, and Zane draws his legs and tucks them beneath his chair. He'd meant to say something else.

"Hate you?" Cole frowns.

Zane puts the cookie into his milk, poking it until it's entirely submerged, then, gone. "For leaving you behind."

That makes it click. "Oh," Cole says, shifting again, "Of course not. You guys did what you had to do. I can't fault you for saving lives."

His arms have folded; he remains leaning back, away from the table, away from Zane.

Zane notices these sorts of things.

"You mean the world to us," says Zane, "You know that, don't you?"

Cole nods, a stiff action. "Sure."

It's easy to say these things. Zane says them all the time. Showing it is another matter, and that, Zane believes, is his biggest regret.

He didn't show it enough; now such neglect has caught up with him, strained a relationship he was so comfortable with. He took it for granted, really.

Cole is a constant presence in their lives, and perhaps Zane assumed he'd always be there, like stone.

He should've waited when Cole asked.

"Hey," Cole says. He places his hand forward, holding it inches from Zane's own, before drawing it back. "I don't hold anything against you."

Zane shakes his head. He is not the one in need of comfort, but Cole continues talking.

"What happened, happened. I could never hate you. Any of you."

But that isn't the problem here. The problem is the rock in Zane's gut. The problem is the reminder that he's failed as a friend.

"Are you okay?" Cole asks, and Zane realizes he's been quiet too long.

"I'm fine," Zane speaks, "I just—I want you to be okay."

Cole smiles again. "I am okay. I promise."

He's lying. The wobble is proof of that.

Zane swallows, throat thick, and he makes his own promise. He's going to wait for Cole; he's going to make sure that Cole knows he's the world and more, that he's Zane's friend, that he means something to them. Sitting there, Zane promises not to leave any of his friends behind again.

Thank you for reading! I hope you all have a wonderful day! Take care of yourselves this week!