Zyan
Zyan was conflicted.
He was nervous to meet Jessica, to see her interact with Ava, and potentially let another person into his life and in on his secret. Ava spoke highly of her, so she had to be an incredible person, but that didn't necessarily mean Zyan and she would hit it off as well. Sometimes personalities simply clashed, and there was nothing to be done about it, but he knew Ava would be crushed if that were the case.
Yet, if they did hit it off and became friends, Zyan would have another person he'd love and lose one day. It wasn't healthy to go into a friendship with the picture of a funeral in his head, but when experience made the picture so clear, it was impossible to remain lighthearted. The number of times he'd casually met a friend of a friend, only to let them into his heart and bury them decades later, was too high to leave him unscathed. With caring came devastation: for him, there was no way around it.
But then again, Carter had always been different. He'd treasured his time with the mortals. His awareness of their eventual demise was no less than Zyan's, but he'd never let it stop him from enjoying his life. Where Zyan had been extremely cautious of getting involved with anyone, Carter had been the first to welcome new people into his life with open arms. Which had inevitably also meant he'd let them into Zyan's.
They'd gone through heartbreak after heartbreak together, had buried friends and people they'd considered family left and right, had seen children grow into adults and lose their parents, and yet, Carter hadn't lost his eagerness to mingle with mortals. That was until not too long ago, when the loss of someone dear to Carter had made him reconsider. It'd changed him, made him more like Zyan—careful and withdrawn. Unlike what Zyan would've assumed, it hadn't felt satisfying or relieving.
There'd been several instances throughout their lives where Zyan had pushed Carter to change, to adapt to Zyan's ideas of right and wrong, of what immortality should mean for them, and how they should live to make the most if it.
There'd been a time where Zyan had had enough of watching privileged people live their lives to the fullest at the expense of the rest of the world. All the death and suffering at the hands of capitalism and corrupt politicians—it had gotten to be too much. Zyan's frustration had overruled all reason. He'd gotten it into his head that it was his responsibility to fix all the world's problems, that it was his duty in exchange for the gift of immortality.
He'd dragged Carter around the globe, from ship to ship, to plane and train, all the while carelessly risking both their lives on multiple occasions. They'd entered countries tortured by war, famine, and disease, had gotten shot at in the streets, chased by bullets across borders, and followed by death threats as they'd broken in and out of government facilities. Sometimes, they'd used the guise of a stolen uniform and sometimes the veil of the night's shadows—all of it to save innocent lives. But the price they'd paid had been high.
*~*~*
"We can't save everyone, Zyan! You can't save everyone! And nobody expects you to!"
"I shouldn't even be here, Carter! I might as well do something to earn the extra time I've been given."
"You don't have to do anything! I made you immortal. I made that decision, not you."
"Then you should stop trying to change my mind and support me like I'm asking you to!"
"It's killing you, Zyan! And it's killing me!"
"That's a possible outcome I have learned to accept."
"But I haven't. We shouldn't have to risk our lives to earn the right to keep on living."
"And neither should any of the people that are out there sacrificing their lives for a bigger cause!"
"Zyan—"
"No! I'm sick of hearing you complain. If you don't want to support me any longer, then leave, but stop trying to change my mind!"
"I just don't want to lose you!"
"And I never asked to lose myself, but you didn't seem to care about that when you brought me back from the dead."
*~*~*
Ultimately, Zyan had been forced to realize it was no longer his place to interfere. It'd taken him years, and one scarring incident, to come to that conclusion. Carter had threatened to leave him time and time again throughout, but in the end, hadn't seemed capable of bearing the uncertainty of not knowing whether Zyan was alive or dead, so he'd stuck around.
Now Zyan sat on his living room carpet, surrounded by the contents of a box he stored in the back of his closet. It was the same one he'd dug out to prove his immortality to Ava. That day seemed strangely far away, and ever since then, he hadn't been able to get the box out of his head.
Now, in the light of all the memories, it seemed like the only thing that'd keep him from falling apart.
A stack of menus sat in front of him, all collected from around the world over a span of many decades. He'd gotten them laminated a few years ago to keep them from getting even more battered than they already were. It was a stupid and sentimental tradition he and Carter had started by accident, when they'd been out on a date in Finland, and Zyan had accidentally stolen the menu because he'd forgotten he was still holding it. Carter had pointed it out when they were already three streets over, and by then, Zyan was too embarrassed to return it, so he'd decided to keep it as a keepsake.
Ever since then, Carter had made a point of stealing a menu from every place they went to, no matter how Zyan had protested, and after a while, Zyan had surrendered and begun to take them instead. By now, there were hundreds, each with an attached memory. Some were only faint, maybe even subconsciously made up, but others clear and sharp. His fingers brushed over the letters of that very first menu. The nostalgia burned in his chest. Things had seemed so much easier then.
Now, even after all the divorces and heartbreak, Zyan couldn't imagine throwing out the box. And he knew he never would. It was the same certainty with which he knew Carter still had a hat, bracelet, or necklace from every single place they'd ever been.
Zyan looked over at his box. The only thing remaining inside was his half of their large collection of books, and beside it, his share of their postcards and photos. They'd divided everything after their first divorce but had given up on an organized system after the fourth. It was how Zyan had gotten to keep the menus while Carter had kept their box of wedding invitations. Why Zyan had a large jar of coins from around the globe, and Carter several folders full of old recipes.
Maybe they were just sentimental old men, incapable of fully letting go of days long gone.
He wasn't sure how long he said there, looking at his past laid out in front him, but by the time he next looked out the window, it was long past nightfall.
*~*~*
The following day found Zyan on Ava's couch, controller in hand. They'd loaded up a video game to distract Ava from her worries, but instead of calming her worries, it'd only transferred her nervous energy into rage-laced perseverance to finally finish Cuphead.
They were only on two levels in, and had died twenty-three times, when there was a knock on the door.
Ava threw it a fleeting glance. "You go get it," she ordered.
"It's your door! You get it!" Zyan argued.
"Just go and get it!"
"Fine!" He got up without taking his eyes off the screen, wireless controller still in hand, and even managed to continue playing while he pressed down the door handle with his elbow.
He threw Jessica a quick glance before he looked back at the screen and caught sight of fiery hair and a charming smile.
"Hello, you must be Jessica!" He shot her another glance. "Come join the party!"
"Uh, um, okay." She shuffled closer to come in and closed the door behind her. "And you're Zyan, right?"
"Yes. And sorry about all this. I was trying to distract Ava from her nervousness."
"Parry, Zyan!" Ava shouted.
"And get hit by that nut? I don't think so!" Zyan called back. "And your girlfriend's here, by the way!"
"Jessie! Hey! Aah! Shit! I just died!"
Zyan cocked an eyebrow.
"No wait! Fourth life! I'm alive! I'm ali—" She cut herself off as her character fell. "No, I just died for real. Parry, Zyan! Parry!"
Zyan was about to tease her for it but got interrupted when he failed to parry and died himself.
Ava took the opportunity of death to turn around and face Jessica, who was busy taking off her shoes next to Zyan. He saw her warm smile and heart-eyes, and suppressed a smile to let them have their moment.
While Ava got up to greet Jessica, Zyan returned to his spot on the couch to give them some privacy.
"Well, you're dressed overly nice for a casual hang-out," Ava commented in a flirty voice.
Zyan rolled his eyes to himself. He'd have assumed her to have more originality than that.
The comment was followed by a mumbled reply from Jessica and low kissing noises that made him itch to get back home, where he didn't feel like an intruder.
"Keep it PG back there!" Zyan called over his shoulder.
The lip-smacking audibly stopped. He perked up and threw a quick glance over his shoulder, where Ava and Jessica stood, foreheads pressed together, and whispering too low for Zyan to make out. A smile tugged at his lips as he turned back around.
There was the sound of another peck after a few seconds, followed by Ava's return to her previous spot next to him.
"Strap in, Jessie, 'cause this might take a while!" Ava announced.
"Did you already beat the dragon?" Jessica asked as she dropped down beside Ava.
"We didn't even beat the carrot."
"Losers."
"Rude," Zyan grumbled.