The City of Ionia

“Tim!”

After about a few minutes of running in circles, Tim finally heard a response. His name echoed through the trees. He stopped, resting his hands on his knees. His breathing was uneven, like the stars in the sky.

“Tha… That bastard finally… said something. I swear… I swear I will beat him until he gets an entirely new personality!”

He heard his name once more. Tim let out an aggravated yell and sprinted towards his name.

A speck of orange light was ahead. Tim assured himself that it was the lantern and ran as if he was getting chased by bandits.

“There you are, you dimwit,” Tim exclaimed when he reached Roger, “You left me alone in the dark! What typa of cruel prank is that? I swear, I’m gonna give you the mightiest punch you’ve ever taken! He stretched out his arm, getting ready to beat Roger until he was blue.

Roger, who was crouched, turned his head. His face looked desperate as if he was pleading for help. It was then that Tim noticed something on the ground.

It was a body.

It wasn’t any type of body. It was a bruised, beaten body that was almost a copy of Tim (minus the beaten part). The body lay on its side, its head resting on its arm, which was covered in dark purple and blue bruises and semi-fresh cuts.

No cut looked severe enough to be concerned about, and no amount of blood dripped down its opening. They were all surface-level. His once-white shirt turned brown due to a coating of grime. The black pants were ripped, exposing the body’s skinny calves. A little circular thing wrapped around the body’s wrist, taking the shape of an empty watch. He didn’t look a day over twenty, but his entire body was nothing more than a beaten doll left aside for someone else to deal with.

“Hey Roger, what the hell did you do to this man? Are you that angry that you’ve been jump-scared by some bunch of squirrels and now taking it out on some random person? Are you that much of a sicko?”

Steam emitted from Roger’s head. “Zip it, pipsqueak! I’m seriously debating whether or not to beat you up along with this man. So shut it!”

“S–S–So you did beat him up! You just admitted it! You truly are a brute!” Tim yelled with his shaky finger pointed at Roger.

“N–No! I didn’t! It came out wrong. I swear!” Roger, a bit troubled, rapidly waved his hands with innocence. “I-I tripped over the body while I was looking at the moon. Obviously, I wouldn't purposely hurt someone like this.”

“You can’t even see the moon! The branches are blocking the sky!”

“No…! There's this one spot where the moon shone. No branches or leaves blocked it. It was pure moonlight. When I was admiring its beauty…BOOM! I tripped on this hunk of flesh right here.”

Tim took a few steps back, disgustingly staring at Roger. “Hunk of flesh?! Did you really just call another human a ‘hunk of flesh?’ That’s exactly something a fat brute would say!”

Roger got onto his feet, trying to calmly explain the situation, “I–I–I used it metaphorically. No more, nothing less. It’s not like I would actually mean—wait a minute, did you call me fat? It's bulky muscle, not fat! There's a--h–hey, what are you doing? Quit shaking my arm!”

Tim pointed out the tiny movement the body made. His hand slowly opened and closed, almost like he was gently grabbing something.

“Tim, watch the body for a sec. I’m going to grab some firewood.” His figure slowly blended into the darkness.

Tim observed the beaten man while Roger took a mini trip. His blonde hair reminded him of someone he once knew. He squatted by the lower half of the body. The man's shoes were ripped, particularly by the sole, and the laces were messy. His once long, white socks were dirt-brown but weren't ripped. How strange. Socks were the most frequent piece of clothing to rip. Tim tossed four pairs of socks in the trash just last week because they ripped.

Minutes later, Roger came back with a handful of firewood. He placed the wood in a cross-hatch pattern, making a small tower. He then threw in a few twigs and dried leaves within the tower. It was a safe place to set a fire. He lit the wood with the new item they stole, witnessing its birth.

Roger sat extremely close to the weak yet rising fire with his hands above it. The body sat against the nearest tree trunk to the burning wood. Tim sat across Roger, a few feet to the right of the leaning body.

After some time had passed, the previously unconscious man began coughing. Tim and Roger quickly turned their heads toward the coughs like scared animals.

He rubbed his eyes with a yawn as if he had just gotten the best sleep of his life. “A…fire…” he mumbled. The two travelers didn’t catch what he said.

“Um, a-are you ok?” Roger asked with his hands over the fire.

The man scooted closer to the dwindling warmth, hugging his limbs while glancing at the two travelers. He looked over at Tim a few times and unnoticeably shook his head, looking preoccupied.

“It’s… pretty chilly out”, he softly said.

Tim bluntly asked, “Hey man, do you know what happened to you?”

Roger's palm met his forehead. “Is that really what you ask someone who just woke up? Look at him. His beaten blue. I mean, c’mon, give him a break.”

Tim didn't think his remark was any better.

“N-No, it’s totally fine. Curiosity is good in some ways. But it could also lead to…” His voice dimmed like a dying candle. “Anyways,” He said while scratching the back of his head, “His question wasn’t a big deal, so I don’t mind answering.”

He intensely gazed into space, his face again lost in a hurricane of thoughts. Like a lonely person sitting in the park, wondering when and why their life was steered in the wrong direction. His empty eyes locked straight ahead, with his vision shut off.

He wore that same lonesome face. Those same empty eyes looked straight into the fire. His pupils reflected the flames, filling in his vision.

He was living in another world.

Tim gently shook the man’s shoulder, causing his soul to pop out. “I–I–I’m so sorry! I–I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s my fault. I was mused into something inconvenient. You said you wanted to know why I’m in this atrocious state, right?”

“Before we do that,” Roger said, “I feel like speaking to someone without knowing their name is rude. We haven’t yet introduced ourselves, but I’ll go first. My name’s Roger. And the person sitting oddly close to you is Tim.”

“Well, I guess it’s my turn.” Once again, the man looked at Tim, almost forcing himself to smile, “I’m Avery. It’s been a while, Tim.” His voice was softer than sleet.

Tim’s eyes were wide enough for a colony of ants to cross. “Take off your shirt,” he demanded.

“Woah, woah! Who the hell asks someone you just met to strip? And you call me the insane one!” Roger exclaimed with his hands waving all over the place.

“I have to check something on his back! If it’s there, I will be the happiest sixteen-year-old on the planet!”

“What the hell are you talking about? Have you gone mad?”

Avery giggled while his fist covered his mouth. “Don’t worry… Roger…? It’s not a bother.”

Roger raised both his hands up in defeat.

Avery grunted in anguish as he took off his shirt. He tossed it to the side, allowing Tim to examine his back.

His back wasn’t as rough as Tim expected. With all his injuries on his limbs, his back looked almost untouched. He didn’t think much of it since he was only looking for one thing.

He strained his eyes, trying to focus on Avery’s back. “Ahhh, it’s too dark. I can’t see a thing.”

“Hold on a second.” Avery removed the device on his wrist and pressed a few buttons until a bright, white light emitted. He then handed it to Tim, whose mouth was partially open.

Both Roger and Tim were amazed by this device. They’ve never seen anything like it or even remotely close to it.

“This thing is so cool! What the hell is it? I’ve never seen anything like it. Hey Roger, stop that!”

“Let me see it! Please let me see it! I beg you!”

Roger carefully tried to snatch the device out of Tim’s hand. He could quickly grab it if he wanted to, but the thought of it breaking would damage Roger’s heart.

Roger, who had complete control over his arms, glued them close to his side. “That has to be a limited Ionian item! There’s no way it’s not. Avery Avery, where did you get this? Where can I find one?” His eyes sparkled as if he had found a pot of gold.

Tim focused on his back as Avery tried to change the subject with Roger. With the light, he could see clearly as day. He saw a large, curvy scar running down the middle of his back like a random river in the middle of the woods. In disbelief, he gasped, unintentionally dropping the device.

“Don’t drop it; you might...” Roger looked at Tim and knew something was up. “Tim, are you okay?”

Tim covered his mouth, breathing heavily through the gaps of his fingers. His eyes swelled up with a pair of tears.

“It’s…it’s really…is you. Y-You actually are…Avery.” He slowly embraced Avery from behind. He squeezed him, refusing to let go. “I hope this isn’t a dream.”

***

Around twenty minutes had passed since Tim made his unbelievable discovery. Tim and Avery sat shoulder to shoulder, catching up on everything since their separation. The dark fragrance was overflowing with laughter and sheer happiness as they joked around like they used to.

They shared the same blue eyes, blonde hair, and a sense of humor. They made humor out of all sorts of things.

With his arms crossed, Roger was a tad annoyed that he wasn’t involved in the conversations. He opened his mouth only for nothing to exit. He growled like an angry dog, slamming his hand to the ground. He finally found the words he’d been looking for.

“So, let me get this straight. You two are tight friends who got separated, am I correct?”

They simultaneously nodded.

“Tim, you never mentioned anything about having a close friend like this.”

“What? Why would I randomly bring it up? Besides, not to sound like a brute like you, but I thought… he was no more.” On second thought, Tim realized how awful that sounded. “I mean—”

“No, it’s ok. Truth be told, I thought the same for you.” His contagious giggle spread to Tim.

“How long did you two know each other?” Roger oddly asked a bunch of questions. Usually, he would wait for someone else to talk, but this situation didn’t allow him to.

Avery instantly replied. “We were together for two years but separated for four.”

“Okay, forget that. I have a question I want to revisit: Where did you get those injuries from?”

Forget that? He’s the one who literally asked!

Avery looked at his blueish arms. “W-Well, I—”

“He doesn’t have to answer that.”

Roger cocked his head back in shock. He wasn’t expecting that from Tim. “What are you tryna say?”

“I’m trying to say he doesn’t have to answer that. I mean, look. There’s a reason why he’s covered in bruises and cuts. Let’s not squeeze an answer out of him today. Maybe some other time.”

Avery took a calming sign, placing his hand over his chest. Roger, however, looked utterly confused.

“What do you mean ‘some other time?’”

“It means that I said. He’s coming home with us. I’m not leaving him alone in this state.”

“That’s not even my decision. It’s Jill’s,” Roger said, getting up.

Tim knew it was Jill’s decision, but he couldn’t care less. Jill had a soft spot for the injured, so he could use it as leverage to let Avery stay. When his wounds finally healed, he could convince Jill to let Avery be a permanent resident.

At least, that’s how Tim envisioned it.

“I know you're a brute, but would you leave a friend hanging like this?” Tim asked arrogantly.

“Tsk, fine, I guess. I couldn’t care. And I am not a brute!”

Tim placed his arms over Avery’s shoulders, giving off a victorious smile. He then sprung onto his feet, anxious to continue walking.

“Can you even walk?” Roger asked while pouring his drinking water into the fire.

Avery stood up, groaning in annoyance. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Ok! Let’s head home! I wonder what Jill made for dinner.” From there, the three continued on their long journey home.