` ` Let Me Be Your Light ` `

"Hey there Hot Shot." A voice cut through a hanging silence that clouded the air surrounding Achilles. He had been gone from the camp most the day, and as the night was starting to encroach on the land, Chester, who had just arrived back in town from one of her excursions, went to look for him. Of course, being his best friend came with the benefits of knowing his favorite hiding spots, however this one in specific was quite the climb, but that didn't stop Chester from also facing the height and getting himself up there. Right there, at the edge, sitting with his legs dangling over the ledge sat the "fearless" Achilles. He seemed lost in thought, his golden eyes focused on the dark ground somewhere far below. "Big guy?" Chester moved closer to his friend, taking a seat next to him, careful not to encroach too much in his space.

"Oh- Hey." A short response followed. Achilles had a lack of any actual care for the words leaving his mouth. He was here, but he wasn't. Chester scooted an inch closer, trying to slowly close the gap between her and Achilles.

"That was quite the climb haha! You really like-" Chester started to try and pull out the usual friendly and upbeat personality, realizing only moments later that now was not really the appropriate time for that. "Achilles… I- What's wrong?" She was worried. He only got like this when something serious happens, but he had no guess on what exactly might have happened while she was gone. Achilles simply just shifted his position a bit, but still did not raise his head. He seemed to be trying to form a response, his body was having trouble giving up.

"Baba Hagen is.. He passed this morning." His words felt like bee stings when he spoke. That was the closest thing he had to a living parent he just lost.


SOMTHING SOMETHING IN BETWEEN I JUST WANNA GET TO THE TENDER SHIT

"Achilles, aren't the stars lovely tonight?" The words rang through the quiet night, interrupting the silence. Chester finally moved a hand to meet the one Achilles had resting on his leg, fingers slowly slipping around his calloused palm. There was a tremble there, soft but still present, something Chester knew all too well when it came to her friend. Achilles' attention finally moved to Chester. That was a step in the right direction. His eyes looked tired, a red lined puffiness to them. He had been crying. This hurt Chester to see, but she was also used to seeing people in times of grief.

She gave Achilles' hand a squeeze and once again tried to turn his attention to the night sky above. Still however, the grieving man's head lulled back to a lowered gaze. Chester reached his free hand over, pushing his chin gently, raising it just enough for him to see the sky instead of the ground.