Wax

Twenty Nine

That night, he dreamt about the look in his eyes. It wasn't a fight. It wasn't, so that look in his eyes didn't count. That cracking and all, it could be fixed. It wasn't going to stay that way. He could melt it down and wait for it to freeze back up and it would be healed. It would be whole again.

And above all, it wasn't too late. It was never too late; or so he thought.

Yet in his dreams, he would stand in the exact same spot he stood that night. He would see the look in his eyes and time would stop, as though giving him a chance, a second attempt at the moment and to rethink his actions so he would. He would think about the many other things he could have done before it all came crashing down in that very instance and the many other times he could have stopped himself from going down that path of destruction but the reconstructions, ultimately, led to the exact same end and then, he was back. In the same spot. Hearing the exact same thing. And then redoing himself; all over again.

It wasn't like how they said it would be in the books. In the movies. There was no quiet falling of tears or silent shaking of his head and the absolute look of disbelief that scratched and needled at his heart, no.

Because when the world falls apart, it roars.

That crack in his eyes tore at his heart and ripped it open to find the burning seed, the flame that was the cause of everything and desperately needed to be put out. It smelled like ruins and smoke in the middle of a thunderstorm. Destruction and emptiness. A barren land.

The night passed.

And when Leroy woke from his dream, he was alone.

====================

[Leroy]

"—the wedges." "Cox." "Wait for the flaggers. Cox!"

I looked up. Seated. Headphones for comms in the engine still on, muffled voices all around and Zales staring at me from past the open door as though I was a madman. The rest of the engine was empty. Fuck.

I made a move on, doubling in speed and surveying the parameters for a quick assessment. I was a step behind everyone else who'd brought out the step chocks and wedges but one look at the MVA and I could tell they'd be needing a hydraulic spreader. I got that out. The driver was standing to the side of the road—tended to by rookie and Jung keeping an eye on both him and the situation up front. He radio-ed for the spreader.

Minutes after the driver calmed down and had his minor cuts and bruises fixed, we sent him off on the ambulance to the nearest hospital for a final check whilst clearing the scene of hazardous material from the vehicle that could've put those walking down the street in danger. I checked the time.

He'd be awake by now. Minutes, or maybe even seconds to realize I'd already left for work, and then. Feel. I wasn't there and I'd left without a word. Feel. They told me it would take at least two to three more days until my apartment was ready so options were low. I'd have to camp out in the firehouse for a bit. Go back to get a couple of things, of course. The jacket. JBL. And my boy, of course.

Or maybe not the jacket. Maybe he thought it was about time I returned it. Maybe he was right.

We left the scene and headed back to the firehouse for the crew's morning routine and throughout the ride, the engine remained ghost-quiet. There was no stopping by the grocery store for ingredients. We agreed on take-out for lunch later on in the day.