A Deal's a Deal

Chapter Nineteen

For the rest of the day, you waited.

When your tears finally stopped, you got out of bed and got dressed, forcing yourself to eat despite your lack of appetite. Once you finished, you went out on the deck and cleaned up the mess from the night before, collecting the scattered clothes and disposing of the broken plates. You glanced at the island, searching for a glimpse of Buggy, but didn't get one.

So you kept waiting.

You made your bed and washed the dishes. Around midday, you went back outside and sat in your chair, opening your sketchbook to pass the time. You tried to draw something that would take your mind off of Buggy, anything at all, but when you saw the last drawing you'd made of him, you began to cry again. You had to shut the book to keep the paper dry.

Still, you kept waiting.

In the afternoon, you climbed out of the boat and dipped your feet in the water, watching as small, colorful fish swam around your ankles. You uttered your first laugh of the day when one of them began to follow you, only to notice that its scales were blue and red, and your heart sank. You sat on the beach to get away from it, drawing mindlessly in the sand. You drew a fish. A pirate ship. A jolly roger with a clown nose. You kept looking at the trees across the beach, hoping you might see Buggy come out. He did not.

You kept waiting.

As sunset drew nearer, you began to worry. You'd been sure that if he intended to, Buggy would have returned by now; you were starting to fear that he wouldn't.

What if something had happened to him on the island? There were no people, but what if there were wild beasts, creatures that could have gotten him? You knew Buggy was resilient, but he wasn't invincible. Maybe he'd tried to come back, but had been attacked on the way. Maybe something had killed him, and he was never coming back.

No. You told yourself that couldn't be true. With the powers he had, it was near-impossible to kill him. Even if an opponent outclassed him in strength, he was crafty and quick, and he'd find a way to outsmart them. Buggy was fine. You were sure of it.

So why hadn't he come back? You couldn't wrap your head around it. You knew he was hurt. Furious. But he couldn't stay on this island. Had he even had anything to eat all day? Did he intend to spend the night in the woods? That couldn't be possible. You wished you had something, anything that could get you in contact with him. You just needed to make sure he was alright.

You had to go find him.

^ ^ ^

Looking for Buggy proved more than difficult.

The island was small, but it was large enough to get lost in, with a jungle of thick trees and unmarked paths that could easily lead you astray. You were wary as you traversed the forest, armed with only your knife and whatever else in your bag you'd thought might be useful. You were alert at all times, ready to defend yourself from any threats, but as you pressed on, you found that everything was oddly quiet. Almost peaceful. You could hear birds somewhere above you, the chitter of what was probably little monkeys in the treetops, but nothing that could hurt you. And certainly no humans.

Which meant, distressingly, no Buggy.

It did not take long for darkness to fall, and you lit a lantern to guide your way. You cursed yourself for not leaving the boat earlier in the day, when the sun was out; it would have been so much easier to look for Buggy. But how could you have known he wasn't coming back? You'd needed the time alone anyway. You'd needed to cry, to think.

You didn't want to be alone anymore. You had to find him.

You could not tell how much time was passing as you traveled the island. You were tired and hungry, but in your determination to find Buggy, you hardly noticed. You kept going, despite stumbling here and there, getting a scratch or two on your arms from sharp branches. As you wandered, you began to call out his name. Maybe, just maybe, he would hear you.