“Theo…” I paused at the doorway before gently pushing his bedroom door open.
The wood swung inward with a soft creak, revealing a scene that made my heart clench painfully in my chest.
Theo was sitting quietly on the edge of his bed, staring out the window.
His small frame was still, unusually still, his usual restless energy completely absent.
The morning light filtered through the glass, casting a pale glow across his features, highlighting the shadows beneath his eyes.
He had already changed into his only black outfit—a simple tunic and trousers that he’d worn only before, for a funeral.
The fabric was slightly too large for him, hanging loosely on his thin shoulders.
Resting across his lap was his small wooden sword, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the worn handle.
The motion was slow, repetitive, almost hypnotic, as though he were trying to ground himself in the familiar texture.
The moment I saw him dressed like that, I understood.
It wasn’t like Theo to not wake me up.
Normally, he’d either jump onto my bed with all the grace of a falling rock or stand over me with the creepiest smile imaginable until I woke up.
He’d never wait.
He’d just woke up and ran to you announcing his presence with the subtlety of a thunderclap, his voice filling every corner of the house.
But today was different.
Today, he hadn’t come out of his room.
I had been the one to wake him.
“Bibi has passed away,” he said softly.
His voice was so quiet I almost didn’t hear it.
The words hung in the air.
They seemed to echo in the silence, each syllable carrying the weight of his grief.
“I see.” There was nothing else to say.
What could I possibly offer that would ease this pain?
What words could mend a broken heart?
I’d learned long ago that sometimes the best comfort was simply being present, simply acknowledging the loss without trying to fix it.
“I’ll go get ready.” I quietly closed the door behind me.
Sometimes silence was kinder than words.
I walked into my room—or rather, the room Garrett had taken over after nearly murdering me with a pen on the first day.
The space had started to smell faintly of him, of earth and something indefinable.
His presence had become a permanent fixture in this room.
I doubt if I told him to move that he would.
“Good morning to you too,” Garrett muttered from the bed.
His voice was rough with sleep, his head turning toward the sound of my entrance.
Even half-asleep, his senses were sharp, tracking my movements with practiced ease.
I shut the door behind me, the latch clicking softly.
“We have to get dressed.” I opened the wardrobe and reached for my black robes.
The fabric was heavy and cool beneath my fingers, the familiar weight grounding me.
“For what?” He asked, sitting up.
“A funeral.” I replied.
His face fell immediately.
I pulled the clothes from the wardrobe, laying them out on the small table.
The black material pooled on the wood, dark as mourning.
“Who died?” He asked.
“Theo’s friend.” I paused, my hand still resting on the fabric.
“Bibi.” “Oh…” His voice softened, the sleep fading from it.
I could hear the genuine sympathy in his tone.
“I’m sorry.” “Mm.” He hesitated, and I could feel his gaze on me despite his blindness.
“You don’t sound particularly—” Knock.
Knock.
“Mister?” Theo’s voice came from outside, small and fragile.
It was a shadow of his usual cheerful tone, stripped of its warmth.
Garrett stood and opened the door.
His movements were slower than usual, more careful, as though he were approaching something delicate.
Theo looked up at him with swollen, red eyes.
His cheeks were blotchy, his nose running.
He’d clearly been crying for a while before he’d come to us, probably alone in his room, trying to process his grief.
“Mister…
would you do me the honor of attending my friend’s funeral?” His voice cracked on the last word, but he pushed through it with admirable strength.
His small hands were trembling, clutching at the hem of his tunic.
“Of course,” Garrett answered without hesitation.
Theo smiled weakly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes.
It was a ghost of his usual grin, fragile and fleeting.
“Thank you.” Then he remembered something, his face brightening slightly.
“The dress code is black.”Theo said.
“…Dress code?” Garret asked.
It was a funeral of course everyone would be wearing black.
Having a dress code sounded strange to Garret.
I wasn’t going to explain the situation though.
“Bibi’s favorite color was black.” Theo said.
You could hear the sadness in his voice.
“I understand.” Garret said calmly “I’ll find something suitable.” Fortunately, the Goddess had filled the wardrobes with clothes in every size imaginable.
It was one of the few useful things she’d done when creating this sanctuary—preparing for any contingency, any visitor.
After searching for a moment, I found a simple black outfit that fit Garrett well enough—a tunic and trousers that would have to do.
They weren’t elegant, but they were respectful.
It was simple.
Theo wouldn’t want anyone there that didn’t fit in.
If you couldn’t wear black it was best you say at home but the colours for this funerals changed all the time.
Whatever Theo decided we wore to this funerals was what we wore.
We had no choice.
“Here.” I gave them to him.
“Thank you.” He replied.
I left the room and went to Theo’s room to go get dressed.
Garret would be able to dress himself; he had done it by himself the past few days.
I would say he was really good at adapting.
I can’t imagine going blind.
I wouldn’t be able to do anything regardless if the blindness was temporary.
This he deserves praise for but I would never tell him such.
No matter how many times we did this I couldn’t get used to it.
I wonder what Garret reaction would be when he found out