Page 385 of Once Upon a Fable

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Jareth looked up from pouring an incredibly generous amount of amber liquor into three glasses, his eyes narrowing as Kas and I stepped into the games room. “Took you long enough.”

Kas didn’t say anything.

He’d been quiet on the walk back, holding my hand as if he’d never let me go. Occasionally, he’d glance at me as if he couldn’t quite follow the sequence of events since Jareth had strolled into his valley. When we stepped over the threshold back into Fables, he’d raised our interlinked hands and kissed the back of my knuckles, sending butterflies dancing through my belly.

The way he’d looked at me? God, it’d stolen my breath.

His dark eyes...changed.

As we stood barely inside the doorway, a decision seemed to manifest in his gaze.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. Not because his eyes were clouded with demons and etched with pain like usual, but because they were...clear. So clear they almost sparkled with resolution, as if whatever had happened on the walk back had given him some light, some hope, some power to change things he hadn’t been able to change before.

It’d sent my heart hiccupping with questions.

I’d wanted to stop and talk without Jareth’s presence.

I wanted to know what’d happened to change his shadowy stare into one blazing with conviction.

I wanted to check his head was okay, that his memories weren’t too crippling, that he was stillhim. We needed to talk—to finally have a conversation about all the things we’d either ignored or not been brave enough to broach, but he’d just shook his head, pressed a final kiss to my skin, and guided me into the ivy-covered mansion where so much badness had happened.

The strange thing was...walking through the foyer to join Jareth in the games room had felt different. The house wasn’t as heavy. The walls not as cloying. There were cracks appearing. Cracks brought about by acold-hearted brother who’d returned, somehow reminding the trapped brother to breathe. To step out of his prison and see that he could survive, after all.

Jareth grabbed two of the heavy glass tumblers and came toward us. “Here. Seeing as there are no drugs, this will have to do.” He peered at the redness on Kas’s temple from where he punched him. “That hurt?”

Kas shrugged. “My head hasn’t exactly felt the best for a while.”

“In that case, have a drink. Alcohol makes most things better.”

Kas cracked a smile. “If that was the case, I would’ve stayed drunk.”

Jareth turned serious, their bond sharing things I wasn’t privy to. “Not gonna lie, I came close to drinking myself into oblivion too.” His head tilted a little, the cords in his neck stark with a fine line of ink creeping out of his collar. “I know the reasons I stopped. But why did you?” He handed the glass to Kas, his jaw clenched with his own past.

Kas took the heavy tumbler, swirling the generous pour inside.

I waited for him to either deflect, refuse to reply, or plain just shut down. The Kas I’d grown to know didn’t do well talking about the past. I’d accepted he might never be ready to—

“I stopped because it was either death by liquor or death by starvation.” Inhaling roughly, Kas shocked me stiff as he continued, “It was year three, I think? Three years I lasted on my own, not knowing who I was or why I was alone, eating my way through a house filled with food. But then...the food was almost gone. I was forced to make a choice—leave or figure out a way to make more.” He kept staring into the alcohol in his hand. “I didn’t know the first thing about gathering or growing. So...I ignored it for as long as I could. Each time I’d finish a packet or empty the last can, I’d be faced with a decision I couldn’t make. I didn’t know why I couldn’t leave, but if I couldn’t leave, then how could I stay? How could I stay if I didn’t know how to replenish everything that I’d eaten?”

He sighed and raised the glass to his lips, taking a small sip. “The night I took my first drink was the first night I was able to relax and not worry about a future I didn’t even know if I wanted. I drank myself into a stupor, woke up the next morning, and did it all over again. I grew addicted to the numbness, the peace from horrors I couldn’t even remember. All spring and summer, I kept drinking, ignoring the fact that my diet had become stale crackers and copious amounts of vodka. I didn’t care I lost weight and grew weak because I had plenty of alcohol. So many more bottles than packets and cans.”

He took another sip, his voice haunting and cold at the same time. “It was so easy to continue drinking, sleeping, and forgetting. And that was the kicker...I kept waiting to figure outwhyI liked forgetting when I’d already forgotten. I didn’t know my name, my family, or my history. For five years, I forgot about you, about Storymaker, about everything. But fuck, that dark shit stayed inside me, taunting me to remember. Alcohol helped.” He laughed under his breath. “It helped way too much. It got to the point I couldn’t function without being blind fucking drunk.”

Jareth handed me the second glass, his attention still on Kas. “Whatsnapped you out of it?”

Kas shrugged, bringing his glass to his lips again. His eyes met mine, crystal clear with clarity instead of shadows. A clarity that was new and oh so wonderful, even while he willingly waded through his past. “I chose to live. By the end of winter, I’d almost run out of alcohol, and I’d definitely run out of food. I was starving all the time. I resorted to eating cockroaches and whatever animal I could get my hands on. By spring, I’d had enough. I wasn’t ready to die even though it would’ve been so, so easy. I turned to books instead of booze. I suffered withdrawal for a while—looking at the same bottle you just opened, salivating like an addict for just one sip. But I wanted to keep those last few bottles for the day when I couldn’t do it anymore.”

Jareth inhaled with icy understanding. “They were your bullet.”

Kas nodded, not looking at me. “The day when I finally decided to end it, I was gonna drink myself into that numb nothingness and then walk out into the snow and go to sleep.” He rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat. “It helped knowing they were there...just in case. It gave me the strength to read as much as I could and figure out how to cultivate and hunt. I figured I could die anytime I wanted, but while I was alive, I preferred a full belly over an empty one.”

I swallowed hard, blinking fast.

In just a few paragraphs, Kas had revealed more about his struggles than he had in weeks. It made me want to hug him for turning a corner and slap him for taking so long. Ihurtfor him, all while I wanted to jump up and down in joy.

If talking was healing, then...he’s healing.