"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
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There was something so scathingly normal about what they were talking about, but Maxim couldn't help it. Brendan was a slice of his past life. He knew there would need to be a point where he stopped trying to reminisce about the times in his life he actually enjoyed, but it wasn't while Brendan was here, standing alive in front of him.

But the other question remained. How exactly was Maxim going to sum up the past few days?

"Well...I guess I woke up. There were other people around, a few girls, didn't really know them. I moved on, I ran into...ran into Benjamin Fields, you know him? I tried offering him a team-up, but he would not take it. Eventually I ran into a better Ben, Ben Lichter. And also Lili Williams. We stayed together for quite a while, and...the next morning, I found out Cristo died. Lili disappeared. We tried looking for her, but all that happened was that I lost Ben as well, and... I was alone."

Maxim paused.

"I thought I could find other people, but after a while, I just stopped looking. I do not think I met another person for... three days, three days I think. I ran into this girl. Junko was her name. I offered to team up, to help her, but she ran off and got killed. And... then I ended up here. I came to see the smoke. And I believe that is it."

Maxim met Brendan's gaze.

"I wish I had a more exciting story to tell. Maybe one where I was caught by some big killer, and had to beg for my life, or use my wits to escape. But... well, considering where we are, I think I'm okay being boring for now."

It all came back to Maxim's scathing normalcy, didn't it? What did it really care how good of a story his experience on this island made? It didn't matter much. The only story that mattered was the one being told right now, the one that saw him surviving another day. That was a story he had control over, a story he could write himself. And if that story so happened to end with his own survival, well, then being boring was okay. Life was not a storybook, filled with twists and climaxes and dashing heroes with swords and capes. If Maxim could take his hand and tell a story so daring it led to him surviving this island and the people on it, well then he would do so, he would make himself a hero to be admired, but that was not how it worked. There were always more heroic people than him.

Then again, some of them were probably dead.

"So... what about you? And who is your friend here?"
I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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