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They say nothing.
When they pack their essentials in the large heavy duty bags that Datz had lying around from his time in the army of the country just over yonder, when Nahyuta folds his clothes into tidy piles and puts them away just as tidily, and when Apollo rolls his own up and shoves them into the bag without much care, they say nothing. The clothes they choose and the things they decide to bring with them say it all.
Red tank top.
A crumbled up photo.
Apollo leaves his bracelet behind. Nahyuta leaves something behind too, but neither of them are entirely sure what.
It’s probably too much, what with how heavy their bags are on their backs, but it’s really nothing in comparison to the lead in their stomachs and the thoughts on their minds. Datz drives them to the bottom of the mountain. He clicks the radio off as they shuffle out of the car. He gives the brothers a solemn smile and says goodbye. They say goodbye back.
And then they say nothing.
The mountains are a lot steeper than Apollo remembers, but then again, he’d not been allowed down them very often. He remembers the times when Datz would bring the two of them down, in disguises of course, to wander through the plaza and to purchase things at the market. Running up and down the stairs with Nahyuta, blending in with the other kids if only for a short moment, before going into hiding again. Running up the mountain and giggling while Datz failed to hush them, clicking the rocks together as some sort of trail to remember where they’d been, just in case they ever wanted to make it down by themselves. Apollo looks over at his brother and wonders if he’s remembering the same thing, and figures not- Nahyuta had more time on the mountain. In the country.
Apollo stops looking back at the bottom, heading forward.
Nahyuta watches Apollo’s movements, how grown and different he is compared to when he saw him last- well, when they were kids. When Nahyuta was a little prince, and when Apollo was the little girl he accepted as his new sibling. But Nahyuta has to remind himself that the last time he saw Apollo was in court, or at dinner, or in the gardens, touring with Ahlbi or conversing with Princess Rayfa. He’s been in the country for half a year at this point, and Nahyuta wants to stop looking back on the past. But they’re going up the mountain, and he can’t exactly help it.
He knows the path well.
He remembers when he first left it for good, becoming a prosecutor meant leaving it behind. It meant leaving everything behind.
A trail of stones on the ground with little carvings on them. The trees that had seen so much, whose leaves filtered out children’s laughter and secrets of the rebels. The path, beaten and used and loved by those willing to climb it, because it meant it wasn’t forgotten. The speck of purple fluttering around in the midst. The lack of a proper goodbye. An ungiven hug.
Nahyuta won’t let it show on his face, and he won’t say anything. He already knows Apollo is thinking about it.
They keep walking.
The river a little more than halfway up causes Apollo to stop. If he remembered correctly, then it was the one with the little fishies that Nahyuta and Datz used to catch for breakfast. While Apollo and… him gathered the rice, cooked it until it was sticky and moldable, the other pair would catch the fish and bring them home nice and fresh. They’d meet halfway between the fishing spot and the village and eat there. He remembers the strong hands molding the rice into little pockets, and he remembers stuffing the sour fishy paste that Datz had made into the rice himself, closing them up. Nahyuta would wrap them in the dried seaweed and set them all nice and neat. They could all do this separately, really, but it was nice to work together on it.
Nahyuta stops too, and watches the expression on Apollo’s face change and shift. He doesn’t look very happy.
“Hey, Yuty?” Apollo says, and his tone is quiet, contemplative. Nahyuta responds with a hushed, “yes?”
“What was that food called that we-” Apollo speaks, and he’s cut off abruptly.
“ Oh’puh’mah, ” Nahyuta responds hastily, then clears his throat and adds on slowly, “...it is called oh’puh’mah. It roughly translates to ‘soul of sea.’”
Apollo hums, and Nahyuta ignores how the other man tries to take apart his expression, and then they move on.
Nahyuta files away the moment in his head for now.
Apollo can’t get rid of the taste as they continue to walk.
They say nothing else.
They walk, and their legs ache, and the pit in their stomachs only grows the closer they get to the top of the mountain. It’s definitely not too soon, it’s been a decade since Nahyuta returned, even longer for Apollo, but the wound still feels fresh. It feels like just yesterday they were little kids nearly drowning in the rushing river that they follow to the top, except the river doesn’t really rush anymore. It’s still the same river, and the sound is far more calming now, but it’s different. It’s still the same. Nahyuta catches sight of a tiny silvery fish swimming calmly through it, and he takes a deep breath.
Apollo casts his gaze around the village. It’s about the same in quietness as it was all those years ago, but for different reasons he reckons. The glimpses he catches of the people here are those who are on the older side. When he lived here it was full of quiet rebels, young and old who weren’t exactly in support, but definitely didn’t tattle about the fact that there were freedom fighters and their children living just past the village.
He wonders if any of them would recognize him, or if he’d recognize any of them.
He wonders how many of them fell to the regime.
As Nahyuta catches up with him, finished with the river, Apollo notices that that’s probably the first thing that came to his brother’s mind. Shame resides on Nahyuta’s face as he looks over the village. Apollo reaches out his hand and holds onto his brother’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb over it assuringly, and they keep walking.
They say nothing.
The grass is up to their knees as they hike through the unlived area of the mountain- no one had stayed here in a good few years, if Apollo hazarded a guess. But Nahyuta can pinpoint the exact amount of time since someone lived here. More rebel activity, less hiding, all spurred on by the big dragon himself coming down from the mountain. He wonders if it was to fight for the rebellion, or if the memories of who was no longer there went sour, and the more he thinks about it the less he wants to continue walking on, but he can’t forget Apollo.
Determined, depressed, desperate Apollo. He’s stomping his feet into the ground like it’s done something wrong to him, and his gaze pierces through the mess of overgrown branches and trees like he’s looking for something. Nahyuta knows what he’s looking for, and where to look for it, but figures that it’s been so long since Apollo’s been up there that he doesn’t. He has to hold back the snickers he wants to let out at Apollo’s unsureness, how he’s stumbling over himself. It takes Nahyuta away from the present and back to when they were kids, when they’d both explore through the forests, and Apollo would swear up and down that he knew where they were going. He didn’t, and Nahyuta would let the younger child wander until he gave up and let Nahyuta lead them back home.
It’s almost tempting, but he won’t be cruel, and he catches up to Apollo and guides him. A few emotions spread across Apollo’s face: surprise, that old annoyance of a younger sibling, and the eventual thankfulness. He slows down and follows after his big brother.
And they say nothing.
But when the old house- their home comes into view, both of them can feel the words dancing on the tip of their tongue, begging to be said.
The thatched roof.
An open pen that once held the rabbits they’d have for dinner.
The old, broken lanterns that hung beside the windows.
The path that leads towards the entrance is overgrown with weeds and grass, speckled with little blue flowers and mossy rocks underneath all of the green. The entrance to the house is a wooden door that had clearly seen better days, the hinges rusted from the rain and the rot of the wood. Nahyuta guesses that if he grabbed the handle and opened the door a little too hard, it would break altogether. And what would happen after that? If the door opened, what would be left behind it to find? Would there even be anything? What did… what did his father take with him, and what did he dispose of, and what did he leave? Nahyuta stands still, and he wills his knees to stop shaking despite how bad they want to, and he bites his lip as he looks over the house and-
Apollo pushes the door open gently. The door doesn’t fall apart, and nothing jumps out at them, and Nahyuta can’t see anything inside yet because his brother stands in the way. Apollo looks back and his face has understanding written all over it. His brown eyes, big and tired and loving, look back at Nahyuta, and his smile that’s soft and assuring puts Nahyuta at ease.
Apollo reaches out his hand for Nahyuta to hold, and squeezes it when they’re finally intertwined.
They say nothing.
And they go in together.