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Is it crashing when it’s a goddess crashing on your sofa?
Holloway isn’t sure, but the fact Webby crashed so hard into sleep Holloway didn’t know she could even really do is worrying her. In the meantime she’s heated up a slice of cherry pie and is currently brewing some tea, and she hopes Webby will wake up soon.
She is breathing—which doesn’t really mean anything considering Webby doesn’t need to do that to survive, but it calms Holloway’s nerves anyway. Her hands still shake as she stirs five spoonfuls of sugar into Webby’s cup. She even has her own personal mug at Holloway’s now, a pink little thing that's prettier than it is useful, but Webby loves it so much that Holloway can’t protest much.
It takes another hour before Webby wakes up, so to speak. Holloway manages to warm up her food easily, sitting down on the floor beside her. For a long moment they’re silent, but she’s never seen Webby like this. Her eyes are puffy—fully in her human form, and there's a vacancy to her stare.
“You okay, darling?” Holloway finally asks, soft and slow as she guides the mug of tea over to Webby.
She doesn’t pick it up, doesn’t even glance at Holloway or the table. And she doesn’t answer Holloway either. Now she’s even more worried, and she has no idea what to do. Webby has never been like this. That had been part of the allure, neither of them felt fully human and therefore didn’t have to deal with the aspects of humanity neither of them wanted to confront. Or could confront.
But now something is wrong, and Webby is like this, and Holloway is starting to feel useless. She hates feeling useless. That’s why she busies herself with Miss Retros, and chasing after kids. Anything to stop that useless feeling setting in, as the rest of her immortality unfolds in front of her.
“Webby,” she coaxes again, gentle as she folds her hands over the pale white of Webby’s. Holloway cradles it, rubbing soft circles across her skin. “Can you look at me?”
That works. Black and white flecks jump to meet Holloway’s, and they flicker across the features of Holloway’s face. They shine with tears that remain unshed.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong, darling?”
With the quiver of her lip Webby shakes her head, pressing the curve of her chin into her shoulder. Her eyelids squeeze closed, those little black and white eyes disappearing. Holloway’s stomach flips at the sight.
Holloway leans closer, gently squeezing her hand. “If you don’t tell me what’s up, I can’t help you. Please?”
Webby breathes in, as if steeling herself for something. Her hand shakes in Holloway’s grapes, and she opens her eyes again.
“I don’t understand,” she gets out, so quiet Holloway barely catches it despite the silence of the room around them. “She’s gone. How can she be gone?”
Despite not saying who ‘she’ is, Holloway knows immediately. Now her heart sinks, and she wonders whether Webby is talking about the current timeline or another. Not that it matters—either way she is devastated.
“Oh, Webby.” Holloway is quick to hold her, letting Webby sink her weight into her. Holloway would take away all her pain, her grief, her sickness and take it on for herself, if she could. But Holloway doesn’t have that power, and all she can do is offer comfort now. “It’s not your fault. It never is.”
“Why do humans have to be so fragile, Holly? Why can’t they stay with me forever, like you?”
Forever… The word makes Holloway queasy, but she puts on a smile anyway.
“That’s the beauty of life.” She presses a kiss to the crown of Webby’s head. “It’s so gentle and easy to break, but that’s what makes protecting them so important. I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to feel this, that you didn’t have to lose her.”
With the smallest of shudders Webby nods, snuggling close and her eyes drifting off again. Into, well. Not sleep, but whatever it is that will make Webby recover from this.
“She’s too important. Too… Hmm.”
Her own words stick with her.
If the beauty of life is how easy it can die away.
Then what is life to Holloway? An endless stretch.
These are the sort of questions she makes herself too busy to ponder. So now she busies herself with caring for Webby, because at least she’s figuing out how to do that. One step at a time.