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They say it takes 66 days to build a habit, and 21 days to lose it.
It’s easy to fall into a routine, for a soldier like him. A set fall-in time. The usual training, the usual motions, the usual company. To him, an unfamiliar face, a simple delay, a singularity is easily spotted. An intruder swiftly dealt with. A skill vital for the battlefield. They say that it takes 66 days to build a habit, but well- Conrad wouldn’t remember how long it took him back then to acclimatize.
He’s always been overly talented. It does mean that it stings, like a pebble in the sole of his shoe, a fly landing on his arm, an incessant itch, when a constant is missing. He feels a displacement, this emptiness at his side where someone would usually be. And, well it's Yozak’s fault in the end, for making things…. Weird. Conrad thought he understood his friend pretty well, but apparently not.
It feels like a betrayal of the soul deep variety, where Yozak reached straight into him and twisted his cardiac muscles, pinching it right up till the blood and air backed up in his lungs.
(“Heart failure,” Julia softly explains to him, “the pressure difference pushed blood back into the poor man’s lungs. I tried my best with the equipment we have and… I’m sorry Conrad.” Surrounded by sheets of white, Julia looks otherworldly. She shouldn’t be apologetic, it’s Conrad’s failing yet again.)
To him the confession feels like bad blood building up in his chest, seeping carbon dioxide into their brothership. It- It feels like he never really knew you, never understood you (your devotion to her), to even say such a thing. The post-hangover migraine beats heavy, and Conrad thinks he can feel the reticence rush through his veins.
Conrad thinks this sickness feels like fear. It’s not right, not having Yozak by his side. It’s somewhat of an ingrained response from the battlefield not too long ago. Their perfect synergy and resonance the only reason they were left to be called heroes.
Honestly, Conrad feels more like a survivor. He sees plenty of death and very little hope.
They say it takes 21 days to lose a habit, and well, it took 21 days for Julia to rot away. Yet, he still remembers her. Conrad couldn’t bear to be by her side at the end, he was after all, undeserving and not the one she loved. Gisela recounts to him after the fact and the soil is set and enough alcohol has gone around. (“I- I just wish she didn’t have to suffer- Wasn’t it enough that she gave her life saving others-”) He held her necklace close and breathed hope in.
Back then, Julia’s warm hands and smiles were hope, while Yozak bled hope unto the earth. The steady rhythm of his pulse set the tempo he marched to. Conrad thinks that this sickness he feels is somewhat similar to how Julia’s waning face used to make him choke up. And well, maybe, this feeling of his wasn’t poison, but something different, something more.