61 – Day of Rest 7 (Part 2)
The dining hall was at its calmest. Trays were already served, conversations flowed in low tones, and even the chef seemed less grumpy than usual. The Killer Bass and the rest of the competitors ate without hurry, as if the day itself had given them permission to breathe.
Heather spoke with Beth and Lindsay about strategies. Gwen half-listened while Noah and Owen debated whether orange juice counted as a complete breakfast. DJ and Bridgette shared comfortable silences. Duncan teased Geoff for putting honey on everything. Everything seemed normal.
Until the dining hall doors swung open.
Cody entered.
He didn't walk. He strutted.
With firm steps, a confident smile, and an energy that could be felt from the entrance. His hair still damp from the shower, his shirt clean, and the scars barely visible beneath his collar. He looked like he'd stepped out of a movie scene… or a hero shampoo commercial.
"Did you miss me, or were you already planning to replace me with a painted log?" Cody said, teasing.
There was a second of silence.
And then, applause.
Noah raised his tray like a trophy. Owen clapped enthusiastically, pounding the table. Lindsay stood, applauding with a smile that lit up the hall.
"Cody, the bear tamer!" Owen shouted.
"The guy who came back with style!" Geoff added.
Cody gave an exaggerated bow, as if he were on Broadway. "Thank you, thank you. I don't fight bears every day, but when I do… I make sure breakfast is waiting hot."
He walked to the table where Noah, Owen, and Gwen sat. He greeted the others with a gesture, but didn't stop. His destination was clear.
He sat beside Gwen.
And without another word, leaned in and kissed her on the lips.
It wasn't long. Nor dramatic. It was direct, firm, with the naturalness of someone who knew that gesture was part of his day. As if the world had paused for a second to let it happen.
Gwen froze for an instant. Then lowered her gaze, blushing, with a smile she didn't try to hide.
"First thing I needed this morning," Cody said, with a smile mixing humor and tenderness.
"And second thing… eggs with bacon. Nothing better to start the day," he added, grabbing his tray.
Heather watched from her table, frowning. Lindsay let out an "aww" that sounded sincere. Beth smiled discreetly. Courtney raised an eyebrow. Izzy clapped again, not sure if it was for the kiss or the style.
"Since when do you kiss before eating?" Noah said, mocking.
"Since I almost became bear sushi. You've got to prioritize what matters," Cody said.
Owen laughed. "Then I'm going to kiss my pancake!"
"Only if it kisses you back," Cody said.
Gwen still said nothing. But her hand brushed Cody's under the table. A small, intimate gesture that said more than any words.
Heather looked away, but not before sneaking a glance at Gwen. Lindsay watched with curiosity. Beth murmured something that sounded like "about time."
The group relaxed. Laughter returned. The dining hall regained its rhythm, but with something new. Something different.
Cody was back.
And not just as a competitor.
As a symbol.
As a friend.
As someone who, without asking, had earned a place at every table.
And in a heart.
The table was full, but the atmosphere was intimate. Gwen, Noah, and Owen ate at a slow pace, as if breakfast were more an excuse to be together than a necessity. Cody, freshly arrived, sat among them with a loaded tray and a smile stronger than any bandage.
The sun streamed through the dining hall windows, lighting the old wood and the tired but calm faces. The chef muttered in the kitchen, and the rest of the group spoke in whispers. But at that table, the conversation had another tone.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Gwen asked, discreetly glancing at Cody's side.
"Yes. I feel like I fought a bear and won. Which, technically… is true," Cody said, cutting his bacon with surgical precision.
"And your arm? Your leg? Your soul?" Owen asked dramatically.
"All in place. Though it was tough getting bear blood off the knife. That stuff sticks like industrial paint," Cody said, raising his fork as if it were the weapon in question.
Noah laughed. "You kept it?"
"Of course. I cleaned it, sharpened it, and put it back in my backpack. It's my new charm. If anyone asks why I have it, I'll just say: 'souvenir from a bad day with a good ending,'" Cody said.
Gwen smiled, but said nothing. Her hand brushed Cody's again under the table, as if that gesture mattered more than any words.
"Well, at least you're here now. Yesterday was weird without you. The chef complained, Heather got strange, Lindsay almost cried, and Noah… well, Noah got nostalgic," Owen said.
Noah lowered his gaze, pretending the pancake in front of him was more interesting than the conversation.
"Katie, right?" Cody said.
Noah nodded. "Yeah. I don't know, these days have made me think about her more than usual. I guess seeing someone risk themselves like that… reminds you of what really matters."
"Did you write to her?" Gwen asked.
"I tried. But I don't know what to say. I don't want to sound cheesy. Or desperate. Or like someone regretting not saying something earlier," Noah said.
"Then tell her exactly that. That you don't know what to say. Sometimes the most honest thing is the clearest," Cody said.
Owen looked at him in surprise. "Since when are you the emotional guru of the group?"
"Since I became the guy who blocks bears with his body. I got wisdom powers through animal contact," Cody said solemnly.
Everyone laughed.
Breakfast continued. The coffee cooled. The trays emptied. But the conversation didn't lose pace.
"And you, Cody? What are you going to do with these free days?" Noah asked.
Cody shrugged. "No idea. I didn't think I'd get this far. My original plan was to survive the week and not look ridiculous. Now… I'm improvising."
"Don't you want to rest? Read something? Write to your future self?" Gwen asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe I'll just sit on a rock and stare at the lake. Sometimes having no plan is the best plan," Cody said.
Owen raised his glass. "Here's to that. To days without a script and friends who save you without asking."
"And to guys who come back with scars and style," Gwen said.
Cody smiled. "And to bacon. Which never disappoints."
Laughter returned. The dining hall carried on its routine. But at that table, the world seemed clearer.
Not because of what was said.
But because of who said it.
And how it was said.
After breakfast, camp dispersed as if the day opened like a fan. Some went to the lake, others to the cabins, and a few stayed in the dining hall chatting leisurely. But Cody and Gwen took another path.
They climbed together to the treehouse.
The place was quiet, surrounded by branches filtering the light like natural stained glass. The wind moved the leaves with a gentle rhythm, and the silence felt like refuge. Gwen sat on one of the improvised cushions, while Cody settled across from her, back against the wood.
For a moment, they said nothing.
They just were.
Until Gwen lowered her gaze, uneasy.
"Can I see them?" she asked softly.
Cody looked at her, no need to ask what she meant.
"The wounds. I just want to make sure you're okay. And… I don't know. I'm curious. But I'm also worried," Gwen said.
Cody nodded calmly. He stood slowly, took off his shirt without drama, and let the light reveal what lay beneath.
The marks.
Three diagonal lines, still healing, crossed his left side. Not superficial. Not grotesque. Real. Clear. As if his body had decided to remember what happened.
Gwen approached silently. She knelt in front of him, studying each line as if they were part of a map she didn't want to travel.
And then, without warning, her eyes filled with tears.
Not for the blood.
Not for the pain.
But for what they meant.
"They're for me. For us. For Heather and me. And I don't know how to process that," Gwen said, voice trembling.
Cody bent down, taking her hands.
"I'm fine. I swear. It's nothing. They barely hurt anymore. And besides…" he said, smiling.
"Now I look even tougher. See this? Hanayama would be jealous," he said, pointing at his side like it was a medal.
Gwen laughed through tears. "You're an idiot."
"But a functional idiot. With style. And bear scars. What more could you ask for?" Cody said.
Gwen hugged him for a moment. Not long. Not dramatic. Just enough for their bodies to understand what words couldn't say.
When they separated, Cody sat again, legs crossed.
"You know what we could do?" he said.
Gwen looked at him, wiping her cheeks.
"What?"
"Draw ourselves. Like last time. But now in post-bear version. You with your 'I'm going to emotionally analyze you' look, and me with my forest warrior scars," Cody said.
Gwen smiled. "What if this time we don't use references? Just what we see. What we feel."
"Perfect. But if you draw me with squirrel face, I'll be offended," Cody said.
"Only if you draw me with anime eyes," Gwen said.
They both settled in, pulled out the notebooks and pencils they always carried in their backpacks, and looked at each other for a moment.
Not as competitors.
Not as a couple.
But as two people who had crossed something together.
And now… were going to draw it.
The treehouse was wrapped in a calm that seemed tailor-made. Outside, the wind moved the branches with a gentle rhythm, and the sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting shadows across the floor like living brushstrokes. Cody and Gwen sat face to face, each with an open notebook and a pencil in hand. The air between them carried something different. Not tension. Not discomfort. Something deeper. More fragile.
Cody drew with enthusiasm. His style was exaggerated, theatrical, with bold strokes and impossible proportions. On his page, he appeared embracing Gwen over the defeated body of a giant bear, with a cape billowing in the wind and a dark crown on her head.
"This is very Tim Burton meets epic fanfic," Cody murmured, shading Gwen's eyes with dramatic flair.
"I'm the dark queen?" Gwen asked, without looking up.
"Obviously. You control the forest. I'm just the prince who pays tribute after saving you from the monster," Cody said.
Gwen let out a soft laugh, but didn't answer right away. Her strokes were slower, more intimate. She wasn't drawing Cody as a warrior or hero. She drew him sitting in the dining hall, at the exact moment he had kissed her. The light behind him was exaggerated, as if the sun had chosen him. His expression was calm, but his eyes held something more. Something only she had seen.
Cody leaned in, curious. "Can I see?"
Gwen hesitated. Covered the drawing with her hand. Lowered her gaze. And for the first time in a long while, she didn't hide behind sarcasm or silence.
"When you walked into the dining hall this morning… it was like everything fell into place. Like the air made sense again. I was there, surrounded by people, by noise, by food… but I wasn't complete. Not until I saw you."
Cody stayed still. Not out of surprise. Out of respect.
Gwen continued, voice low but steady.
"And it's not just because of what you did. Not just the bear, or the wounds, or the heroic gesture. It's because you came back. Because you walked in like nothing, with that silly smile and that energy you always bring. And in that moment… I knew you were back. And that I was too."
Cody swallowed. Still said nothing.
Gwen lifted the page, showing the drawing.
It was him. Sitting at the table. With the light behind him. With the expression he had just before kissing her. No exaggeration. No drama. Just him. As she saw him.
"That's how I saw you. That's how I felt you. And I don't know why it's so hard to say it. Maybe because I never let myself feel this way. Like something was missing. Like someone was missing."
Cody looked at the drawing. Then at her.
"You know what's craziest?" he said softly.
Gwen looked at him, waiting.
"That I walked in thinking about breakfast. But when I saw you… I knew that wasn't what I needed most."
Gwen smiled. Not at the words. At the tone. At the truth behind the joke.
"Idiot," she said tenderly.
"Functional idiot. With style. And bear scars," Cody said.
They both laughed. The air lightened. But something had changed.
Gwen had spoken.
And Cody had listened.
The drawings lay on the wood, silent witnesses to what couldn't be erased.
And in that corner of the tree, among branches and memories, two people looked at each other without masks.
Without script.
Just them.
The treehouse was wrapped in an atmosphere that felt suspended in time. The drawings rested on the wood, silent witnesses to what had just been said. Gwen's eyes were still wet, but her expression was clear, determined. Cody looked at her with a mix of tenderness and admiration, as if he couldn't believe someone like her had let him in so deeply.
And then, without words, he leaned closer.
Gwen didn't move away.
The kiss was soft at first. Sweet. As if they were recognizing each other again. But then it grew firmer, more certain. No rush. No fear. Just two people who, after everything, allowed themselves to feel.
Cody's hands brushed Gwen's waist. She answered with a caress at his neck, right where the scars began. The air grew warmer. The silence more intimate. The world below could wait.
The kiss lingered.
And what came after… stayed among the branches.
The scene faded like a curtain slowly falling.
In another corner of camp, far from romance and introspection, Chris walked with his shiny boots down the path to the forest clearing. Beside him, Chef carried a shovel, though no one knew exactly why.
In front of them, sprawled on the grass, was the bear's corpse.
Giant.
Furry.
Impressive.
And completely dead.
Chris stopped, crossing his arms. "Well, well… so the kid did it."
Chef snorted. "I don't know how he's still alive. That bear was a destruction machine."
Chris crouched, examining the claws, the fangs, the size. "This looks straight out of an action movie. Are you sure Cody doesn't have some kind of secret training? Like a Canadian ninja?"
"All I know is if that bear had killed him, you'd be canceled. And I'd be cooking for the funeral," Chef said.
Chris stood, brushing off his hands. "Yeah, yeah. I know. It was close. Too close. If Cody had gone, the show would've gone with him. The kid's pure gold now. He's got drama, romance, scars… even fans!"
Chef looked at the corpse. "And what do we do with this?"
Chris smiled. "We bury it. We edit it. And we turn it into legend. 'The day Cody defeated the bear.' Sounds good, doesn't it?"
"Sounds like you should pay him more."
"Sounds like you should shut up and dig."
Chef growled, driving the shovel into the dirt.
Chris walked off, pulling out his phone to record a dramatic shot of the corpse.
"And so, dear viewers… the boy who started tripping over backpacks now has a bear on his record. Who would've thought?"
The camera turned.
The corpse filled the frame.
And Cody's myth… kept growing.