To Be Free (24 page)

During that,
we've found someone else who knows of the pain, understands what
we've been through and still finds something worth fighting for
inside the jumbled mess. That's why, as I kiss down his neck and
the candle threatens to flicker out, I can't feel anything other
than the feeling that this is
right
, that this is what the world
wanted for us. Neither of us expected to fall for one-another; when
we started out, I could barely stand his attitude and he hated my
ceaseless questions.

Yet we did anyways. We fell in
love, despite the pain and hatred and hopelessness.

And that's something I never
want to give up.

• Don’t
  Forget, You’ll Never Be Free
  

SEBASTIAN

The following morning, I wake
up wrapped in a cocoon of warmth given to me by the blanket and,
more than that, Quinn holding me against him. The sun's filtering
in through a crack in the curtains, hitting the bed just shy of my
face, and with a lazy smile I snuggle back against his chest, his
arms wrapped around my waist and holding my back against him. His
breath ghosts my head, moving my hair with every puff as he
silently sleeps on, the smallest hints of a snore enough to let me
know he's still fast asleep.

As my mind wanders, I laugh
lightly, closing my eyes and placing my hands over his clasped on
my stomach. The sound seems to reel him in from his sleep, as he
groggily slips his right arm away to rub his eyes before he snakes
it back around me, holding me close.

Quinn mutters something, a
question, I think, and I quietly ask him to repeat it. Clearing his
throat, he tries again.

“
Something I
should know?” he asks, and with a laugh I shake my head.

“
I was just
thinking about yesterday,” I admit, and he hums in understanding. I
feel him press his lips to the back of my neck, a smile in the
gesture. “You kept your promise, at least.” When he makes a
confused sound at the back of his throat, I clarify. “I'd asked you
to make the last night we shared together something to
remember.”

“
I don't have
any plans to disappear once we cross the border,” he protests, and
I nod.

“
This was the
last night on American grounds, if all goes well,” I counter. “I'm
glad, though, that we're still going to wait a bit. I don't think
I'm ready
quite
yet for that.”

“
Neither am
I, to be honest,” he admits, and I pull the blanket up to my
shoulder when the chill of the morning threatens to break the
peace. “I mean, when we make love together for the first time, I'd
like it to really mean something. For it to be something
special.”

“
What do you
call last night?” I ask, and he scoffs dryly, laughing.

“
Love, mutual
jacking off isn't very romantic.”

I press my elbow to his
stomach, earning a breathless curse as I wiggle out of his hold.
Sitting up so I can look at him, I arch an eyebrow and he returns
the gesture in like, waiting expectantly.

“
You make it
sound so
dirty
,”
I complain, and he laughs as he turns over onto his back, rolling
his eyes. “Anyways, I'm starving. You're making
something.”

He holds his
hands up in defeat, laughing as he swings his feet over the edge of
the bed and fishes for his clothes strewn on the ground there.
Throwing me my sweats so that it hits my face, Quinn laughs at me
again as I toss them back, protesting
do
you seriously think I'm going to wear those
now
, Quinn?

He simply let’s the pants fall
back on the ground, kissing me lightly on my cheek before he walks
out, calling over his shoulder that he'll whip up something while I
make myself decent. I spit a swear that has no venom to his
retreating back, and when he's gone I can't help but press my face
to the pillows, laughing.

Sobering up, I get to my feet
and fish out a fresh pair of pyjama pants and some boxers,
carefully padding my way over to the bathroom after making sure
he's not lurking around to scare me half to death. Safely behind
the door I take a quick shower, dressing again and finally making
my way to the kitchen – following the smell of baking food.

Quinn looks over his shoulder
as I walk in, stirring the hot cocoa he's making over the stove
top, and I walk over to him so I can plant a kiss to his lips,
smiling. He happily returns the gesture, the sound of sizzling
batter filling the silence for a minute or so until we part, little
smiles planted on our lips.

“
Did you
sleep well?” he questions, asking me to continue stirring the milky
concoction while he continues baking the chocolate chip and
blueberry pancakes. I do so, gently whisking the liquid that smells
like Christmas – the little sneak added a pinch of
nutmeg.

“
I did,” I
reply, biting the inside of my cheek to try and fight my smile. Of
course, it doesn't work, and my mind plays back the one night in
the last week and a half where I've slept peacefully, not a
nightmare gracing my dreams. All night, he held me in his arms –
and I felt so safe. “You?”

He nods, flipping the pancake
in the pan as he cooks it a delicious golden brown.

A shiver races up my spine, and
I sigh as my smile fades, my eyes glancing to the cell phone still
sitting on the counter where I left it last night.

The knowledge of what's going
to happen in the next few hours isn't pleasant.

I don't know how he'll take
it.

The silver object buzzes,
vibrating on the counter, and I leave the concoction I'm stirring
behind so I can pick it up, flip it open and press it to my ear.
The smile that'd been gracing Quinn's face has disappeared, and he
looks down at what he's doing as if it's the most interesting thing
in the world.

“
Hello?” I
question, leaning against the counter and trying to bite back my
sigh. I manage, somehow, and the disappointment I feel doesn't leak
into my voice.

“
He'll be
there in about three hours,”
I hear
Melissa inform me over the phone, and I nod even though she can't
see me.
“How are you two holding up?
You're doing well, I hope?”

“
We're fine,
thanks for asking,” I reply, looking to the focus of my affections
from the corner of my eyes. He turns off the element, having
finished making the batch, and stirs the hot cocoa a few more times
before pouring it into two separate mugs. “Thank you, both of
you... for everything.”

“
Anytime,
Sebastian. Don't forget to drop us a line when you make it across.
Take care, okay – and be careful.”

After hanging up, I break the
object as per my instructions and toss it into the trash, looking
to Quinn still standing by the counter, biting his lower lip.
Sighing, I walk up to him and turn him around, offering him a smile
that he returns reluctantly, before hugging him.

For a while we stand there,
holding each other and listening to each other's breathing and
heartbeats. When we pull back we sit down to eat, clearing the mess
afterwards and slipping upstairs to change. We don the Bio suits
beneath our clothes, and after I zip up my slightly-large beige
shirt I wrap a scarf loosely around my neck, knocking lightly on
Quinn's closed door before I slip inside.

He's in the middle of slipping
on a knitwear jacket over his grey shirt, and I walk over to him to
help him button it up, for no other reason than the one being that
I want to be close to him. He allows me to do this, and doesn't
complain when I fix the scarf he's wrapped loosely around his neck,
my hands shaking.

Once I'm done, Eleven takes my
hands and holds them, as if his touch alone will make them stop
shaking. Our eyes meet, layers and layers of upset etched into each
other's features and eyes, and I pull my shaking hands from his so
I can hold his head and press our lips together, unable to voice
the regret I feel at knowing what he's about to go through. Unable
to tell him who their master forger is.

Instead, I let my kiss speak
those words for me – the desperation and helplessness I feel, the
self-hatred at being too weak to tell him this, and the love I hope
he knows will never abate, never leave me no matter what he does.
If he leaves me, I'll wait a thousand years if I have to before I
give it up, if it takes him a thousand years to come back to
me.

I'm whispering all of this
against his mouth, I realize: a constant string of affirmation of
my feelings for him, that I'll always love him and that nothing
could ever hope to rip that away from me. Quinn gently leads me to
the wall, pressing me against it and letting me whisper these words
into his mouth, taking them all without a single protest. His
hair's still a little wet in my grip from the shower he took five
minutes ago, and when we finally pull back for air my hands slip
down his neck, falling limply to his shoulders where I grip the
fabric of his shirt and pull him back one more time, the last
time.

I can't help but cry into this
one, my closed eyes showing me the sight that chills my blood: a
man, our age, stepping out of a sleek black car with tinted black
windows, looking up to the very place we stand in. The dark hair
framing his face, chopped short, and bright blue eyes staring
impassively.

I pull away from the kiss just
as the doorbell rings, swallowing thickly. Quinn glances up and
towards the sound, confused, and I slip away from his embrace
completely as I rub my eyes, wiping all traces of my sadness
away.

“
I'll get
it,” I offer softly, hesitating at the doorway and clinging to the
frame tightly. I don't look over my shoulder to the man, swallowing
thickly. “Take... take your time coming down, love,”
and for the love of God, please don't hold this
against me. Please don't hate me for this.

Every step I take down the
staircase is harder than the last, and when I open the door and
meet him for the first time, I offer a smile that feels genuine –
I've had lots of practice pretending to be okay – but isn't in the
slightest. The man standing there offers me a smile in turn, bowing
his head slightly.

“
You must be
Sebastian,” the man states idly, and I step aside to let him in.
The twenty-two year old I stare at has unforgettable features: a
strong jaw, clear blue eyes and messy black hair. His skin is fair
and he's built strong, and a recent-looking scar runs along his jaw
to his collarbone. When the man steps inside, shrugging off his
leather jacket and draping it over his elbow, I close the door
behind him and lead him towards the dining room. “I was told
there's another man here, as well?”

“
He'll be
down shortly,” I inform him as he follows me, pressing my hands
into the pockets of my cowl-less pullover so that my shaking,
fisted hands are hidden from the world. He takes a seat near the
head of the rectangular table, and I sit at the head of that very
table, biting the inside of my cheek and scratching my
arm.

While we wait, the man takes a
thick legal envelope from his jacket and unfolds it, the yellow
material offering no protest. He opens it, slipping a few papers
out as well as a handful of cards, and sets them into two distinct
piles. During this time, I avoid looking at the man while I also
keep an eye on him as much as I can, the contacts in my eyes
annoying me a bit.

Seven years is a long time, but
it doesn't mean jack shit to the human mind.

Quinn walks in, scratching the
back of his head and offering a greeting to both me and the man,
who nods, his hands pausing as they sort through the papers. The
temporarily green-eyed man comes to a halt to my right, looking at
the man sitting to my left curiously.

“
...have we
met before?” the Californian asks, tilting his head enough for his
temporarily blond hair to cascade around his face. Our guest looks
up, and you can see it cross Quinn's features – instant
recognition. His lips part in a breathless realization, shaking
slightly as he forces the word out. “K-Kenny?”

The longing in his voice makes
my chest ache and I look down to my hands pressed tightly in my
lap, forcing my hands not to shake as I press them between my
thighs. Our guest laughs lightly.

“
It's been a
while, Quinn,” the dark-haired man affirms, and I hear my friend
choke on his words, and I know he turns to look at me
indignantly.

I know, because I've seen this
very scene play out countless times in my dreams and during the
light of day. I also know what follows.

“
Did... did
you know about this, Seb?” he questions, and I nod once as I
swallow thickly, refusing to meet his eyes.

I've also seen countless
results of this meeting, more than half of them so painful to watch
I'd get up in the middle of the night to throw up, long after
Quinn's asleep. I'd sit on the bathroom floor, sobbing silently at
the thought of the man I love leaving me so easily for the one
sitting to my left. At the thought that I'm so selfish that I'd
hoped this day never came, that Recon One would've found us
first.

Seeing it is more painful,
though.

I'd give anything to no longer
see the future. This isn’t a gift in my eyes; it’s a curse.

“
...why?” he
chokes, and I shake my head, unable to voice these thoughts to him.
My fears and the things I've seen since I've started controlling my
ability.

I also keep my head down so I
can hide the fact that the tears I've been fighting back in front
of him have fallen, have broken my will.