A Reason to Stay Pt. 03

this chapter is light on the spicy bits, mostly because Sebastien is getting some long overdue limelight. I promise chapter 4 will be extra spicy to make up for that ;)

note: all chapters have been updated! nothing critical, but hopefully little fixes here and there that make everything flow better.

- Jez -

We're fighting for the first time. A real ohh-you-make-me-so-mad-I-could-kill-you-fight, and I want more than anything for it to stop. But it won't, because neither of us will back down.

"How can you be so pigheaded?!" I shout.

Aed shouts back, "What the fuck did pigs ever do to you Outsiders? That makes no sense!"

"They can EAT us down to our bones!!" I yell.

"What does that have to do with their heads??!" Aed yells louder.

I let loose a savage scream of frustration and hurl a cup at his face. He catches it, of course, with unerring, infuriating ease. All it does is make me angrier and I start looking around for something bigger to throw.

"Stop! Stop throwing things!" Aed demands, setting the cup down and holding his hands up as if his palms alone can stop more domestic projectiles from pelting his way. "Seriously, there's no point in ruining perfectly good dishware."

"I don't give a single flying fuck!" I roar back at him. "Who the fuck cares about a stupid fucking cup when you're going to die and never come back? I hate the council and their stupid fucking agendas and I hate everything about this piece of shit dimension and I hate that you're the only reason I don't hate everything even more and I HATE YOU FOR LEAVING ME ALL ALONE AGAIN YOU GODDAMN BASTARD!!!"

His arms are around me in an instant, holding me tight. He doesn't let go, even as I fight him, even as I cry uncontrollably and my legs go out from under me. We sink to the floor together like this, me choking on huge, loud sobs while he anchors me down, keeping me from spinning out into the atmosphere and burning to dust.

I don't know how long we stay like this, but I can feel the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his chest seeping through my numbness. Then I make the mistake of thinking how I might never feel these things again, and my hyperventilation starts all over.

"It's okay," he hushes through the mad tangle of my hair. "You're okay. I'm here. I'm still here. You're not alone."

I can't stand it. I can't stand how clearly he sees me, how good he is to me, how he always seems to know the right thing to do or say. I waited for months for him to betray me, lie to me, hurt me, leave me without rhyme or reason. But he never did. And here he is, still putting up with the insanity of my fears, loving me in spite of it all.

I can't stand how much I love him back.

But of course, it can't last. It never does. Because the universe is cruel and has decided to deal the one card Aed will never be able to refuse: duty.

When he first breaks the news to me that he has been assigned to combat duty, I refuse to accept it on anyone's terms but mine. I insist that he take me with him. And why not? Why the hell friggin not?? I am dispensable in the eyes of the council, I know things only an Outsider can know, and I can fight. I would be useful, and we would be together. Isn't that a win win?

Somehow, my flawless logic doesn't convince him. He just shakes his head every time I bring it up, a thousand different objections ready at the tip of his tongue. It's almost as if he's prepared them for this very occasion. Practiced them maybe, even, in front of a mirror, like the overachieving asshole he is. If it isn't "you don't have enough practice working with other Mentors" then it's "our mission is too dangerous, I can't risk losing you."

Of course, it's okay for him to die on me, but god forbid he be the one left with all the pain and guilt. That cup isn't the first thing I've thrown at him for being a sanctimonious hypocrite.

Aed squeezes me, burying his nose in my neck. With a slight jolt, I realize I feel wetness on my skin, and the edge of spite in me melts away. I lean my cheek into his hair. "Where you go, I go," I murmur, exhaustion quickly taking over, "end of story." There is only so much crying and arguing either of us can endure; the heartache alone is crippling enough.

For once, he doesn't fight me on this. He just sighs, leaning his weight on me, the heaviness of his limbs a temporary white flag of surrender. We decide to pull the blankets down onto the floor, cocooning ourselves into a sad, worn out heap, too tired to do anything other than sleep.

A spark of hope flickers in my mind right before I doze off. Even though Aed never explicitly agreed to my plan, I take his lack of outright refusal as a good sign. Maybe I'm finally wearing down his will. All I need is to pack the appropriate supplies, square away my affairs with Sebastien, and let Madam Larosa know to water my nasturtiums for me while I'm gone. I'll say I'm going on a research trip, I prepare in my mind, imagining the interaction as I drift off into unconsciousness. Just a quick jaunt around Neon's borders to carry out some boring surveys. Nothing to write home about. Will be back before you know it...

That night, I sleep so deeply that I don't even feel Aed get up at dawn, planting a kiss on my forehead before collecting his things and slipping out through the window. When I wake to find him gone, I feel the cold hand of dread grip my insides. I jump out of bed and rush to the Academy at record speed, only to find his apartment empty and schedule cleared. I try to ask some of the Junior Mentors where Mentor Aedin and his colleagues might have gone, but they just look at me with bemusement, as if the answer should be obvious.

"They've been honored with an important mission south of Neon's borders," a young, pretty Mentor named Joslyn finally explains, taking pity on me. "I'm sure they will regale us with many a tale upon their return. We wish them the highest success!"

My heart falls all the way through the floor. He lied. He lied to me from the very beginning, told me we had at least a week before his deployment. He lied knowing I would never allow him to leave me behind, and that the only way he could stop me from following was to beat me to the door. I am so angry and heartbroken in that moment that my vision goes red. Joslyn asks if I'm okay, but she sounds muted, like we're under water. Not that it matters. I'm already halfway out the door, storming down the halls toward Sebastien's office.

*********************

"Absolutely not," Sebs flat out refuses. "It's too dangerous."

I slam my fist down, rattling all the various data sheets and cylinders filled with holo-pens on his desk. He doesn't even flinch at my outburst. My belligerence has stopped being a novelty ages ago, just as his complete disregard for my emotional needs has grown stale and expected.

"You goddamn hypocrite," I hiss, all hope for diplomacy abandoned. "The two of you, always spewing bullshit about safety this and responsibility that. But you and I both know damned well that if you even caught a whiff of where your mother ran off to, you'd be chasing her in a heartbeat."

Sebastien just gazes at me evenly, grey eyes mild and calm. "My mother is intentionally lost, so pursuing her would be extremely foolish. Besides, even if I did find her, it doesn't change the fact that it was her choice to leave, just like it was for Aed. If we didn't matter enough then to stop them, what makes you think we matter enough now?"

This hits my last nerve. Swearing, I swat one of the pen holders clear across the table, sending it flying into the nearest wall. It just bounces off and rolls to the ground, pens scattering everywhere. Stupid Neonians and their stupid standards of quality. I bring both hands to my head, clutching my hair. I knew it would be a long shot. I knew he would never allow me to go running off after Aed, but I was desperate, and still am. I turn around to face Sebs again, only this time my eyes glitter with pain. I'm not choking or sobbing, just too tired and scared to stop my despair from trickling down my cheeks.

"I won't go on if he doesn't come back," I tell him hoarsely. "I just won't."

Something in my voice finally inspires a flicker of empathy in Sebs. His eyes soften just a smidge as he walks around his desk, and to my surprise he pulls me toward him with a gentle touch. In my stunned confusion, I let him draw me in, his fingers warm against my bare arms and chin grazing the top of my head. I don't think Sebs has ever hugged me before, and the kindness of the gesture reminds me so painfully of Aed that I almost break. But I don't. Instead, I collect myself enough to stiffen and then push him away.

"I need to be alone," is all I mutter before I stomp out of his office. He tries calling after me, saying something about how being alone is the last thing I need, but I block out his voice, barreling down the halls and out into the courtyard with single minded purpose.

In the minutes it takes for me to return home via hover car, my mind is made. I barely manage a polite wave and smile at Madam Larosa as I beeline for the door. My elderly neighbor is out watering her moon flowers by hand, wearing the same, matching mauve slippers and robe as she had on that day Aed and I taunted each other into crossing a dozen different boundaries. The memory sinks daggers into my chest, twisting my insides. I push it as far back as I can, focusing instead on the task before me.

As soon as I step inside my house and shut the door behind me, I burst into action. I pull out bags and clothes and supplies, separating the useful from the frivolous. Halfway through, I remember that I'll need food and water, on top of basic first aid. I dash into my kitchen, digging through my pantry and cupboards for anything with a long expiration date. As convenient as ordering fresh food is in Neon, thanks to the constant presence of hover cars, there are plenty of canned and boxed options as well. All pre-packaged foods are vacuum sealed in solid, airtight containers, not like the cheap commercial stuff back home. I also throw in a couple extra water bottles, which have built in purification filters. Drinking water is readily available everywhere in the city, but beyond Neon's walls I have no idea what to expect, other than maybe a bleak, barren desert. Sebs never did tell me how far that first discporter we used allowed us to travel.

By the time I've packed and repacked at least fifty different combinations, removing and adding items of varying usefulness, night has fallen. The street lights have blinked on, tinting the roads and houses with cool, blue light.

I almost jump out of my skin when my door chimes, followed by a series of quick, polite knocks. Quashing a stab of wild hope that it might possibly be Aed, I grab the nearest heavy object and tap awake the door monitor. The black square lights up to reveal a man with tousled brown hair, his frame tall and lean and sporting a wool sweater vest.

Dammit, it's Sebs.

I can only assume that he has guessed what I might be up to and is here to try and stop me. I set down the heavy vase in my hand, angry but not angry enough to smash it over his head. Not yet, anyway.

When I look around my house, however, to assess just how suspicious I might initially appear, I am overcome with panic. Everything is in disarray, as if a tornado has blown through my kitchen and living room. I squeeze my eyes shut, not even wanting to think about the horrible mess my bedroom is in.

Sebastian's clear, steady voice interrupts my thoughts through the intercom. "Jez, I know you're in there. Please let me in. This is important, I need to talk to you."

Breaking out into a cold sweat, I smash my thumb on the intercom and shout, "Give me a sec!" before spinning around to try and make my intentions less obvious. Realizing there's no way I can do this on my own, I rush over to my laundry closet and voice activate my Friendly Residential Ergonomic Droid, or as I like to call it, Fred.

The compact robot emits a series of beeps as it wakes up from sleep mode, addressing me with the standard greeting of "Hello Miss Jezia, how can I assist you today?"

Frantically, I wave my hands around, indicating the deplorable state of my house, and beg, "Just organize, please, and do it as fast as you can!" Fred beep boops its way out of the laundry closet and immediately starts setting things aright.

Meanwhile, Sebastien's voice cuts through for a second time on the intercom. "Jez, please, I...I know we didn't end things on good terms today, but this is urgent." I glance over to see that he's shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly not his usual, patient self, which is a new look for him and a bad sign for me. Desperate for a plausible excuse, I tap the screen again and blurt out, "For fuck's sake Sebs give me a moment, I'm naked!"

I spare a few seconds to witness him go rigid, pale skin flushing with embarrassment. Then I'm racing down the hall and stripping off all my clothes. Fred follows behind, diligently picking them up after me before throwing them into the washing machine. Fully nude, I launch myself into the guest shower for a quick rinse, then jump out and wrap a towel around myself.

I rush back into the living room to find everything is amazingly almost normal, minus maybe a few pillows and boxes of food still out of place. Taking a deep breath, I run my fingers through my short, wet hair, square my shoulders, and head for the front door. By the time I open it to face a very flustered looking Sebastien, Fred has already nudged the last of my couch pillows into place and is headed towards the stairs, presumably to put my room to rights next. Its little metal, rolling legs disappear as its flight system takes over, making quick work of the steps.

I'm still dripping water and clutching the towel to my chest when I ask, "What the hell do you want, Sebs?"

Blinking, Sebastien straightens and clears his throat. "This is a, um, sensitive subject. May I come inside to speak privately?" I can tell that he's trying his best not to look anywhere below my chin, and for some reason his awkwardness makes me feel a little less peeved. I take a step back and open the door wider, allowing him to duck quickly inside.

Other than the subtle thumping and whirring upstairs, my house is uncomfortably quiet. I stand there, holding the towel tight against me while Sebs looks around at my furnishings, feigning polite interest. I'm surprised at how well he blends in with the dusty, muted lavenders and sages of my decor. The soft beige of his vest, paired alongside finely cut features and an erudite posture, makes him look as if he could be a painting in my living room.

"I apologize for catching you at a bad time," he says, breaking the silence. "I didn't know you had company."

I'm confused at first, until I remember Fred upstairs causing a minor ruckus. It's my turn to redden as I stammer, "N-no! It's not like that...I don't--it's my cleaning bot, Fred. It's working upstairs."

Sebs raises an eyebrow at me. "Is it normal for your bot to be cleaning at midnight?"

I stare back at him, raising my chin with as much bravado as I can muster whilst wearing nothing but a towel. "It is," I lie.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, mutual suspicion piling sky high. And then he seems to remember I'm still mostly naked and breaks away first. "You're, um, welcome to get dressed before we discuss things," he suggests, the tips of his ears turning pink. "I can wait here."

Huffing, I saunter past him, eager to be clothed again. It's unnerving, being this vulnerable around him. "How gracious of you, Mr. Lyon, I will do just that."

Shaking his head at my impudence, Sebs sits down on one of my velvet couches, tapping his knee as I disappear upstairs. Once I reach the top, I am met by Fred, who happily reports that it has finished my organization request. "Is there anything else I can do for you today, Miss Jezia?" it asks in its tinny, automated voice.

I think for a second and reply, "Please keep our guest downstairs entertained. I'll be down in a moment."

Fred emits a cheerful set of beeping tones. "As you wish, Miss Jezia." And then it's tucking its legs in again to float down the stairs, its flight system nearly identical to that of Neon's hover cars. I can't help but grin as I hear Fred greet Sebs before launching into a series of AI-generated jokes. I'm told that the robots of Neon are allowed a tiny slice of algorithmic freedom, just enough to make them occasionally amusing. Otherwise, each one is manufactured with fail safes embedded in their code to keep them from developing too much sentience.

That being said, I still make sure to treat Fred with basic courtesy and respect. I've watched way too many AI rebellion movies in my dimension to mess around with Murphy's Law.

Back in my bedroom, I breathe a sigh of relief. Fred has done an excellent job of undoing my earlier chaos. It even carefully tucked away the various bags of supplies I packed, lining them neatly within my closet. I make quick work of dressing, slipping into a set of custom made underarmour, then throw my pajamas on top. I make sure to button my sleeping shirt all the way, hiding the mesh fabric underneath. As I stuff my feet into fluffy slippers, I try not to think about how the underarmour was a gift from Aed to commemorate six months together. "To make up for a fraction of all the bruises and sore muscles I've caused you," he had explained with a devious smile.

I feel a lump form in my throat, but I push it down and open my door.

As I come back down the stairs, I catch the tail end of Fred's latest joke. Sebs looks more than a little exasperated, but he's a good sport and sighs, "I don't know, Fred, what do you call a robot pirate?"

Fred waits a few seconds to add anticipation before its delivery. Then it answers, "A row-bot! A-hah-hah-hah..."

When Sebs finally notices my return, his relief is palpable. "Thank the gods," he breathes, "please, I appreciate the hospitality, Fred, but I must speak with Miss Jezia now."

"You are most welcome," Fred automates. "I am glad you liked my jokes." It then looks to me for further instruction. I give it permission to go to sleep, prompting it to whir around and send itself back into the laundry closet to recharge.

Out in the living room, I settle myself into an armchair opposite of Sebs, the polished surface of my marble coffee table separating us. I sink back into the cushions, trying my best not to look as nervous as I feel. Across from me, it seems Professor Lyon is faring no better, adjusting himself and brushing invisible dust off of his grey slacks restlessly. His long legs barely fit between the couch and the table, and I find my gaze lingering on the way the fabric bunches interestingly as he rests his elbows on his thighs, white sleeves rolled halfway and hands clasped in the middle. His arms and legs possess a surprising amount of definition. Not quite cut the way Aed is, but lean and toned nonetheless. It makes me wonder what he does in his spare time. I'm a bit ashamed that I don't immediately know; all these years and I've invested so little in understanding my inter-dimensional host, wrapped up as I've been in my own misery and affairs.

"Alright," I exhale, pulling my attention back to matters at hand, "let's get this over with. What did you want to talk about?"

Sebs clears his throat, tugging at his collar to loosen the top button. The longer he takes, the more nauseating the anxiety in my stomach becomes. I feel the violent urge to choke him for keeping me in suspense. In the end, I decide not to, if only because he still needs his vocal chords to spill the beans.