A Reason to Stay Pt. 03

As we walk on, I notice that even the slightest breeze blows dust in our path, quickly obscuring any marks or footprints we make. "Let's hope we get there before it's dark," I say to Sebs. "I don't like our odds of having to make camp and continue tomorrow. Too many things could go wrong."

"I agree," he responds pleasantly. "According to the map and the approximate pace we've been going, we should arrive at the discporter in roughly one hour and forty two minutes."

I decline to ask him how exactly he managed to calculate that. I just assume his explanation would make my head hurt. Still, one hour and forty two minutes is a long ass time. Realizing this is as good an opportunity as any to answer some burning, long-overdue questions, I decide to shoot my shot.

"So, how exactly do you know Aed?"

Sebs gives me an amused look. "I was wondering when you'd ask that. I'm surprised it took you this long."

It peeves me that I can't ever seem to catch him off guard. Though it helps, I note, if I'm wearing nothing but a towel.

Taking the hint from my sour expression, he gives in easily enough. "I've known Aed since we were children. He's always wanted to be a Mentor, and I've always wanted to be a Scholar. Some might even say we were best friends. For a while, anyway."

Hearing this, I nearly stop dead in my tracks, but the very real chance of getting lost in this sterile nightmare keeps me moving.

Sebs laughs openly at my bewilderment. "Is it that hard to imagine?"

I choke back my initial shock. "Yeah, it kind of is. He never--I mean in all this time that we..."

It's in this moment that I realize I never actually told Sebastien the true nature of my relationship with Aed. Yes, he has witnessed my desperation and agreed to help me with my harebrained scheme. But a full, unfiltered admission? With all the juicy details in between? Absolutely not. The thought alone makes my face burn hot enough to fry an egg.

"My turn," Sebs interrupts, as mild-mannered as ever. "How long did you know you were in love with him?"

Goddammit it's like this asshole can read my mind.

"Not long at all," I answer truthfully, unable to think of a way to circumvent his question. "I thought we hated each other's guts."

"Then what changed?"

"Ah-ah. That's a second question, it's my turn now. Why did you stop being friends?"

Sebs looks mildly annoyed but he takes it in stride. I know Aed would have forfeited this ridiculous game of twenty one questions ages ago, but when Sebs wants to know something, he's like a dog with a bone. So long as I have information he desires, he will keep playing.

"The official reason is that our ambitions put us on divergent paths," he answers, reluctantly but honestly. "We grew apart, as childhood friends often do. Different interests, different priorities."

"And the unofficial version?"

I catch the crooked smile on Sebastien's face, and I curse. Of course he'd be a stickler for rules, not to mention calculating enough to keep score. "What changed is that we fucked, alright?" I sigh in irritation. "Completely out of the blue, never saw it coming."

"That's a lie," he somehow intimates. "I thought we were supposed to be only telling truths. That's how the game works, isn't it?"

Groaning, I throw my hands up in surrender. "Okay! Fine. It wasn't completely out of the blue. We...messed around with each other before, but I swear I never thought it would get that far. That he would...want me. As badly as I wanted him. There, satisfied?"

Sebs stares straight ahead, his face a closed book. I can almost hear the sound of gears turning in his head.

"So you knew you wanted him before you knew you loved him?"

The answer seems so obvious that I blurt out, "Well, yeah, I mean...who doesn't want him? He's insanely hot. Don't tell him I said that though cause it'll go straight to his head." I blink. "Hey wait a second, that was two questions! It's definitely your turn now."

My partner in crime has a faraway look on his face. "Fair enough," he exhales. "The unofficial version is that my family has always been obsessed with legacy. In their eyes, a future with Aed is no future at all. The Lyon bloodline would end with me, and any attempt to circumvent creating a child naturally would be seen as illegitimate."

Good god, every time I think he can't surprise me more, he pulls the rug out from under me all over again. "So this whole time..." I mutter in disbelief, grip tightening on the bags strapped to my shoulder. "You've been in love with him this whole time?"

"Gods, no," he laughs, which only leaves me even more confused. "I mean, sometimes I miss the fun we had. There were a lot of things we explored for the first time together. We were young and foolish, raging with hormones and idealism. But no, our infatuation died a long time ago. Just youth and all of its usual follies."

My mind is slogging through this new information at the speed of molasses. "So what you're saying...is that...you would still fuck him?" I ask with painful slowness. There's no judgment in my voice, only total discombobulation.

Sebs considers this for a moment. "I wouldn't be opposed," he replies ambiguously before sliding me a look. "But I'm sure you would."

I open and close my mouth several times without uttering a sound. It's weird to even imagine the two of them in the same bed, but once I do, I can't stop. Their contrasting natures, so different yet so undeniably masculine, would blend like woody, smoky cologne in a tangle of bedsheets. They'd be all muscle and sinew. Long limbs intertwined, pale skin against dark as they writhe in pleasure. And then I do what I always do: ignore the rules. I dare to add myself into this fictitious mix. Coaxing, stroking, wedged between their broad, hard planes as I'm filled in more ways than one...

By the time I realize how lost I'd gotten in my own fantasy, it's too late. My heart is beating rabbit quick and my breathing has gone erratic. We've both stopped walking, and Sebastien is staring at me with such naked heat in his storm grey eyes that I almost don't recognize him anymore.

"I think I'm starting to understand Aed's obsession with you," he breathes. I don't know when he got so close to me, but suddenly he's near enough that I can feel his warmth on my skin, his eyelashes casting wispy shadows over the smooth, noble curve of his cheekbones. It's unfair how beautiful he is. So effortless, and so squandered, shut behind doors all day doing stuffy old research.

Our lips are nearly touching, his fawn curls meshing with my jet black locks, when I happen to look past his shoulder and spot Fred. It's jammed into something and beeping for help, no longer moving forward.

"Shit!" I swear, grabbing Sebs by his arms and spinning him around. "Fred!"

Neither of us needs further prompting. We break into a full sprint, nearly dropping our bags in the process. Our long legs close the distance in a matter of seconds, but that doesn't stop my heart from hammering in my chest as I cause a small dust storm from sliding to Fred's side as if it's home plate. I fan away the dust, frantically assessing the situation.

"This side of the rock is flat," I pant a moment later to Sebs, who is gingerly pulling out the map again. "I don't think Fred changed direction."

Of course, our mad dash to rescue Fred destroyed whatever trail it did manage to leave. But when Sebs shows me where we are on the map, we fall silent for a few seconds, then burst out laughing in relief. There's just a tiny bit of text, almost imperceivable, scribbled into the empty space where his finger is pointing: "Rock."

Once we recollect ourselves, Sebs and I work together to maneuver Fred around the melon-sized rock and angle him properly. In a matter of minutes, the custodial bot is rolling forward again, and we gladly follow suit.

Having learned our lesson, we spend the next half hour in complete silence. As the afternoon temperature rises, I take off my sweater and tie it to my waist, though Sebs seems unbothered in his wooliness. I'm still reeling from everything I learned and use this as an opportunity to process. There are more layers to this story between Sebs and Aed than I had thought possible. The depth of their friendship, the scope of their romance...

...and the nearness with which Sebastien's lips sought mine.

Oh, I'd be telling a bald faced lie if I said I've never crushed on Sebs. It was impossible not to, in the beginning. I knew literally no one else in this dimension and clung to him like my life depended on it. And it did, in many ways.

Sebs hasn't been affectionately nicknamed Prince Sebastien by giggling Academy students for no reason. His perfect manners and gentle baritone, along with genetics that anyone with eyeballs would envy, elicit more than a few, hopeless sighs whenever he walks by. Plus, he's brilliant, his mind a rarity in it of itself. And he's rich. Like crazy, generationally rich.

For me, however, it was the kindness that undid me first. It seemed like he was always thinking of me, surprising me with thoughtful gifts, finding any excuse to come by and drop off coffee or peach pie. He always asked how I was doing, if I was comfortable, happy, sleeping well, that sort of thing. I think I was convinced at some point that I was in love with him.

But then I learned the morbid truth of my predecessors, and suddenly the magic was lost. I started to see the practicality behind his attentiveness, as well as the intentional distance everyone else kept from me.

Like Sebs said, infatuation and youth and folly. It didn't take long for me to become the local misanthrope, pushing back when I felt provoked and completely shutting Sebs out. I stopped answering the door when he came by, letting the coffee and pies rot on my porch. Even though I never spoke of it, I had felt so hurt, so betrayed. I saw myself as a caged animal, and no matter how gilded my prison was, it was a prison nonetheless.

Infatuation, youth, folly.

But now, now of all times and places, he chooses to genuinely reciprocate. Had he shown any sign of romantic interest before, I would have written it off as another ploy to bribe me into complacency. The fact that he's revealing his humanity while we're wandering around a desolate hellscape, in the midst of chasing down my lover no less, makes it hard to doubt his sincerity. Too little too late, I try to convince myself, fixing an image of Aed in my mind. Yet, every time I do, Sebs bleeds into the picture, fair, elegant hands trailing across Aed's brawny chest, lips planting kisses along his neck. Even as an imaginary bystander, I find myself afraid of how badly it turns me on. The thought of watching them fuck makes me hot all over and I can feel the heat already building between my legs.

I know I'm supposed to feel jealous. I also know that, back in my world, only people like polyamorists, Fundamentalist Mormons, and cult leaders find multiple partners socially acceptable. But I can't shake how bizarrely Sebs fits into all of this. I don't know how to explain it, but the possessiveness and knee jerk animosity I usually feel when someone so much as looks at Aed suggestively just isn't there when it comes to Sebs. Or, at least, not the imaginary version of him in my head. I don't really know how I would react, should this fantasy somehow become real.

Despite not having agreed on any definitive parameters, Aed and I have been intensely exclusive. We've talked about our pasts, preferences, and all the usual things couples discuss over time, but there never seemed to be a need for establishing rules. We wanted to be with each other so thoroughly, so completely, all of the time, that messing around with other people simply held no appeal. It's like getting to choose between a Michelin star restaurant and chicken nuggets every single day. I enjoy chicken nuggets as much as the next person, but the only way I'd eat them over a gourmet feast is if the feast was somehow no longer an option.

This thought puts me on a rather unpleasant track. Could the same be said of Aed? If I'm already over here, tempted by the perfect cupid's bow of Seb's lips, what must it be like for him? His colleagues, while good humored and well wishing enough, have expressed their disgruntlement to him on more than one occasion. It doesn't help that he hasn't told them the truth. He's led them to believe he's just taking some time for himself. They have no idea I play any role in his life other than being a constant thorn in his side. Even so, I don't blame them; if I had been given a taste of Aed and then was denied more afterwards, indefinitely, I'd be grumpy too. And now, he's out there with the best of the best, every one of them sharing sexual history, doing god knows what while danger lurks around every corner. I try to decide if I'd be angry with him, should we reunite and I find he's been tumbling around with his fellow Mentors again. I want to be. I really, really want to be. But for some reason, I find myself unsure. Who am I to deny him any amount of pleasure, especially if it might be his last?

Great. I've cornered myself into misery again. Beside me, Sebs seems to notice that something is off. "We should take a quick break," he suggests. "There's still about an hour left to go, and you look dehydrated."

What a tactful way to say that I look depressed as fuck. Nodding listlessly, I tell Fred to pause its task. Once the bot is good and settled, Sebs and I drop our bags and pull out our water bottles. He also extracts a bag of nutritional jerky and offers me one, which I accept gratefully. The stuff is chewy and a weird shade of purple, but it tastes good enough, meant to quickly fill one's belly and give a boost of energy. Feeling the need to eat my feelings, I bust open a canister of preserved peaches as well. It was a last minute addition to my bag after Sebs had agreed to come with me.

As we sit there chewing and sipping, sharing the peaches, Sebs clears his throat and starts to speak. I really, really hope he isn't planning on revisiting how we almost kissed.

"Jez...I know this has been difficult for you," he begins cautiously. "I just...I want you to know that I'm not...that I'd never..." He fiddles with the bag of jerky in his hands, wrestling with his words. "You know that I care about you, right?"

His words are a little too effective at luring me from my gloom, which somehow makes me moodier. "Yeah," I grumble. "You care about me, the same way a person can care about a dog, or a houseplant, or an important dissertation." He opens his mouth to object but I cut him off, the pettiness in me ugly and horrible when I let it feed on my pain. "Which I'm not offended by, you know. Not in the slightest. In fact, I enjoy being treated like a bird in a fancy cage, all kinds of distractions shoved in my face to keep me from wanting to be outside. Where I belong. You know, with other birds."

The look of anguish on his face almost makes me regret my words, but once I'm on this destructive path it's nearly impossible for me to stop. "Jez," he sighs, "I know how hard it must have been for you all this time. Being ripped away from your home, being trapped here--"

I can't stand the empathy in his voice. Why? Why now of all times? I crawled Shawshank style through miles and miles of depression, isolation, and betrayal to reach some semblance of stability, only for him--for them both--to dash it all to pieces in a day. I hate him and Aed so acutely in that moment that I wish I could maul them to pieces. Distantly, I'm aware that my face is wet again, and suddenly I hate myself, too. I hate that I give a fuck, that I always have. That no matter how far I think I've come and how jaded I've grown, either one of these idiots could undo me with nothing more than a handful of words.

"No, you can't," I hiss, cutting him off mid sentence. My voice trembles, echoing strangely in this barren wasteland. "You can't possibly know how I feel, how any of us have felt! You've lived here your whole life, always loved and always popular, with nothing you could possibly want that money can't buy. You and Aed both, with your fancy careers and fancy titles. Everywhere you go, you know you belong, that people want to be near you and talk to you and buy you lunch."

I get right up into his face, a hideous combination of tears and snot and bitter resentment. He flinches just a hair, and I feel a sick thrill of satisfaction in my gut. "I am a leper, Sebs. Do you know how that feels? To walk around and no one will even look at you, acknowledge that you exist? I feel like a goddamned ghost most days. Like it wouldn't even matter if I live or die."

Snarling, I throw down the can of peaches in my hand and kick it with all my strength. It goes sailing into the air, peach juice and slices flying everywhere.

"And then this mother fucker thinks he can just abandon me?!" I shout. "I think fucking not!!"

Seeing a stray peach near my foot, I bring up my boot and smash it repeatedly under my heel, grinding it into the ground, imagining it's Aed's face. My shouts emphasize each stomp with staccato fury. "I. WILL. KILL. HIM. FOR. FUCKING. LEAVING. ME!!!"

The demolished slice of peach absorbs the last of my anger. Utterly spent, I fall to my knees, sobbing until I'm blind with tears, not caring what happens to me next. I vaguely register that someone is pulling me back, and then I'm being enveloped in firm arms and the scratchy texture of wool. Sebs is saying something to me, a litany of comforting words that I feel more than I hear, his voice reverberating through his chest. He smells like a bookstore on a warm, sunny day, with a trace of fresh linen and peaches. I focus on these sensations, letting them soothe me. I've had more meltdowns this week than in the last three years combined. It fills me with shame, throwing tantrums like a toddler, but Sebastien's solid presence holds back the tides of self loathing. I let myself be held like a useless baby. It's all I can do in the face of absolute devastation.

It hurts. It hurts so much. Every time I think I might be past the hurt, my pain is rudely reawakened. It hurts that Aed is gone. It hurts that Sebs is the one comforting me and not him. It even hurts that I don't entirely dislike the way he is comforting me. I am so scared and confused and intrigued all at once. I don't know what to do, what I'm supposed to feel or how to react. It's like I'm being pulled in every direction at the same time, stretching wider and wider, until every inch of me is so taut I can no longer move.

I just want to go home.

The thought rises like bread in my mind, golden and fragrant, enticing me with its wholesome simplicity. I don't even know for sure if it's one, specific home I long for. I just know I'm tired of feeling lost. Of having certainty one day and then watching it get ripped from me the next.

Eventually, my sobbing eases and I grow still. Sebs is holding me like I'm a rag doll, his knees bent on either side of my boneless limbs and his arms wrapped snugly around my shoulders. I sag against him, my shuddering breaths slowly evening out. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen...my eyes are closed as I count my breaths in my head. It's the only exercise I've learned that helps me feel my feelings. I shut out any extra thoughts, barring more toxic, hurtful narratives from dragging me down, and concentrate on the present. I track the wild pattering of my heart as it starts to even out, the flush of heat blistering on my neck from being so over-stimulated. I wait and observe, until everything is more or less normal again, and I am left with a singular thought: I hate feeling alone.

Whole minutes go by like this. I only break from my quiet trance when Sebs offers me something soggy. I open my eyes and look down, realizing it's a small towel he has thoughtfully poured water into. I accept it and press the cool rag to my face, the relief instant and welcome.