THIRTY

The tears were overflowing by the time he was halfway through his sandwich; they streamed down his cheeks in waves. Zach didn’t look up; his shoulders shuddered. Embarrassment burned in his chest, but he couldn’t stop. Every last thing that had burdened his heart poured out through those tears.

He was weak.

He was hungry.

He was exhausted.

He was the son of a criminal.

He could do nothing but swallow the sandwich that was laced with his tears. He couldn’t take everything any more. It was too much, too crushing on his heart, mind, and soul. But did his breakdown have to be here? Now? And in front of him?

Zach finished his sandwich. Hot tears streamed endlessly. His head remained ducked; his clenched hands rested on the countertop. His shoulders shook; the sobs increased; shame intensified.

Something slid into his sight: a box of tissues. Zach jerked his chin to the side, shaking his head. He didn’t trust his voice. The box entered his line of sight again. He shook his head more violently, his shoulders shuddering with each movement.

“Come on, kid, they’re just tissues. You’re a wreck. I haven’t laced them with arsenic, if that’s your worry.”

Zach let out a sobbing half laugh. No. That was the last of his concerns right now. He pulled out a tissue, then another. And another. He went through more than he could count. The tears didn’t end. Nothing stopped. It wouldn’t stop. When was it going to stop?!

Zach sucked in his breath, tensing, as hands clasped his shoulders. With light, yet indomitable force, Hawke maneuvered him to the living room. Zach let him. Those hands gently pushed him down to sit on the sofa. A moment later, the box of tissues were placed in Zach’s limp hands.

If he looked up, what expression would be on the man’s face? Would it be a sneer? A look of pity? Perhaps one of confusion? Each one meant something different and Zach didn’t have the energy nor the courage to decipher them.

Tick. Tick. The clock created a rhythm in his mind. Zach sat there on the sofa, creating a new pile of used tissues at his side. The fridge door opened. It closed. A cabinet snapped open; something rustled inside; it snapped shut.

Only the sound of the clock remained.

Something cool lightly tapped Zach on the cheek. He sucked in his breath, flinching. He glanced up. Hawke held out a glass of lemonade.

Zach accepted it.

It was cool and refreshing, easing the heat in his face. Zach breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and trying to calm down. Something touched his face again, but this time it was freezing. He let out a tiny yelp of shock, jerking his head back and looking up.

The man handed him an ice cream bar. Zach took it, surprised. Hawke’s expression was impassive, not even a glimpse of amusement. The man was neither sneering, nor pitying, nor confused – but an expression of understanding and knowledge lighted his eyes, as if he’d known Zach for years and had seen such episodes before.

“Eat these, too,” said Hawke, dropping two packets of fruit snacks onto Zach’s lap.

Lemonade, ice cream, and fruit snacks?

“What’s this for—”

“Just eat everything,” said Hawke, his mouth lifting upward. “Then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t argue. Hawke sat down in the arm chair with an ice cream bar of his own. Zach hadn’t finished the lemonade, so he downed it quickly and set it onto the coffee table. He set to work on the ice cream bar, quite enjoying the man’s choice of a vanilla chocolate bar with almonds.

Why?

The question burned inside his mind as he ate under the pleasant silence. With each passing moment, the torrent of his emotions began to calm further, until they settled altogether.

He didn’t understand this – this kindness. It was foreign to him. Yet, he knew people usually were pretty decent when a distraught teenager had an emotional breakdown in their living rooms.

Everything Falcon did and everything Hawke did were in a constant dichotomy. It was downright confusing. Zach didn’t understand this man. Humans were complex, yes. Humans did terrible things in the name of something they believed in. People rarely imagined themselves to be the villains in the stories of others. In their own eyes, they were always the heroes.

Who do I trust?

What can I trust?

Zach polished off the ice cream bar, sticking the trash back into its packaging. He wiped his face, blew his nose, and shoved the used tissues inside the packaging. He started on the fruit snacks, noticing a change in his control. His emotions had simmered down. Zach let out a deep, cleansing breath.

The tears were gone now.

In their place was now pure mortification.

I lost it! I actually lost it inside Falcon’s frickin’ kitchen!

Zach internally screamed.

Hawke put his ice cream stick inside the packaging and tossed it onto the coffee table. Zach blinked. Hawke leaned back in his arm chair, crossing his legs.

“Are you on any medication?” asked Hawke.

I’m sorry, what?

Zach shook his head, unsettled by the question.

“So, you’re not diabetic?”

“No,” said Zach with a frown. “Why?”

Hawke sighed. His eyes glanced to the side slightly, a faraway light entering there. For a moment, the man didn’t answer. Zach didn’t push him. He watched, observing the subtle movement in the man’s jaw, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the slow heavy blink of his eyes.

“Abby would be disappointed,” whispered Hawke.

Zach stiffened, his eyes growing wide. A wave of horror flooded through his chest and into his throat, cutting off his air. Before he could retort, before he could say a word, Hawke let out another sigh. There was a light smile on his face.

“She never wanted to pass on something like blood sugar problems onto her kid,” said Hawke, looking back at him. His voice was smooth with reverence. “It always messed with her daily life. She didn’t learn quite how to control it until a bit later, but…”

Zach deflated.

“At first,” whispered Hawke. “She had a few breakdowns that came out of nowhere. Scared the hell outta me, first time I witnessed one.”

Zach let out a breathy laugh.

“After the third one, I figured out the pattern,” said Hawke with a grin. “I started keeping all sorts of candy and fruits snacks on me. If I even saw a hint of a sign she was losing it, I’d force sweets on her. She swore I was trying to make her fat.”

The next soft laugh tasted bittersweet on Zach’s tongue.

“Things got better as she learned how to deal with it,” said Hawke; the light in his eyes faded. “She always disliked the lack of control.”

“What helped?” whispered Zach.

“Well, she liked to overwork herself a lot,” said Hawke, giving him a look. “I suspect that’s where you got it. She’d forget to take care of herself. A hearty meal and a good night’s sleep would always do wonders for her.”

Mom would overwork herself?

“I suppose the real question is: are you doing the same thing?”

Zach swallowed, averting his eyes.

“Have you been getting enough sleep at night? Not staying up late playing video games or watching TV?”

Something twisted inside Zach’s chest. His hands clenched in his lap. He wasn’t a normal teenager. Zach would’ve loved if that was his problem. It was an easy fix.

“All right, what about your eating habits?” asked Hawke. “You kids don’t just eat junk food, do you?”

Was this man purposely being obtuse? If Falcon knew the names of those killed in the hospitals he blew up, then he had to know Units weren’t paid very well.

Junk food?

That was a laugh.

Cheap food made out of terrible ingredients? Yes, absolutely. They were lucky to have Hikaru, though. She always cooked good meals for them, no matter how little they had. Together, they did their best to buy food that was good for them, but they couldn’t always afford everything they needed.

“Look, Zach,” said Hawke, leaning forward in his armchair. He rested his elbows onto his knees. “Your lack of sleep and poor eating habits are going to affect you. It looks like you’ve inherited Abby’s low blood sugar issues, so you’re going to have to take better care of yourself.”

His voice grated the nerves. Every word he said felt like pins pricking his flesh.

“You think it’s that easy, do you?” whispered Zach, fury boiling beneath the surface of his tone. “So simple. Get enough sleep. Eat the right food.”

“Well… it is,” said Hawke, sounding confused.

“It’s not.”

“I don’t—”

“Did you even think for a second,” snarled Zach, “about why maybe I can’t sleep at night? Did you think about it for more than a second? If you’re supposed to know everything, then why don’t you know the reason why I haven’t been eating?”

Hawke’s eyes widened. “Zach,” he murmured, his brows furrowing. “I—”

“It’s you,” hissed Zach. “You’re the reason why I can’t sleep at night. I keep thinking about what you’re going to do next to my city. So, I stop eating. It gets worse. I can’t sleep even more. When I finally do sleep, you’re in my nightmares.”

There was a sharp intake of breath.

“And just so you’re aware, we can’t afford junk food,” snapped Zach. “We can’t afford healthy food either. We do our best with what the government gives us. There’s nothing more we can do.”

He stood up, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” said Zach shortly. “I gotta go.”

“Wait,” said Hawke, putting up his hands and standing as well. “You just got here.”

Zach shook his head. “I need to go home,” he said, his voice wavering. “It’s a school night. I… I—”

“Please, just a little longer,” said Hawke softly.

He looked away; Zach closed his eyes, drawing a hand to his face and dragging it down.

“Why am I even here?” whispered Zach. “Why is this so important to you? Why do you care?”

He looked into the man’s face. Those crystal blue eyes flared with light and power, piercing Zach’s soul.

“You’re our son,” whispered Hawke. “You’re Abby’s son. You are… my son.” There was a long pause. The man’s chest heaved once. “If I’d known… things would’ve been different for you.”

“How?” breathed Zach.

“I would’ve raised you.”

Mixed feelings whirled inside his heart. Life would’ve been very different if that had been the case. For a moment, he couldn’t stop himself from imagining such a possibility, such a path his life could’ve traveled along.

A rock settled into his stomach. If he had lived with this man – perhaps from the age of six – he would’ve been part of the Falcon issue. What would his path have been like? Would he be like this man, stand at his side, and watch hundreds of people die before his very eyes?

“Raised me?” said Zach softly, glancing up at the man. A firm light filled his eyes. “Raised me into what?”

A criminal?

A terrorist?

A murderer?

“Into a man,” whispered Hawke, his words gentle. “One with a constant father in his life.”

Those words echoed in his head.

“You would not have lived the life of an orphan.”

Gilded words.

Yet covered in thorns.

That path had the song of a siren. It sounded nice. It sounded lovely. But the grass on the other side was always greener. That life might’ve been easier, but would Zach have the same morals in his heart? That life might’ve been safer, but he wouldn’t have been the leader of Unit Twelve. That meant he would’ve never met Hikaru.

Or Drake.

Or Sevati.

Or Brielle.

Or Jacob.

An easier, safer life was not worth giving them up.

To be continued

TWENTY-NINE

The scent of sulfur from the industrial side of Templeton Hills was strong tonight. The evening bustled with life. Zach was one with the crowd, another face in a sea of people. He went unnoticed. No one could know the truth.

He tried to take his time. His steps were slow, agonizingly so. But all too soon, Zach was standing in front of the home of Falcon. For a number of minutes, he didn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to lift his foot for one more step – there were only three left.

Zach dropped his face into his hands.

What the hell am I doing?

He put a hand on the railing. It was freezing. He gripped it tighter. Zach walked up the stairs. He lifted a hand to knock, when the door swung open. He sucked in his breath, his heart jumping into his throat. He stumbled a step back; his hand clamped the fabric on his chest. His heart thumped wildly.

Falcon stood in the doorway.

No… Not Falcon.

Hawke.

The man was wearing normal, everyday clothes: dark classic style jeans, a black belt with a silver buckle, and a light blue pinstripe collared shirt with a dark grey suit vest. He was wearing a tie with reminiscent wings from the Falcon suit.

“How did you kn—”

“Cameras.”

Huh. Should’ve known. That made the night before a lot more sense, then. Actually, scratch that: nothing about the night before made sense – absolutely nothing, including the whole ‘I am your biological father’ nonsense, crap, idiocy stuff. Ugh.

A wave of nervousness crashed like a tsunami over his senses.

What were they gonna do? Talk over tea?

“Are you going to stand out in the cold all night or are you going to come inside?” asked Hawke with a light smirk on his lips. He motioned inside. “Come on, it’s freezing.”

He was so welcoming. It was annoying. How dare Hawke have the personality of a teddy bear. He’s Falcon, dammit!

His palms grew damp with sweat. Zach strode inside, trying to maintain the last ounce of his self control. Breathe. Just breathe. The door closed behind him. He could feel the man’s presence at his side. A hand rested onto his shoulder. Zach stiffened.

“Take off your shoes.”

“Right,” murmured Zach.

He rolled his shoulder. The hand withdrew. He stood still, refusing to look up at the man. There was a low exhale of breath. Hawke walked down the hallway and disappeared from sight.

Something strange flooded through Zach’s chest. He rolled his shoulder again, trying to get rid of the lingering feeling. It’d been a nonthreatening touch, casual and gentle. He inhaled deeply. This was bad. That had been too familiar. No adult since his parents had shown him something like that.

Such simple, easy familiarity with adults had long died with them.

Zach pulled his sneakers off, leaving his socks on. He loitered in the hallway, unable to bring himself away from staring at the paintings again. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t face that man.

“Mom,” murmured Zach, gazing at her name. “Tell me what I should do.“

But no answer came.

Instead, her handiwork was all he had of her. His mother had touched these canvases. Abigail had taken paint and had carefully brushed the canvas with her thoughts and imagination. Every stroke had been hers. She had existed. She had lived, loved, and breathed.

Zach had only seen her finish one painting. It was a miracle he still had it in his possession.

It wasn’t right.

Hawke or Falcon – or whoever this man was – he didn’t deserve these paintings.

Were there more?

If so, there wasn’t anything more Zach wanted to do than to see them, to touch them, to feel the long past essence of his mother.

Sorrow loomed over him. Zach gritted his teeth, battling against the torrent of emotions; they threatened to overpower his control. He couldn’t take it any longer. He strode out of the hallway and into the living room. Hawke stood in the kitchen with his back towards Zach.

The last time Zach had been here, he’d been too anxious to notice everything. The décor of the large room was bright and clean. The kitchen had white cabinets, furnished with white appliances: a fridge, a stove, and a microwave. A countertop island separated the kitchen from the small dining set. The flooring was elegant marbled tile.

The three seat sofa was a light brown, with a brown arm chair off to the side. The glass coffee table had a few miscellaneous things on its surface: a couple of magazines, a book or two, and a TV remote. A television set was on a wooden desk.

There was a second hallway, connected to the kitchen – no doubt leading to a bedroom or two. There were a handful more paintings on the wall.

Zach itched to go see them.

“So. Hungry?” asked Hawke, drawing his attention. Zach walked towards the island, coming to a stop on the other side. The man turned around, lifting an eyebrow. Zach crossed his arms in front of his chest, turning his head away. His stomach ached.

“No.”

Another lie.

“Sounds like your stomach has made its case,” said Hawke with a chuckle. “You know I’m not deaf, right?”

Zach stiffened. “Well,” he snapped. “I’d have to be pretty stupid to eat anything from you. You could’ve poisoned it.”

“You know better than anyone that if I really wanted to kill you, you’d be dead,” said Hawke, his tone light. Zach’s jaw clenched. “I haven’t poisoned the food and I haven’t drugged it.”

“Mmm, riiight,” drawled Zach.

“If you don’t believe me, then just wait for me to take a bite,” said Hawke, amused.

The man pulled out ingredients from the fridge. Zach didn’t move, watching intensely. Soon, the island was overflowing with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, sliced deli meat, cheese, mayo, ketchup, and whole wheat bread. With a clink, Hawke placed plates onto the countertop. He waved a hand.

“All right, have at it.”

Huh?

“Come, make your own,” said Hawke, opening the bag of shredded lettuce. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but there should be enough variety here. It’s not a fancy dinner, but nobody can say no to a good sandwich.”

Zach looked at the food; his eyes flicked back towards the man. He didn’t move. Hawke sighed.

“I didn’t poison my own food,” said Hawke in a low voice. He grabbed some bread. “I bought some of this today, if that makes you feel any better.”

He… went grocery shopping? For me?

Hawke went about making his own sandwich. It quickly overflowed with ingredients: a lot of turkey, one slice of cheese, a bucket load of pickles, two slices of tomatoes, some shredded lettuce, and a mixture of mayo and ketchup. Zach winced at the combo.

Huh, who knew. Falcon was an actual human who needed food for sustenance. What, he didn’t need the blood and flesh of the dead to survive? Hah.

It was surreal. The simple act of making a sandwich revealed quite a few things about the man.

“Go on,” said Hawke, taking a large bite out of his massive creation. “It’s not going to make itself.”

With a slight tremor to his hands, Zach made the exact same sandwich, sans the ketchup and pickles. It was the safest route.

Hawke smiled. “We like the same thing,” he said with a grin.

“No, we don’t.”

“Well, almost the same thing.”

“Stop that,” snapped Zach. “Don’t try to find similarities between us. I made the same sandwich simply to avoid being drugged.”

“I told you—”

“Right, because I’m so gullible to believe everything you say is the absolute truth.” Zach rolled his eyes. “Please.”

Hawke clamped his mouth shut. He sighed. With an indistinct mutter, the man took another bite, chewing with a grudging gaze towards the side.

Zach studied his profile.

With those high cheekbones and prominent jaw line, the man’s features had a distinct ageless appearance – perhaps being clean shaven played a part in that. Though Zach didn’t have the same black hair, he had gotten the man’s wavy texture.

Zach frowned.

He could’ve sworn when he’d met Hawke, the man had a bit of greying or white at his roots. Now his hair was all black, not a strand of grey in sight.

Mmmm.

Hawke turned his head, looking at him.

Those crystal blue eyes.

The evidence was more than apparent, even beyond the eyes. The more Zach studied the man’s features, the more the resemblance could be seen. The similarity in the eyebrows and the jawline were uncanny. The way the man’s mouth moved with his expressions reminded Zach of himself. The hints were subtle, but they were there.

He couldn’t deny it any more.

He was the man’s son.

The realization landed on his shoulders, bearing down on him with the weight of a thousand tons. He hadn’t paid much attention yesterday. This was more than letters on a screen. Written in flesh, the evidence was there.

He had never been Michael Bennet’s son.

Zach had never looked like him. Everything he’d known about himself was a lie. A wave of emotion tore through his soul.

Complex genetics, eh?

They were cruel in their simplicity

He took a bite of his sandwich. Saliva built up in Zach’s mouth; his eyes burned and watered. His emotions grew and climaxed.

Lack of sleep and lack of food, these things had torn down his protective barriers. His body and hormones overtook his control. There was no stopping the tears from slipping down his face. He ignored them. He didn’t bother to wipe them away. With trembling hands, he continued to eat.

Yet another tear slipped through his defenses, unwanted and unbidden.

Keep reading –>

TWENTY-EIGHT

He’s getting worse.

Hikaru paced the kitchen, wringing her hands. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen stove. It was fifteen minutes after six. Once they had gotten home from school, Zach had disappeared into the boys’ bedroom and hadn’t resurfaced since.

She chewed on her lower lip before sighing at herself in exasperation. She forced herself to stop.

Something was boiling on the stove, but she barely noticed. She glanced at the bedroom door for the thousandth time that afternoon.

Ugh, I’m sick of myself now! He’s going to be fine. He’s strong.

But he was isolating himself from them, something he had never done before in the past. At this rate… Whatever stress he was under, whatever was going on, it was going to kill him.

Was he this worried about Falcon?

Or was it something more?

“Pasta is going to get soggy if it’s left to boil any longer,” said Sevati, looking up from the kitchen table. “Wasn’t that the timer?”

“What?” asked Hikaru, blinking. She tore her gaze away from the bedroom door and looked at Sevati. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The pasta? It’s done.”

“Oh!” breathed Hikaru.

She hurried to the stove, grabbing some hot pads. She poured the boiling water into a colander, setting the pot back onto the stove. She turned the cold water on, rinsing the pasta. Her mind wandered; she glanced towards the bedroom door yet again.

“He’s going to be fine.”

“What?” said Hikaru, snapping her gaze onto Sevati.

“I said he’s going to be fine,” said Sevati. She shook her head. “You need to stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself at this rate.”

Hikaru sighed, putting a damp hand to her forehead. The cool water felt nice on her skin.

Did the others notice what was going on with him? Zach was unraveling. She had never seen him do that before. No. There had to be something more here than just stress about Falcon. Zach never kept secrets.

And Hikaru knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Zach was keeping secrets now.

“He’s under a lot of stress,” said Sevati in a low voice, her dark eyes filled with an observant light. “He’s keeping a lot to himself.”

“You noticed, then,” whispered Hikaru. She shut off the faucet and turned towards Sevati. The other three were sitting on the couch, watching some lighthearted TV show.

“Hard not to,” said Sevati with a sad smirk. “He’s not the greatest at hiding how he feels.”

No, he’s certainly not.

“He’s the leader,” said Hikaru; her hands gripped each other. Her voice went up a pitch. “We have to trust what he does is good for us as a whole.”

Sevati raised an eyebrow. “That’s unit talk,” she said. “Now what about family?”

Yes…

What about family?

She couldn’t push him – that much was all too clear. Zach was acting strangely; he would pull away. She had to deal with him delicately, like a skittish wild animal. If she pressured him too much… What if that did more harm than good?

“I try to get him to eat,” said Hikaru, drying her hands on a towel. Determination rose in her heart. “It’s time for dinner anyway. I’ll go get him.”

Please don’t push us away, Zach. We’re here for you.

“Whoa, hang on, Hikaru,” said Drake. “Maybe you should leave him alone.”

“Isn’t he taking a nap?”

“With this much noise? “

“He hasn’t come out for hours now,” said Hikaru, her tone firm. “He seemed down again at school. He missed lunch. I don’t remember him eating anything for breakfast. He needs dinner.”

His empty stomach churned.

Their voices filled the room. Zach uncurled his legs from his chest, scooting to the edge of his bed. The room was dark, save for the stream of light pouring through the crack beneath the door.

“You know he hasn’t been sleeping lately,” said Drake in a low voice. “He needs to rest.”

“But he needs to eat, too…” said Jacob, his voice soft and timid. “He’s gonna get sick.”

“And something else is wrong as well,” said Sevati. There was a long pause. “What, you didn’t notice? He’s keeping a lot of stuff from us.”

“Well, duh,” said Brielle.

“I think we all noticed that,” whispered Drake.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

They know something’s wrong.

What am I gonna do?

“Okay, enough, let’s not overwhelm him,” said Hikaru with a long sigh. “He’s got a lot on his plate. We know that. I just want him to eat. That’s all. We’ll figure what’s going on with him later. Food and rest first.”

Zach sighed, closing his eyes and wishing he could crawl back beneath the covers. Hiding for a few years sounded fantastic. With a tired huff, Zach stood up and walked to the door, opening it. He squinted his eyes at the bright light. An assortment of surprised gasps came from his friends.

“Hey,” said Zach, after his eyes adjusted. He folded his arms and lifted a sardonic eyebrow. “You know I can hear you, right?”

Hikaru flushed. The group exchanged glances.

“Well, it’s been a few hours,” said Hikaru, her features lifting in a gentle smile. “It’s time for dinner. I made spaghetti.”

“Thanks,” said Zach softly, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “But I just want to rest some more, all right?”

“But you haven’t eaten all day,” said Hikaru. Her smile couldn’t hide the light of concern in her eyes. “You need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

A lie…

Zach closed the door. His stomach rumbled. With a sigh, he leaned his forehead against the cool surface of the door. He could hear the hushed whispers on the other side, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

I’m sorry, guys.

Give me a little more time.

But he had precious little of it. He checked his phone. He had another hour at least. He had another hour to wait and brood and think and endlessly wait before he had to see that man again.

Ugh.

It was gonna be a long hour.

He sat on his bed, waiting. He couldn’t be around the others right now. He couldn’t bear it. Zach hunched over, hiding his face into his hands.

What’s it gonna be like? I visit and then what? What does he want from me?

‘I just want to get to know… my son.’

What did that even mean? What’re they going to do anyway? How was Falcon expecting to ‘get to know’ his son? Play board games? Zach shuddered at the thought.

I’m overthinking this—everything.

Just go.

It’s time.

Zach stood up and slowly peeked out of the bedroom. It was clear. As best as he could tell, the others were on the couch watching TV. He sneaked out. His footsteps were silent as he walked to the front door. He grabbed his shoes, opened the door, and slipped into the hallway, sitting down on the top of the stairs to put on his shoes.

“Zach.”

Her voice stilled his heart. His fingers froze. He glanced back at Hikaru. She looked down at him, her brow furrowed.

“You’re leaving again,” said Hikaru. Her gaze was piercing. Her mouth parted slightly as she drew in a slow breath. “Is something going on?”

Yes. Absolutely. Perhaps the end of the world. Remember me fondly.

What to say? What to say? What on earth could he say to her? A lie. What kind of lie? Ugh, did he have to lie? This was going to kill Zach before the day was out.

“You won’t… be out late again, will you?” asked Hikaru. Her hands clasped together; they went white.

Zach’s tense body slowly relaxed. “For a few nights a week, I have to be somewhere,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. I could be late.”

“Okay,” said Hikaru, a little breathless. She bit her lip; her expression was filled with longing. She nodded, more a nervous tick than agreement. “Okay, then. You’ll text me after eleven? Just so… you know, we’re not worried.”

“Of course. I promise.”

Zach stood up. A soft hand touched his shoulder, drawing him to turn to her. A tender light filled her eyes. Her other hand slipped into his, fingers intertwining with one another; it was warm with its embrace.

“You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” asked Hikaru softly. Her voice was ever so gentle and imploring. Her hand squeezed his; her other hand dropped to her side.

“What?” breathed Zach.

“If something was wrong or if something was bothering you…” whispered Hikaru. “You’d tell me, right? You wouldn’t keep it to yourself because you know you can tell me anything.”

The air was heavy around him; he became lightheaded from lack of air. It was a sweet, honeyed trap of words – but he didn’t fault her for it. He had always told her everything.

So, why couldn’t he now?

Say it.

Tell her.

“Of course,” whispered Zach, the lie gentle and breathy.

Coward.

She smiled brightly. “Oh, good,” Hikaru said, sounding relieved. Her gaze dropped; a faraway light entered her eyes. “I was… worried we weren’t close any more.”

“What?” said Zach, frowning. He lifted their clasped hands, putting his other hand over hers. “Why would you think that? You’re my best friend.”

“You’ve been rather distant,” said Hikaru, her expression crinkling. “Not just with me, but with everyone. And it’s getting worse. You’d never shut yourself away all day before.”

Zach sighed, running a hand through his hair. He tugged on the ends slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said in a low tone. “It’s… been a long few weeks. It’ll get better. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Liar.

“Everything is all right, then?”

“Of course it is,” said Zach with a playful grin. He pulled out of her grasp; the air was cold on his flesh. “Don’t wait up tonight, all right? I’ll see you later.”

He turned away, each step weighing heavier than the last. At the bottom of the stairs, he glanced up. He gave Hikaru a wave of the hand before he went out into the cold night. He rubbed his arms. A fog had descended, the air damp and white, mirroring the haze in his mind and heart.

He was sliding down a mountain, slipping in muddy lies and staining his soul. He was lying like a champ. Someone give him an award.

Zach gritted his teeth.

He didn’t want to do this. He should go back. Go back. Tell her everything. He didn’t want to keep secrets. He missed the peace and clarity that had come with transparency. His raging feelings rushed through his chest, a torrent of confusion, guilt, fear, and longing.

Was this the man’s plan? Throw him into a disarray of confusion and guilt? Falcon had the advantage. This ceasefire would only last until Falcon said so. There was nothing on Zach’s end that he could leverage against him.

‘Time with you.’

Please.

Please.

The man was faking his interest. Once Falcon got bored with trying to ‘get to know his son,’ the country would be in danger once again. More lives would be lost. Zach would have to play the game.

I’ll get more information. I’ll tell them soon. I’ll tell her everything soon. I swear it. Just wait a little longer.

I won’t be swayed.

I need more proof.

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