Page 63 of Serpent In White
I smirk and shake my head. “Let’s just go. Hurry up. Put your shoes on.”
Darian does what I ask without any further question or argument. We clear out our necessities, and I hustle him out of the bedroom as quietly as possible, practically pushing him toward the stairs. His face goes instinctively to their bedroom, but I keep shoving him so he can’t look that way.
Once we’re downstairs, I grab us as many bottles of water and Gatorade as I can, raiding the cabinets for snacks I can fit into a spare bag.
“What if they find out…?” Darian’s nervously shaky voice catches my attention. I turn, finding him practically hugging himself inward, eyes locked on the staircase. “It’ll just make it worse…”
“No,” I snap at him, and his eyes fling to mine. “Never again, Darian. I told you. Never fucking again. That’s why we’re leaving, and that’s why we have to do it right now.”
He takes a deep breath and nods.
And then we leave. We sneak out the backdoor, cutting in between houses, avoiding the roads. Kara’s working the overnight shift, but she’ll be home in a couple of hours. Once she gets home, all hell will break loose.
We need to be far away from here by then.
We take the QLine to the bus station, where I buy us tickets to as far as we can get; Denver.
“Denver?” Darian hums while we stand outside, waiting for the next bus, which doesn’t leave for another hour. We’re cutting it close, but it’s shady enough around here that I think we’ll be able to get onto the bus with no one being any the wiser. It’s a risk, which is why I keep my hood up the entire time, and urge Darian to do the same. “What’s in Denver?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Mountains.”
“You and your mountains,” he chuckles. It’s amazing to see him smiling. He’s so damn strong, I can’t believe it.
“Maybe we won’t stay in Denver, but it’s just… nowhere near here. And that’s where we need to go. Fucking away from this shithole.”
Darian nods, though I can see the pain in his eyes as he angles his chin to the ground. I pull a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and stick two in my mouth, lighting them both at once, and handing one to him. He doesn’t really smoke much, since he’s all athletic and shit, but he needs it right now.
He takes it and we smoke in silence for a few minutes. My mind is so busy running through a plan, forcing away the memories of what happened tonight that I almost miss it.
A little sniffle. But it catches my ear, and I tense.
“Hey.” I move up to Darian, crowding him so he has to look at me. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. You’re safe now.”
He’s fucking shivering so hard I can hear his teeth chattering, his hands shaking so bad he drops the cigarette on the ground. He sputters for air, and I toss my cigarette, grabbing him quick. Wrapping my arms around him, I hold him tightly while he breaks the fuck down.
“Darian, breathe,” I whisper, my hand cupping the back of his head. “He can’t get to you again. I promise. I swear on my life, he’ll never hurt you again.”
“H-how do you kn-know?” He buries his face in my neck, tears soaking my flesh. “You can’t p-promise that, Drake.”
“Yes… I can.” My voice comes out firm; certain. His face lifts, our eyes meeting and sticking together, unable to break the bond no matter how hard I feel like I should look away.
His bottom lip is all pouty, and I can see it quivering, which brings my attention to the fact that I’m watching his mouth now, not his eyes.
I swallow hard as a strange sensation slinks around in the pit of my stomach. I’ve felt it before when looking at Darian… Seeing him change, or come out of the bathroom in a towel. I always assumed it was discomfort. Because I shouldn’t be looking at a guy like that, especially not my foster brother. My best friend.
But now it doesn’t feel like a sickness as much as it feels like the cure.
Darian licks his lip. I’m still holding him, molding his strong body to mine, and I don’t think we should be doing this… We shouldn’t be touching like this.
“Dar, I’m sorry…” I whisper. “I should let go…”
“I-I don’t…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, though I can almost hear him saying,I don’t want you to.
But eventually, we pull apart. He goes to the bathroom to fix himself up, then we chain-smoke more cigarettes until the bus comes.
Once on board, we get settled in the back, preparing for our roughly twenty-hour journey. This bus will take us to Kansas City, then we have to transfer, which could be dangerous. Hopefully not.
I refuse to let Darian know I’m worried. I don’t need to add any more stress to his plate.
