Arsen reached out without thought, tracing the outline of the object protruding slightly from between Ever’s shoulder blades. Jesus. “Is that…is that a tracking device?”
Ever bobbed his head, panicked. “If I go, they’ll find me. And you, too. Just go.”
Blya. Blya. Blya. Blya.
Fuck.
“Okay, we won’t leave the house just yet, but can we leave the closet?”
Ever eyed the doorway warily.
“She’s gone, I promise.”
Ever let Arsen tug him from the stench of the closet into the fresh air of the bedroom. He picked up the gun, ensuring the safety was on before stuffing it in the pocket of his hoodie.
Ever’s gaze was glued to the bed, to the body of the woman who’d held him captive for God only knew how long. Arsen wasn’t sure if the boy’s complete lack of emotion was a good or bad thing.
Arsen set him with this back to the wall, hoping it would ease some of his anxiety, then grabbed his phone and made the call he most definitely didn’t want to make.
Jericho answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice gruff from sleep.
“Who is it?” he heard his husband ask.
“Arsen,” Jericho explained, then said again, “What’s wrong?”
“Coe, I have a big problem.”
There was a long moment of silence. Arsen never had problems. “How big?”he asked, voice grim.
Arsen let out a shaky breath. “I think I need Freckles. And his medical bag.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Me? No. But someone else is. I can’t leave him here, but we can’t go until someone with some surgical training shows up. So, hurry, please.”
“What the hell happened, kid?”
Arsen shook his head, locking eyes with Ever, who blinked at him with a sort of bemused expression. “I think I found you a new stray.”
“Shit. We’ll be there soon.”
With that, he was gone. Arsen gave Ever what he hoped was a reassuring smile. The boy stared at him for so long, Arsen was afraid to blink and lose the contest. But then he crawled closer. Much closer. His fingers once more went to Arsen’s hair, picking at it like he thought it might come loose in his hands, seeming almost amused when it held firm.
“Pretty,” he said softly.
Arsen shivered. This close, he could see every detail of Ever’s face. The chapped lips, the slight scarring at the corners of his mouth. Neither of those things took away from how beautiful he was. Small and delicate looking.
Arsen sat frozen, just staring at Ever’s soft expression as he amused himself playing with Arsen’s hair. He was dissociating. Arsen recognized the symptoms and had done it a million times himself as a kid, the brain protecting itself from trauma.
What the fuck had they done to him?
Arsen smelled good. He had a scent that made Ever want to bury his face in it. He was so colorful. His hair was blue like the sky. His eyes were, too, so light they almost seemed to glow in the dim light from the street lamp outside. Even his sweatshirt was colorful. A deep pink color like flowers or bubble gum or cotton candy.
Ever knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it. Arsen was…what was the word? He was half-tempted to grab the dictionary from his closet so he could find the perfect term. Was there even a term for how looking at him made Ever feel?
Probably not.
He cycled through dozens of words in his head before he finally settled on one. Luminous. That was the word. Arsen was luminous, a beacon in Ever’s world of permanent monochrome.
