They spent the rest of the day at Sebastian's flat, talking. Not about anything in particular, just getting to really know each other. They also spent a while discussing their plan to bury Mr Moriarty's body and leave the country. Jim must have asked Sebastian thirty times if he was really sure about this. Sebastian always said yes. He knew he couldn't leave Jim to do this on his own; the threat he had made earlier of turning himself in would resurface, and he would spend the rest of his life in prison. Sebastian was willing to do anything if it meant Jim was safe and happy.
Finally, the sky was dark. Sebastian looked at Jim, who was across the room, looking at the books on Sebastian's shelf. "Hey…are you ready?" he asked quietly. Jim turned around and smiled. He didn't want Seb thinking he was weak, or scared.
"Yeah. Let's go," he said, picking up his coat. The two got into Sebastian's car and began to drive. In the back seat were two shovels, flashlights, and a duffle bag of Sebastian's things. They had decided to leave the country as soon as they were done. Jim would pack his stuff once they got to his house. For a long time, neither of them said anything. The reality of what they were doing was finally sinking in.
"Hey, we still don't know for sure whether you killed him or not. Maybe he just had a heart attack or something," said Sebastian hopefully.
"I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure a heart attack wouldn't leave stab wounds," Jim said glumly. He felt guilty and ashamed for having dragged Sebastian into this. He had always been so self-reliant, and now…this. He was making an innocent man his accomplice. This was wrong. He felt no remorse for killing his father; that was completely justified. But ruining Sebastian's life wasn't. "I…I don't want you to do this," he said.
"What do you mean?" asked Sebastian. Backing out of this didn't even seem like a possibility to him. He loved Jim- more than anything. The boy was his only friend, and (as clichéd as it sounded) his only reason for living. Of course he'd help.
"I don't need your help. Stop the car," Jim demanded. It hurt him to be so cold to the man he'd been kissing just a short time before. "I'm not going to let you fuck up your entire life just to help me."
"There's nothing to fuck up," Sebastian said, still driving. "My family won't talk to me, I haven't seen my 'friends' in over a year…my life isn't that spectacular."
"You have a job, and a nice flat," Jim said, trying to make him understand. "You can make new friends! I'm not going to let you throw everything away because I made a stupid mistake in telling you everything!"
Sebastian pulled the car over, rather abruptly, and looked Jim in the eyes. "First of all, you didn't make a mistake in telling me. Your dad was a bastard, and you had every right to protect yourself like you did. I'm going to help you, and we're going to make all of this okay. And second, I don't want to make other friends, or go on living my joke of a life. Day in, day out, waiting for something to happen. We can go away together. I don't need my job, or my family. All I need is you, and if doing this is how I can get you, I'll do it." He held Jim's hand. "You're not talking me out of this," he said gently.
Jim looked at their intertwined hands and smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's the sappiest thing I've ever heard, Moran," he said. "I'm going to need you to not do that again." Sebastian grinned as he started the car and continued driving.
"Oh, so now I can't share my feelings?"
"Not if you're going to turn into a teenage girl every time you do it," Jim said. He continued to look at his friend (or whatever they were to each other now). He would never admit it, but he enjoyed hearing Sebastian say things like that. Jim always tried to be so unaffected by people, so cold. It was refreshing to have someone treat him exactly the opposite way. "Hey, Seb, can you promise me something?" he asked a few minutes later. His voice was quiet, uncertain.
"Hm?" grunted Sebastian, not taking his eyes off the road. He was an extremely careful driver, almost obsessive about safety.
"No matter what I say, or how many times I say it…promise me you'll always remember that I need you." Jim's eyes were locked on his knees. He couldn't look Sebastian in the face while saying this. It was like he was admitting weakness.
"Of course I will," responded Sebastian almost immediately. "I think way too highly of myself to believe you could get along without me," he joked. By this time, they were pulling into a parking space outside of the Moran family's flat. They got out of the car without another word on the subject. Both of them knew how the other felt; they didn't need any more words. Jim bounded up the steps, pulling out his key and unlocking the door. He didn't show any signs that something was wrong, just in case the neighbors were watching. The two went upstairs, not saying a word. They entered the flat, Jim going straight to a bedroom at the back, Sebastian a few steps behind, looking around.
The place wasn't in very good condition. It looked like nothing got cleaned very often: the floor was covered with dirt; there were beer cans and empty cigarette cartons littering the kitchen counters. All the furniture looked old, like it had been used for generations and no one ever thought of replacing it. Sebastian hated to think of Jim living here, listening to his parents argue every night, trying to do his homework while his father was sitting drunk on the couch…this was no place for a kid to grow up. No wonder Jim had done what he did. Seb didn't say a word of this, he just silently followed Jim around as he threw some of his clothes into a duffle bag. They then made their way into Jim's parents' room.
The man lay on the bed, on top of bloody sheets. He had obviously been dead a long time. Jim's eyes were narrowed; he had hardened himself to the task. Both he and Sebastian were determined to leave no trace, and had even taken the precaution of gloves. Sebastian watched Jim out of the corner of his eye, trying to detect some sign of fear, or sadness, but Jim kept his face blank as a slate. He was good at hiding his emotions, and refused to break down now. He just wanted to get this over with. "Come on," he said as he spread his parent's comforter on the floor. The plan was to wrap up the body in it, and carry him out to the car. If anyone asked, they would say they were taking the blanket out to get dry cleaned. Bundling the man up was more difficult than they expected; rigor mortis had set in a few hours ago, and the body was stiff. However, they had both decided earlier that this was the easiest course to take. Cutting up the body could get messy: they didn't want to leave blood stains anywhere. Besides that, neither of them had any tools efficient enough to cut through bone.
They made short work of it; concealing the body and getting it to the door. The most difficult part was holding it in such a way as to not look suspicious. Thankfully, they met no one on the stairs, and got the comforter into the back of Sebastian's car without any questions or odd looks.
"That was lucky," said Sebastian as Jim chucked his duffle into the back seat. They both fastened their seatbelts and began to drive toward the cemetery.
"Yeah, well," Jim muttered. "The few neighbors that are around have learned to ignore us. People used to come knocking when they heard dad yelling, but…they learned," he said moodily. He still hated his father, hated his memory. And he felt no remorse for killing him. Mr Moriarty had made his son's life a living hell. Jim had never been able to have friends, because whenever they came over, his dad would scare them off. And because he was always either too rude or too drunk to keep a job, their family had never been able to afford anything nice: their disgusting flat was in a bad part of town, most of their clothes were secondhand, and there had been times where Jim would've gone days without food had it not been for lunches at school. School was the one good part of his life. Or, at least, it had become good once he met Sebastian.
"We're almost there," Sebastian said quietly, interrupting Jim's reverie. "Remember, we have to go find a place to bury him first. Then we'll come back for him."
"Yeah, I know," said Jim. His voice sounded odd, kind of choked. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, then get on with his life. Sebastian gave him a concerned look from the driver's seat. He knew better than to try to say anything; Jim had his own way of dealing with emotions. And there'd be time for all of that later.
They pulled up to the gates of the cemetery. It was deserted, but that was the point. They got out of the car, got the shovels from the back seat, and flicked on the flashlights they had brought from Sebastian's house, and went in. Sebastian felt a little uneasy: he had always thought of cemeteries as holy places, and now he was there for such an…unholy purpose. He stayed close to Jim, not wanting the two of them to get separated in the dark. Jim smirked a little when he realised what Sebastian was doing.
"Scared of the dark, Sebby?" he asked mischievously.
"No," Sebastian said immediately. Jim shook his head with a smile. "I just don't want anybody to see what we're doing, that's all," he finished.
"What? Going to look at some headstones? It's a public place, we're allowed to be here," Jim said, using the justification they were both prepared to give the police. It would be a bit harder to explain the shovels, but they would cross that bridge if and when they came to it. Sebastian just sighed and kept walking.
"We should find a place towards the back," he said. "Somewhere filled up, where they aren't likely to dig a new grave."
Jim chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd done this before," he said. Sebastian rolled his eyes with a smile.
"Yeah, Sebastian Moran; cold-blooded killer. Not likely," he joked as they reached the back fence of the cemetery. This was where the oldest graves were located; it was crowded with rows of crumbling headstones. "Here," said Sebastian, choosing a bit of ground where no one was buried. "This seems good." They began to dig, carefully cutting the grass out and laying it aside to be put back later. A freshly dug mound would surely garner some suspicion.
Three and a half hours. Sebastian had never thought it would take that long just to dig a hole, but there you go. The body was buried, and unless you looked closely, you couldn't see the places where the grass had been torn up. Sebastian looked over at Jim, who was clearly exhausted. He attempted to grab the boy's hand, but Jim pulled away.
"No," said Jim quietly. "Not here. Let's just leave," he said. He knew it was ridiculous, but for some reason, he felt like his father was still watching him. All Jim wanted was to get out of this cemetery and start his new life with Sebastian. He turned around and headed back to the car, knowing Sebastian would follow.
Sebastian took one last look at the secret, unmarked grave that held Jim's father. Something had changed within him recently; usually he felt some sort of sadness when faced with death, no matter whose it was. But now, all he felt was anger and relief. Anger, because of what Mr Moriarty had done to Jim, his Jim; all the pain he'd caused the boy, all the fear. And relief, because all of it was over now. Sebastian would protect Jim, and love him. They would be happy. With this thought, Sebastian followed Jim to the car. He got there to see Jim sitting in the front seat, his arms wrapped around himself, lost in thought. Sebastian got into the driver's seat, and looked at him. He wanted to pull the boy close to him, but he wasn't sure how the gesture would be received. "Are you going to be alright?" he asked quietly.
Jim nodded and attempted a smile. "I'll be with you, so yeah," he said. "So, where are we going? I mean, we're still leaving England, right?" he asked.
"No, I thought we could just stay here and get arrested for murder," Sebastian joked as he started the car and pulled away.
Jim nudged him playfully with his elbow. "Funny. Really, though, where are we going?"
"I don't know," Sebastian confessed. "It doesn't matter to me." He smiled, resisting the temptation to add, 'As long as you're there, it's perfect'.