Holy crap, chapter 37 already? Wow. Thank you for everyone's much-appreciated and loved support - it continues to make me update like lightning!
Apologies in this chapter for any fluff and/or heart attacks this may inspire in the reader.
Music used:
Denouement by Dario Marianelli
The Cottage By The Beach by Dario Marianelli
May Be by Yiruma
Smash Into You by Beyonce
Letters from the Sky by Civil Twilight
Zombie by the Cranberries
Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade
The Kids Aren't Alright by The Offpsring
I don't believe
In the smile that you leave
When you walk away
And say goodbye
Well I don't expect
The world to move underneath me
But for God's sake
Could you try?
I know that you're true to me
You're always there
You say you care
I know that you want to be mine
- Excerpt, 'Where Is Your Heart?' by Kelly Clarkson
XXX
January 28 2023
Slo studied the old photo that had been taken using a disposable camera. It was a little fuzzy, a little faded, but it was one of his most precious possessions. A five-year-old Slo stared, bewildered, out of the picture. The girl with her arm hooked around his neck and an arm out to hold the camera had no front teeth, yet was still very pretty. Her auburn hair was hacked short from where she'd cut it herself. He'd always felt guilty after his parents died that he'd never told her where he was going. What was her name again? Ruby?
Ruby. That was it.
Today was a special day; he knew that. He was one year older. She knew that, unless she'd forgotten him. Was she thinking of him too? He thought of her every year. Hurriedly, he put away the photo, hearing footsteps, then turned off the lamp on the wall by his bed. Leo was fast asleep. Thanks to Romeo, they'd managed to talk it over, even with K in the same room. Okay, sure, Leo had gotten in some very barbed comments, including calling K a whore at some point, but it was all smoothed over now.
He pulled the covers over his head and rolled onto his side, checking the glowing green alarm clock. It had just turned one past midnight. Slo was now sixteen years old. When he closed his eyes, he could see the numbers zero-zero-zero-one from the clock.
That's when he heard it. A creaking… it sounded most peculiar in this pleasant silence. It became louder, than quieter again. Biting his bottom lip, he slipped out of bed, pulled a pair of sweatpants over his boxers and felt his way through the darkness of the room. When he stubbed his toe on the corner of Leo's bed, he stifled a cuss.
Once out in the well-lit corridor, he squinted to see Jenna exiting the corridor with a magenta wheelie suitcase. She stopped when she heard his movements. Slowly, she turned to face him. She was smiling.
"What are you doing?" He took a step towards her. "Are you leaving?"
"Slo, Slo, Slo," she sighed. "I'm not the only one. I did say goodbye to all the adults too."
"Why are you going?"
"It's my time," she shrugged. Her Californian accent reminded him of his birthplace a lot. "All of this… I love it, and it will always be home to me, but… I'm a grown woman now and I gotta get out sometime. If I stay here, clinging to what I once had, then I will never be free. I'll just keep on coming back, again and again." She reached out to pat one of the walls with her palm. "This place gets inside your head, under your skin. Every single Wammy's kid has left their legacy. There will always be a part of me here."
"We're going to miss you," Slo admitted. "Do you know where you're going?"
"Back to the States, I reckon," she said. "I've an apartment in Los Angeles. Who knows? Maybe I'll stop in San Francisco first, say a little hello to where you grew up."
"How do you know about that?" he whispered.
"I pay attention," she smiled. "Now, you gonna give me a goodbye hug?"
Slo conceded. He hadn't expected to feel his age so soon after he turned sixteen. It was odd. Once he'd released Jenna, she shook his hand.
"You know, for all you pretend to be a badass, heartless bitch, you're all warm and fuzzy inside really," he commented.
"Don't get your hopes up," she grinned. "Bye-bye, little boy."
And with that, Jenna left Wammy's for what would be the penultimate time.
XXX
C pressed a flannel soaked in antiseptic to the torn part of skin just above L's right eyebrow. When he flinched, she simply held onto the back of his head so he couldn't squirm again. This is what happened when someone mocked M's inability to beat Matt on a video game. He was only fortunate she had not been wearing a knuckleduster of some sort at the time, and so C told him whilst she acted nurse. It did not comfort him, yet that was not the point. The point was that he learned from his ludicrous mistakes and did not dare to repeat them. She instructed him calmly to remain perfectly still while she aided him. It was a near impossible task.
"Just keep your eyes on something," she muttered.
"Can you suggest a suitable item?"
"Look over my shoulder, at the wall," she told him.
"That is a vast expanse of area, and would require me to move my head should I examine it properly," he said.
"Then focus on, say, my forehead." He was quiet. "If you say that is a vast expanse of area, I will aptly make this cut much worse than it is."
This was the most informal thing that either of them had said to one another since the aftermath of C's poisoning. If you were to sit in a room with either of them, you would be capable of hearing the difference in the way each of them spoke to others compared to how they communicated on their own. Letters were annunciated more prominently, vocabulary exchanged for extended words and even habits such as using an apostrophe in things such as 'I'm', 'don't', 'won't', 'can't' and 'you're' were replaced by their longer counterparts: 'I am', 'do not', 'will not', 'cannot' and 'you are'.
Not that either of them knew this, but this was one of the catalysts that had driven M to punch L in the face. The nonchalant formality (if that was even possible) had been grating on her nerves so much that the slightest irritation from either of them would have caused a spat.
L finally stopped fidgeting, much to C's appreciation. She turned to return the bottle of antiseptic to the coffee table, instead collecting the thin white tape to place over his cut.
"Why are we doing this?"
She almost fell off the couch, which was not brilliant considering she was wearing a lacy black dress.
"What?" she murmured, sitting up. "I do not have any idea what you mean."
"You know full well what I mean," he said.
Where was this coming from? Where was he getting this courage from?
"I do not understand," she mumbled. "Please elaborate on your hypothesis."
"Oh, stop it," he chastised her. "You can end it with the ceremonial tone now. Please, just listen."
"You – are – being – silly." She could not help emphasizing every single word, beginning to feel sick. With as much force as she could muster, she attempted to pull away. He had wrapped both of his hands around her two wrists, leaving her unable to flee – as without a doubt she would have. It was as if he had sapped all strength from her. She thought she was going to cry. She wanted to hide away in her room and throw out the wrapped up Christmas present he'd given her without opening it.
"C, look at me." Hesitantly, she did so. "I have to ask you something."
"You could ask me without holding onto me."
"If I let go, you'll run."
"I promise I won't. You can see it in my eyes, L. Am I lying?"
He tilted his head to one side, studying her upset expression. "No, I believe not."
He let go of her wrists, instead moving to her hands.
"C, I don't want to lie. I like you and you like me. Why can't this work?"
There. He had actually said it. After all the times he had evaded it, he could no longer hide behind an untruth.
"L," she muttered. "You may like me, and I am flattered, truly, but… I don't like you."
"C, I-"
"Please," she sighed, standing up. "Don't start."
She was halfway towards the door when he spoke again. "So I suppose you did not mean, in any way, shape or form, the words you said just before you passed out when you got poisoned?"
She didn't even look all the way over her shoulder, just far enough for him to see her profile.
"I did not mean it."
As she left, she prayed she had not said anything that could be incriminating for her. By the look on L's face, she could tell she had.
Shit.
XXX
L was knuckling his forehead in the hope he could get rid of that horrible aching feeling. When he accidentally caught the cut she had just left without taping, he winced. He froze in his seat when he felt the place beside him sink. Gingerly, he lifted his head… to see Matt grinning at him.
"What's up, grumpy?"
"Matt," L rolled his eyes, "I do not have time for this."
"I'm just trying to help!" Matt protested. "Seriously! You have self-esteem issues now, and that's just not right for you, Mr. Ego."
"Mr. Ego?" He frowned.
"Uh – so what's the problem?"
L shook his head. "I am such a fool. I never thought I would have to ask you this, but – Ineedromanticadvice."
"Say again."
"I-"
He was cut off by M running into the room and slamming the door behind her, pressing her back against the wood. She was breathing shakily in shock, then saw the two men sitting opposite one another on the couch. The one eyebrow raised was enough to determine her thoughts.
"Am I interrupting something?"
"No, L just wanted to ask me something," Matt shrugged. "M, what's wrong with you?"
"It's Slo's sixteenth birthday today, folks," she hissed. "Guess what's legal now!"
"It's only legal for sixteen-year-olds in the UK, in America it's eighteen-" L tried to point out.
"Is that supposed to be reassuring?" she shrieked at him. "I don't care if it's eighteen in America or Greece or the fucking Vatican State, I just care that it's sixteen here, in England, and it's legal for a horn dog like Slo! Nobody is safe!"
"Technically, it's only eighteen in some American states, for Greece it's fifteen and for Vatican State it's twelve-"
"I don't care!"
"L, what were you going to ask?" Matt checked.
L's face felt a little warmer. "Well, it is not as if I'm going to ask with M in the room."
"Just say it. I don't care."
"I-need-romantic-advice."
Matt's eyes widened.
"Oh."
XXX
"Here you are, Slo. Happy birthday." Mello cheerfully handed the blonde boy a set of keys.
"Mello, you can't get him a car. He's not seventeen yet," C scolded.
"Don't get your panties in a bunch. I didn't get him a car. I got him something legal, of course," Mello shrugged.
"What's that, a hooker?" Matt laughed. He was in a brilliant mood after hearing something he'd needed to brighten his day. He couldn't imagine it getting any better; this was hilarious. L had explained everything, from what C had said before she'd gone unconscious to what had happened just this afternoon.
"I bloody hope not," C muttered. "What did you get him?"
Mello gestured outside gleefully. It was a moment before C let out a shout of, "You got him a motorbike? You can't get him a bloody motorbike, he'll hurt himself! He already gets himself into enough trouble without a motorbike to add to it!"
"C," Mello said, "you have a motorbike."
"Precisely!" she snapped. "I know what I'm talking about! Everyone I know who has ridden a motorbike has fallen off it at least once!"
"You sound like my mother," Slo told her.
"Boy, I will be worse than any mother you will ever know," she warned, hugging him for a second. "Happy birthday, but don't kill yourself, please."
"All this talk of dying is making me depressed," Io grumbled.
"You're already depressed," K said. "Go on, Slo, open that red one next."
"What is this?" Slo cracked up laughing. "A box of – Matt!"
"What did he give you?" C gasped.
"No, I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Slo chuckled. "It's just a PSP."
"Hallelujah," she exhaled, face-palming.
"I'm going to kick your butt on that later," Leo (who had bought him a game for the PSP) cautioned.
"It's a date," Slo sniggered. "This one's mysterious. Check it out. Postage stamp from New York. Who's it from?"
"New York, wow," Athena (who had given him a pair of jeans) commented.
"Someone over there likes you," Checkmate (who had given him a pair of boxing gloves) added. "For no known reason."
When he opened it, he wished he hadn't. There was a note attached to the gift.
Miss you. Happy sixteenth.
Love, Ruby.
Why now? His breath caught. How had she figured out where he was?
'Love, Ruby'? That didn't suit her, from what he remembered. Tentatively, he unrolled the package wrapped in crinkly blue tissue paper underneath the brown postal packaging.
The shiny black gun fell into his lap with a sound like a pop.
Oh. That was more like the Ruby he remembered.