"Hold on tight," he said, his mouth set at a jaunty angle, teeth slightly bared. His shiny, black helmet framed his face on three sides, though somehow it only served to make him look more badass than usual. A tinted visor blocked his eyes from view. It was wearing on me a bit how many times my stomach lurched when I looked at him. Every glance was a feast of my favourite things, and I was bloating from it. I also happened to be a glutton, so there was that problem.

I nodded, my chin pressed against his back. I didn't want to open my mouth for fear of telling him how much I enjoyed the sensation of clinging to him. My arms linked snugly around his waist, the seat of his motorcycle was just long enough to fit me behind him – all of the little things we hadn't accounted for had fallen into place.

The engine had already begun to purr, but as my grip on him tightened, I felt the purr build into a growl, then a snarl, and suddenly, we were off in a roar of sound.

It was something of a winding path coming down the mountain, but we made good time, and were on the highway in a matter of minutes. Part of me was tempted to turn around, to blow the valley a kiss, but I didn't want to let go of Sebastian. There would be other instances when I could do it, I reasoned with myself.

As much as I had wanted to enjoy the sights around us, I felt an anticipatory dread pressing on my brain like an oncoming headache. I caught glimpses of small towns, dairy farms, and a desert. It struck me then how long ago it'd been when I had last come this way; I had been with my mother, dropping off the last of my belongings at the farm, before my permanent move.

Permanent – the word sounded funny in my head, but not unpleasant.

The air was cool and I silently thanked Yoba that I had thought to wear a jacket. I also thanked Yoba for the warmth of Sebastian's body. Every time I adjusted my hands, I thought I would have to pinch myself. I held the dark prince in my arms, and he was taking me home to the city.

We had set out at 6am, but the hours ticked by faster than I liked. Forests melted into factories, which in turn were devoured by hulking houses at the edges of fields. Soon, the fields filled up with more houses, smaller houses, until the houses became narrow, tall, and tiled with glass and steel and concrete.

We had missed the morning rush of commuters, but as we stopped at a red light, I felt it – the thrum of life coursing through me, littering the roads, tucked into the alleys and side streets. Billboards encouraging me to drink Joja Cola and catch a Tunnelers game assaulted my senses. The shrieks of cars charging through red lights, the loud oaths of pedestrians too close to curbs – all of it formed a dome, an atmosphere of its own that pressed down on me. Now that I'd had a taste of small-town life, the city felt enormous and unwieldy. There were so many streets, so many intersections, so many people clogging them all.

This is my home, I reminded myself. This is where I belong.

We slipped down a less busy street and he signalled that he was going to pull into the last available spot nestled between a mud-caked mini van and a pristine, luxury sports car. The engine was cut, the growl subsided, and he slid off the bike. I followed suit, slightly bow-legged.

As he put coins into the parking meter, I pulled my helmet off, letting my hungry eyes devour the sights around me. Brick, steel, and glass lined this block in the form of low-rise apartments and small retail storefronts. People milled about, though none of them gave us anything more than a passing glance. Anonymity, the fiend I used to cavort with, sidled back to my side. The beast in my chest roared – Home, Home, Home! The word was bursting out of my chest, trilling up and down me through my veins, my arteries. And as it freed itself from me, it hollowed out my insides and I shuddered as the dread shattered within me. I was finally here, and it was glorious.

So early in the season, the trees had not quite started to lose their leaves, and so the sky – that familiar grey-blue autumnal sky – was sliced by a layer of red, gold, orange, and brown, rustling in the gusts of traffic as cars raced by. The air was full, infused with the comforting aroma of baked goods wafting out of a nearby café, punctuated by the whine of construction machinery a block over. As I stood there taking it in, I realized with a blush that Sebastian was watching me, hands in his pockets, lips slightly parted.

"Where to?" I asked, the question sounding unnaturally bold and challenging.

He slipped his gaze off me and ran his fingers through his hair, making my stomach clench. "I wanted to get some new computer parts."

"Cool," I said, wracking my brain for a good suggestion, still recovering from his glance. "Abe's is not too far from here. They would probably have what you're looking for."

He nodded. "That's where I was thinking, too. Do I get cred for thinking like a local?"

I laughed, though I could not deny the edge to his question. "Definitely, though I'm sure there are pockets of the city that you know better than I do. I didn't go out a lot when I lived here, mostly just went from my parents' house to work and back. Sometimes I'd buy groceries if my parents were out of town, but that's about it."

Sebastian nodded and we started walking towards Abe's. "I understand."

"It might be a programmer-centric affliction."

"Probably," he said before a truck lumbered by, blaring its horn. I watched as he cringed.

As we fought to turn the corner against the flow of the crowd, I watched a man in loafers and a well-cut slate suit kick over a vagrant's styrofoam cup just some paces ahead of us. Coins spilled across the pavement, and the sea of people walking by paid no heed. Some even kicked away and snatched up a few coins. I winced, thinking about Linus.

Just barely holding my own in the stream of people, I crouched down and scooped up some of the loose coins. I sensed Sebastian do the same just behind me.

We placed them back in the cup.

"Thank you, thank you," the homeless man said, his patchy whiskers twitching into a grateful smile.

Nodding, I pulled myself back up and waved as we rejoined the crowd once more before breaking off to enter Abe's.

As Sebastian pushed open the door, the labyrinthine shelves of Abe's revealed themselves to us, lined with cardboard boxes split open, striped with packing tape, and split open again, their contents spilling onto the metal shelves. Wires, cables, hard drives, strips of LEDs – all of them reached out, pleading to be picked up and examined. I itched to linger and admire the dusty newness of them, but Sebastian loped ahead, intent on completing his quest.

My hands trailed by my side, my fingers dangling, the tips just grazing cardboard and metal and plastic. I had built a gaming PC years and years ago for myself, but I hadn't had time to play on it during my time at Joja. The nervous warmth of homecoming slithered up my arms with every tactile connection.

Sebastian stood just ahead of me holding two video cards, one in each hand. He looked appraisingly at them, his brow furrowed, chin slightly jutting forward. I knew that despite his expression, he was struggling not to show his excitement – his lips fought against a smile, his eyes tried to dull their lively glistening.

"Which one are you leaning towards?" I asked, sidling up to him.

He turned and I took care not to swoon.

"Probably this one," he said, holding out the box clutched in his left hand. "It's more expensive, but the quality is worth the difference."

"That's fair. Plus I owe you money for gas so I can cover the difference."

He shook his head. "No, this trip is my treat. Plus you're making up for it by being good company. I like making these trips by myself, but it can be lonely." His gaze dropped to the floor and I detected a blush creep up his neck as a similar heat slid under my collar.

"Well, thank you."

After replacing the box in his right hand back on the shelf, we dodged teetering towers of cardboard overflowing with parts and a smattering of fellow shoppers blocking narrow aisles as we made our way to the cashier.

"Hello," the bespectacled man behind the counter said, weariness bleeding into his smile. A grey fuzz covered his chin, accenting his dry, gnarled mouth. "Did you find everything you were looking for today?"

Sebastian nodded and pushed the video card forward. The man paused, his hand hovering over it.

"Oh, heh," he said, looking sheepish. "Are you sure you need this now? We're going to be marking this down tomorrow."

"Wait, why?" I asked sharply before Sebastian could say anything.

"Well," the man looked around cautiously. "I'm keeping this on the down low, but we're closing up shop at the end of the year. We'll be having sales from tomorrow until then as we clear out stock."

"That's a shame," I said, as I tried to process what he'd said. An abrupt sadness settled in me as I exchanged glances with Sebastian, who looked equally distressed. "I'm sorry to hear that. May I ask why?"

"It's not sustainable," he said, a bitter smile limning his words. "Small businesses like us can't survive in this city. Rent is so high and competition is too stiff."

I couldn't argue with him there. That issue had made headlines time and time again as more businesses felt the crunch of higher rents. The revelation still felt like a punch to the gut regardless, the raw ugliness of it forcing me to face it.

"So," I managed, frowning, "what are you going to do after that?"

He shrugged and then sighed. "Might have to try a different city, or try in a smaller town, somewhere the big guys haven't infiltrated yet."

I nodded.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "I don't know if this is possible for you, but you can charge me the current price as it is. If you can attribute the sale to tomorrow, I'd like if you kept the difference for yourself, as a thank you." He flushed, but his voice remained even. "It's not much, but it's something."

The man's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Sebastian nodded.

"I greatly appreciate it." The man keyed in something and Sebastian handed him his money. The video card was slipped into a small plastic bag and Sebastian tucked it inside his jacket.

"Thanks again," the man said, and relief peppered the smile he gave us.

With a final wave, we re-entered the labyrinth and left the store.

"I don't get people in this city sometimes," I said over my shoulder to a stony-faced Sebastian. "They'll pay over 500g for shitty coffee and shitty service while businesses like Abe's flounder and die." I shook my head and stumbled back as someone slammed into me.

A sinking feeling pulled what remained of my minor elation down – there were so many people out and about. We must have stumbled into the lunch hour rush. I glanced back to see how Sebastian was faring and felt the drop in my mood complete.

I had never seen him so uncomfortable. Streams of people trotted by, each piece of the whole engaged in being its own self-sufficient whole. I wondered what they looked like to him. He pressed himself against the building, as far from the people as possible. I saw his chest rise and fall, and I could almost hear his heartbeat resounding in my head.

An idea struck me. "Come," I said, and dragged him down, onto a less busy street framed by telephone poles papered in posters begging us all to enlist in the armed forces.

As he realized how much more of the sidewalk he could see between the people, his shoulders lowered, and his body let out a sigh.

"Thanks," he managed, and I tried to ignore the light gasp that accompanied the word.

"I'm not done yet," I said, tugging on his arm.

We continued down the block of sleepy low-rise offices until we reached about halfway. Here, I turned onto a narrow stone path that squeezed between two buildings. I didn't have to look at him to know that he was bewildered.

He said nothing as we inched farther down the path, our shoulders brushing the dirty brick and stucco. As we slipped through to the other side, I felt the tension in him ripple away.

Before us was a small courtyard laden with stone bricks and concrete. Around the edges, vines and trellises snaked up along the building exteriors, painting intricate patterns across their dull façades. A circle of wooden benches fanned out across the space and trees alternated with them, creating a symmetry of wood, alive and dead. Just above, in the gaps between the surrounding buildings, the skyscrapers of the financial district glinted. Although the bustle of the city streets could still be heard, it dropped to a murmuring buzz, stifled somewhat by the buildings and greenery.

"I used to come here during my lunch breaks, before deadlines got crazy. The people working in these offices never seemed to use it."

He tilted his head, taking it all in, and I heard him loose a sigh. "This is great, like an oasis of fresh air." He took a few steps, testing out the tranquillity, before facing me. "It means a lot that you shared this with me."

Part of me wanted to shrug, afraid of what the tenderness in his voice meant, desperate to shy away from the potential heartache my mind kept wandering to. But I had hurt him in the past with my fear, my forced dismissiveness. I settled for a simple nod. "I thought you might appreciate the sanity."

His breathing was easy now; the sanctuary had worked its magic. "I'm done with my tasks for the day. If there's anywhere you want to go, we can do that next."

I knew my answer before I said it, and I reckoned he had an inkling of it as well. The inside of my mouth went dry and I ran my tongue across the backs of my teeth, hoping to find a better suggestion for where to go, but the words keep repeating in my head.

"First thing's first," I said, my jaw set in a grim line. "I need to go see my parents."