The Kings of Us [boyxboy - DISCONTINUED]

Chapter One - Hold Back The River

Chapter One—Hold Back The River

Alexei had been in a catatonic, zombie-like state for weeks—or so his sisters had said.

They were partially true, he thought.

He didn't even know where he was. The locations faded away and all that was left were the raw memories that ambushed him whenever he dared to close his eyes. He only blinked when necessary, when his eyes stung—but he never slept.

"He has been looking at my feet for the past eight hours," Anastasia said, the carriage jostling her.

"He's still in shock," Tatiana said.

"We're all in shock, but at least we are functioning normally. He doesn't speak, doesn't sleep, doesn't even acknowledge anyone's presence."

"Give it time," Tatiana replied. "We're only a few miles away from the French coastline now. We will be on the boat to England in a few hours. When we're in a permanent residence, he will begin to heal."

"Heal?" Ana repeated, shocked. "How do you heal from watching your parents being slaughtered, from watching dozens of people die, from almost dying yourself?"

Tatiana bit her lip. "I do not know, but it will happen. Everything heals."

Tears pooled in Ana's eyes. "You're wrong. Alexei is broken, and what is broken in pieces can never be mended into what it once was. Everything has changed. He can't heal." She spits, "I can't heal." She stood up, tapping the front of the carriage. "Driver, please can we stop a moment?"

When the carriage grinded to a halt, she opened the door and ran into the woods and the foliage.

Not having Ana's shoes to look at, Alexei looked to the open door. Freedom. He followed her out, walking, with Tatiana and a recently awake Olga shouting after him.

He found himself running, and he was not sure how, but he did not care. He ran for the first time in a while, and he laughed. The sun-rays peaking through the branches tickled his skin, and the breeze geared him on. He was running faster than he ever had in his life, and it was boundless.

He stopped when he entered a clearing, and the grass was so vividly green it almost looked unearthly. He could hear the chirping and the chatter of birds, and he saw a white butterfly. He grinned at how beautiful the scene was.

Then, everything came back. It was like a vortex hitting him with misery and despair, and his knees buckled. As he fell he screamed. It was guttural and pleading, and he had never heard such a sound from his mouth—or anyone's. Then, he cried. He cried so manically it looked like he was dying.

"Alexei?" Olga said, whispering, as she looked at her brother. She was about to speak again, but seeing his state overcame her and she found herself crying suddenly.

She walked over to him, and hugged him from behind. That's all she could do. She couldn't speak—but it seemed to work. He visibly calmed down, and his waves of crying turned into small whimpers.

When she let go and walked to his front, she saw that he was sitting with his legs crossed and his face had lost all semblance of expression, save for his red eyes and the remnants of tears, and he had reverted to his catatonic state again.

"Please," she said, "say something—do something—anything—so that I know you can hear what I am saying."

He did nothing.

"Dammit," she screamed. She picked up a somewhat large branch from the floor and threw it as hard as she could against an ancient willow. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!"