He Was the Air

3: Final Pass

They left the theater together. Fer felt as though a sickly curtain had fallen upon him. They walked a short distance from there to Becca's, mostly in a silence neither of them cared to address. But eventually, Kam lit him a cigarette and they tramped through the wet roads side by side, smoking. The familiarity they had was different now. Fer's body hurt and he hated the smell of Kam on his skin.

"Was it okay?" Kam asked.

Fer pulled smoke from his cigarette. "You were there to see it yourself, weren't you?"

Kam smiled and he really did look pleased, but it was a complicated expression, "I thought it was pretty great."

"I'm glad." Fer said, distantly.

Kam blew a large plume of smoke into the air and watched as it rose and drifted away. "Fer," he said, "Don't tell anyone."

A weight dropped in Fer's stomach. Cold, seething anger clenched him. Kam looked his way.

"Who am I supposed to tell, Kam?" Fer asked, defiantly. "My brother? Omega? Tell them that I let you fuck me?"

Kam knew when the better thing to say was nothing. He put the cigarette to his lips again.

"Did you think I would be dying to brag to them about how I let you satisfy yourself? Humiliate me?"

Kam flinched. "Well, it wasn't just me, Fer."

Fer was exasperated. "Oh I know, Kam. It doesn't matter!"

Kam was very tense, and Fer, burning alive before his eyes.

"I just think it's funny," Fer said. "How you think you are the one to be embarrassed."

Kam threw his cigarette butt to the gutter and said nothing.

"You're not a very good person sometimes, Kam."

Kam looked down. "I'm sorry. I really didn't want to hurt you."

Fer flicked his cigarette away angrily too. "Yeah, I know."

As late as it was when the two of them made it up those treacherous iron stairs and into the house, morning came all too soon. Fer was grateful for what little bit of sleep he did get in the fleeting hours of darkness before first light. Today was sure to be grueling. He rolled out of his cot discreetly, aiming to sneak in a hot shower before anyone else was up and about. Noisy thoughts rattled around in his tired brain. Why did he let that happen last night? He should have known better. He did. But what's done is done. His body wasn't going to be quick to forget about it either. He wasn't sure how to feel about that reminder. He enjoyed his shower in that old-style tiled bathroom well enough and, once he was dressed, found that everyone else was beginning to move about. Sven had made a pot of coffee. It wasn't anything special. Sometimes that was what you wanted though.

The place Becca rented was pretty charming for what it was: the upper floor of an old, divided house. Its better days were clearly behind it, but when you went into the kitchen in the morning you could see the sun peeking up in vibrant hues of orange and red through a large pane-glass window by the breakfast table. That was really nice. In the city, especially in the summertime, there weren't a lot of clear days anymore. Sometimes, around sun-up, you could still detect the skyline pretty well: grey buildings as far as the eye could see. The sun rising among spindly towers and the skeletons of the industrial complex were as beautiful a sight now as they must have ever been. Rain had nearly cleared the air last night and so the morning sun was a spectacular vision to behold. It was the last look he would get at their own dear star which he had known so well.

Sven was a cheerful and outgoing person by nature but he was hardly himself in the mornings. He poured himself coffee and sat in the sunlight at the table like a cat. He rested there undisturbed, as Fer knew better than to bother him prematurely. He had always thought it was funny to see his brother this way, especially since Fer might have favored the mornings a little himself. The two of them were a like night and day in this respect, never quite in the same place at the same time. Fer took his own coffee from the pot and and seated himself without encroaching on Sven's nonverbal morning rituals. Instead, he looked out the window with his coffee as well. The sunrise was such a remarkable thing if you really stopped to think about it. What was it? Something you think you see, but really, the product of something else. A hidden mechanism, a greater order of the universe. He wished that he had a way of knowing right now, with his brother next to him at this beat up little oaken table, what the sun might be like where they were going, what anything might be like.