bambi eyes || tradley

15. little me

He wondered if maybe all this would be easier if he turned in Bambi. All he'd ever wanted was for the curly-haired boy to leave him alone, and for him to be able to live normally again. But there was this little part of his heart that the boy with the big, innocent pools of brown and the sweetest smile stole, and there was no way Tristan would be able to let him walk away with half of his heart.

Maybe his old life was easier. Maybe it was easier living a lie and living without stress.

But who wants easy?

Tristan jumped up from the bathtub, pushing the door open. "Okay," he said to the boy patiently waiting on the edge of the bed, "I'm ready."

. . .

The address lead to a house.

That was least expected. Tristan wasn't sure what he was imagining, but he didn't expect something so personal. He wasn't sure if he were supposed to knock on the door. He wasn't sure where he was supposed to look at all. All the person had left was an address. The blond was beginning to become frustrated with all of this.

"Maybe we should circle the house," Bambi assumed, pulling himself up from the bike.

"And look for what?" the blue-eyed man questioned. He sighed, running a hand through his dyed hair. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of running around aimlessly. We're in so deep; there's no hope for us."

Bambi frowned, thoughtfully staring at the dying grass.

"I say let's drop all of this and run away to France." He grabbed the curly-haired boy's hands, lips pulling into a hopeful smile. "We could start over. We could live life together normally without all of this goverment shit. How does that sound, Bambi?"

"I do not know."

"I just can't do this," Tristan said. "I wasn't made for this. I'm tired of searching."

"I do not know, Tris. I cannot leave unfinished business. There is someone telling you something; you cannot ignore them."

"How do you know that?" Tristan whispered. "All of this could just be some silly trap!"

"You are just losing your head," Bambi claimed. "You are afraid and stressed, and you think that running away will solve everything. But just because you run away doesn't mean what you left will not still be there. There is a puzzle, and someone out there thinks you're capable of piecing it together."

"They're wrong, Bambi."

"I do not think they're wrong." He smiled. "You are intelligent, Tris. You just do not like using your head when you need it most, that's all."

Tristan sighed, running his tongue over his lip piercing. "Did your mind tell you that?"

"No"-he shook his head along with his answer-"I did."

"And what if I piece this puzzle together?" the twenty-one-year-old asked. "Then what?"

"We will cross that bridge once we get to it." He extended his bandage arm out to the older man. "Come on, Tris. We have a house to inspect and I cannot do this alone."

He eyed the curly-haired boy's hand before hesitantly taking it. As he pulled himself onto his shoes, their fingers interlaced tightly around each other's as they neared the dying grass surrounding the house. It was pale grey, vintage styled house. Something about it felt familiar; although, Tristan had never laid eyes on the house at all.

They both made their way through the browning grass, ducking behind the house and walking aimlessly through the backyard. There was a small shed behind it, a little rusty bike lying against the door and a broken swingset. It looked like no one had bothered nearing the place in ages, but with the weird four weeks the twenty-one-year-old had experienced, he wasn't quick to jumping to conclusions.

"We should check the shed," the curly-haired boy suggested. Tristan shrugged and headed over to the shed, a frown making its way on his face at the little lock bounding the two doors together.

"Locked," Tristan murmured. He quickly smiled. "Do you think you can break the lock?"

"Sure."

"Can I help you two?" Bambi and Tristan paused their footsteps, whipping their heads around to a blonde woman standing four feet away from them, questioningly eyeing the two boys.

"Um..." Tristan trailed off, realising he didn't have any words to follow the two-lettered word. All he could do was awkwardly scratch the back of his hair, racking his brain for an explanation. He wondered where the woman had come from. He hadn't seen any cars parked in the driveway when the two had pulled into the parking lot.

"Wait..." She stepped closer to Tristan, too close for comfort, narrowing her eyes at the twenty-one-year-old's face. He nervously darted his eyes around, stiffening as she extended her arms up and pulled his glasses off his face, studying the man's features carefully. "Tristan?" she questioned.

The blue-eyed man slowly looked her up and down. He'd never seen the woman in his life. "What?"

"Tristan!" the blonde exclaimed, embracing the tall man in her arms. Something weird sparked in him - warm and fuzzy. It felt strange. "I've been coming here every day for five years to find you," she said. Tristan widened his eyes at the tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry about everything."

"I'm sorry. I-I don't know you." He ran his tongue along the metal in his lip.

Sadness captured her features. She nodded sadly, handing him back his glasses. He slipped them back on his face. "I know. I just - I know why you're here."

"What?"

"The two clues," she explained. "I'm sure they lead you to the house."

"You've been leaving them?"

"No, but I've been informed." She pulled a key from her pocket and scurried over towards the shed, pushing it into the lock and pulling open the two doors. Tristan could only blankly watch, glancing down at Bambi who shared the same confusion etched on his face. She disappeared into the darkness, movements heard from outside as she searched through it.

"What do you think she's looking for?" Tristan asked.

Bambi shrugged his shoulders before the blonde made her way back outside the shed, an opened box in hand. There was a videocassette recorder placed in the cardboard along with a set of videotapes and two tan folders.

"Um, thanks," the twenty-one-year-old slowly said.

"I know you don't need this but - good luck." She smiled brightly and something about it seemed familiar. "I apologise for how terribly all of this turned out. But hopefully one day you'll remember again."

It was like listening to the words his alleged stalker had told him four weeks ago. And as the stranger pulled him into another familiar embrace Tristan was suddenly hit with a kaleidoscope of incomprehensible images - eight-year-old happily running through a playground into a man's arms, six-year-old him happily snuggling into bed with an unfamiliar man and woman as the woman dictated a book throughout the room, ten-year-old him riding on a bike down the street, smiling widely as the man and woman rode behind him.

Tristan gasped, taking in the woman one last time. "Mum?"