bambi eyes || tradley

25. remember

The brown-eyed boy frowned at the question.

"Hey, hey, hey, no hurting Bambi, you... assface," Tristan quickly interjected. He protectively wrapped an arm around his boyfriend and pushed the cup of ice-cream into one of his small hands. "That hit a sensitive spot."

"You better not be sick," Joe warned Connor who was still struggling to recover from being attacked. "We need you."

"I'm fine," the nineteen-year-old replied with a careless wave of the hand. He quickly buried his face in his sleeve, air expelling from his nose once again followed by a sniff. Connor innocently smiled at the three boys.

Bambi frowned. "Oh, no."

"I'm not sick!" he argued.

"He's sick," Tristan said, frowning.

Connor rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, guys."

"He's in denial," the twenty-one-year-old notified the two boys.

Joe sighed once again. "Really, Connor? You chose this time out of all to be sick?"

"My weak immune system is not my fault." He pressed a hand to his throat, frowning as he loudly cleared it. "And also, if I remember correctly, I wasn't the one who decided to be on the shirtless team during November!"

"No, do not argue, please!" Bambi begged the two boys as Joe raised a finger to state a response in his defense. "Stop the madness! We are all friends here!"

"We can't have you sneezing all over the place when we go in there," Joe muttered, clapping a hand over his face. He slowly dragged it down, letting out a long, discontented sigh.

"Maybe someone can fill in for me," Connor suggested with a shrug.

Joe frowned. "There is no one else."

"How about Tristan?" the curly-haired offered with an excited smile. The three boys widened their eyes at the suggestion, instantly shaking their heads in response.

"It's already going to be disastrous having him in there. Just imagine him trying to be the distraction," Connor said. He let out a laugh at the imagination that only turned into a seemingly painful coughing fit.

"I think he will do well," Brad said, frowning at the coughing boy. "Why do you think my Tristan is not qualified?"

"Um, because it's me we're talking about," Tristan told him. "And anyway, we shouldn't need a fill in. If we're sticking to the plan, Connor isn't even really going to do a lot."

"But if something happens how will he defend himself?" the brown-eyed boy asked. "I will not be there for cardiopulmonary resuscitation!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Connor muttered.

"Con will be just fine," Tristan said, giving his best mate a pat on the back. But he wasn't quite sure about that. He could only hope. There was no possible way Tristan could be the distraction. He was only the code guy. Anything beyond that the twenty-one-year-old knew he couldn't handle it.

. . .

"James," the twenty-year-old softly whispered into the sleeping boy's ear, "wake up."

The two words worked like magic. The older boy instantly jumped away, quickly pulling himself up from his pillow and frantically darting his eyes around the room. They eventually landed on a pair of brown eyes, a frown making its way on his face at Bambi's presence. "Oh," he muttered, scowling at the small boy. "Why are you in my bed?"

"We need to talk," Brad quietly explained. He handed him a chocolate bar. "You need to do the talking, just in case you are confused."

James pushed the chocolate bar back into his hand. "There's nothing I have to say to you."

"I disagree," the curly-haired boy replied, handing the bar back to him. "James, this is not a secret for you to keep. I need to know how you know my name."

"Get out of my bed, get out of my room, and take back your fucking chocolate."

Brad only followed the last instruction. "What else do you know about me?" Brad inquired. "I need to know."

"You're so annoying!" James shouted at him. "Fuck off!"

A frown tugged on the younger boy's thin lips. "I am right here. You do not need to shout, James."

"Actually, I do." The agitated man quickly scurried out of the bed, letting out an exasperated sigh at the curly-haired under his blankets. "How does Tristan put up with you? You are such a pest!"

"My Tristan says he loves me just the way I am," the curly-haired boy informed him with furrowed brows. He pulled himself onto his feet as James hurriedly stepped into pajamas bottoms. "Please do not run away. I need to know."

"There's nothing for you to know." Bambi chased after him as he rushed to the door, pulling it open to Connor stumbling inside. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head at the two boys. "Really, Con? Eavesdropping?"

"You need to tell him," he simply responded.

James ran a hand through his cut hair. "Esto no se trata de ti, Connor." [This isn't about you, Connor]

"La historia no se repetirá," [History will not repeat itself] he claimed. "Finalmente vamos a tener la oportunidad de hacer las cosas bien, y no va a ser una posibilidad de perderlo." [We're finally going to have the chance to make things right, and there's not going to be a possibility of you losing him.]

"Él ya se ha ido," [He's already gone] he replied, pushing past the shorter boy.

"É merece saber," [He deserves to know] he stated after him. "No va a cambiar nada." [It's not going to change anything]

The older boy whipped back around. "¡Exactamente!" [Exactly] he shouted, startling the two boys. "¿Por qué debería hablarle de algo que nunca va a ser capaz de recordar?" [Why would I tell him about something he'll never be able to remember?]

"You do not know that," the curly-haired boy chimed in.

Connor's brows shot up at the small boy in surprise. "You understood all of that, Nineteen-Seventeen?"

"Of course he did, Con. We're practically the same," James muttered before pushing past the younger boy and leaving the house altogether. Brad watched the doorknob, eyebrows knitted together. He slowly looked to Connor for maybe an explanation, but the younger boy had only shrugged his shoulders, turning away to make his way back to his bedroom.

"Connor," Brad sung, pausing the younger boy's footsteps, "what did he mean? What might I not remember?"

"I would tell you but..." He trailed off, giving the brown-eyed man another shrug. "It's not exactly for me to tell, sorry."

Brad nodded, a defeated sigh crossing his lips as Connor left into the bedroom. It was beginning to irritate him how much he didn't know. Just when he thought he had his past all figured out, something else always came in to show him that he didn't.