Citizen

Chapter twenty-two // Ethan

The pair exchanged a glance. After a long moment, Kyra gave in. "I don't know. Why?"

"It got mugged." At their blank stares, he added, "You know, because it got put in a mug? It was, like, mugged..."

Kyra pursed her lips to hide a smile. "Oh, don't worry. We got it."

Boomer's head fell into his hands. "That was terrible. Like, seriously terrible. Like, 'I want to shove my head in a coffee grinder' terrible. You really do need some caffeine."

"He'd pass out in the hall, there's no way he'd make it to the kitchen." Kyra's forehead furrowed.

Boomer looked him up and down. "I'm hungry anyway. Want anything, Ky?"

"Something salty, please," she said with a grin.

Before Ethan could object, Boomer sped out of the room and out of sight. It occurred to him after Boomer left that his best mate had eaten only an hour ago, and although Boomer could eat for hours on end and not be full, that trip was more about Ethan than him. Warmth clutched his chest at the thought.

Kyra smiled at him as she placed the token back on the board. "What have you been up to lately?"

"Nothing, really, just the usual, you know." He spoke too quickly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. At her raised brows, he slowed his words, and added, "Inventing, drawing, helping my mother with her Head Controller duties." The lie tasted acrid on his tongue.

"That doesn't explain the dark circles under your eyes." She reached out to touch his shoulder, forehead crumpled in concern. Something tugged painfully at his chest. How could he lie to her when she cared about him so much? The answer was simple: he had to. She couldn't know what he knew, not if his plan was to work.

"It takes a lot out of me considering I hardly ever see the sun."

Kyra nodded, her hand dropping back to her lap. Based on the colour around her eyes, he wasn't the only one who'd had a few sleepless nights. "So you draw?" she asked.

"Mhmm. Comic sketches at the moment - minus the words."

She frowned. "What? I thought the words were the most important part of a comic book. How do you know what to draw without them?" That was the main difference between them: Kyra believed in language, in the power of a single sentence or simile to change someone's life. He, on the other hand, preferred actions and tangible things. Words could always be backspaced, but the imprint of a drawing on paper left a mark not easily removed.

"I dunno, I've never really relied on words. Things I can see though, things that are real - I've always trusted them." He shrugged, shoulders shaking as he laughed softly. "My drawings are pretty bad though."

"Why do you say that?"

"Everything I do turns out looking like a machine. Boxy, sharp. One time the villian I was drawing legit had a square head. No matter what, my mind always comes back to inventing."

She smiled to herself. "I get what you mean. It's like when I write, the characters all have bits and pieces of people I'm close to in real life. Guess whatever we create stems from what we're passionate about."

"Yeah that makes sense." Smirking, he added, "Wait, what about Boomer? Ninety percent of what he makes explodes."

"I don't think anyone's ever doubted how much he likes to blow stuff up," she giggled. He couldn't help but notice the pale bruises on her skin, not yet faded from that night on the train, yellow and green mixing with her tawny complexion. He hoped helping her then would make up for what he had to do soon. Hoped she would be able to forgive him in the end for having to do it alone. Ethan was sure Boomer would understand his need for closure, but Kyra? Not so much. And he knew exactly why.