When the Clouds Fell

Chapter 20: In Which Hayden Gives Up

Little heads up: there's an author's note at the end (dw it's not sad).

~🐍~

Mr. Hemingway paced, running his fingers through his hair. He had an ounce of sanity left but it quickly wore thin. "It's over. It's over," he muttered, "I've botched my own plan. At this rate Noah's never going to do anything for me."

Bea and Seb sat and watched him—this man that they had known their entire lives. He had always seemed so composed and calm. If Seb put it into words, he would say that he hoped nothing would happen to them as a result of this. If Bea put it into words, she would say that it was f***ing hilarious to seem him losing it.

"D-don't worry," Seb tried, and failed, to sound confident. "We'll keep an eye out for the rest of them. We know where at least five of them are."

Mr. Hemingway turned his icy eyes to him. "That still leaves five unaccounted for. Five loose cannons are a risk I'm not willing to take."

"I think you need to chill a little." Bea snorted. "You're starting to actually look your age with all the wrinkles between your eyebrows." She leered at him. "Listen to Seb for once, old man. Those five aren't loose cannons. I can assure you that they care too much about each other to do anything stupid. They'll all come right back once they figure out that their precious siblings are here."

Mr. Hemingway's shoulders lowered as he let out a breath. "You're right," he said, coming to a stop. "I'll wait for them. I'll wait for them right here." He fiddled with his golden watch. "Now that I think about it, it's about time I upped Noah's dosage anyway. Yeah, that'll keep him in check. That'll do it for sure."

Seb tried his best to ignore the queasiness in his stomach as he watched the man leave.

~🐍~

Hayden trudged through a laminated corridor. Everything was blinding and white and smelled pristine. He dragged his finger across the shiny tiled walls, counting the number of white squares in his head carelessly, and messing up his total more than a few times.

He was bored.

After the conundrum of yesterday, he and Noah had taken a taxi to get to a place Noah desperately wanted to return to. They had knocked out after blindly searching for a room in dark. And slept for twelve hours straight. It was now afternoon, and Noah was nowhere in sight.

Hayden found himself in the place he least expected to see again: the abandoned hospital. The place where Mr. Hemingway's function had been held just a few nights ago. The place where he, Vince, and Karen had—had what? Gotten their a*ses handed to them? Been viciously attacked?

With a sigh, he resumed counting the tiles.

As much as he wanted to dwell on their horrible excuse for a fight against Beatrice, he knew that there was no use. The past was the past. He could not change anything from it. He could not bring his mother back to life. He could not beg her to let him stay with her. He could not restart his relationship with the McLeods. He could not undo the damage his apathy had done to Marie and Noah. He could not force himself to fight Bea and protect Karen and Vince instead of freezing up. He could not make Yasha inject only him with whatever was in that syringe.

A groaning sound emanated from around him, halting his brooding thoughts. He stopped in front of what appeared to be a kitchen, pausing on tile #345 and cautiously stepping in.

Hayden could feel a feeling he had never felt before. He was drawn to the dripping sink in a slow trance, thrilled by the sight of water dribbling out of the spout. The closer he got, the stronger the flow seemed to become. Until he stood before a fully running faucet without having touched the taps.