The blue-eyed man sucked in a breath at the computer monitor across from him. He'd been struggling to find ways to fill up his time without the curly-haired boy alongside him, but that morning, he'd realised there were still political magazines he needed to inform of the lab and beg to publish. He was nervous about this whole thing. Whenever he thought of himself he didn't see a hero. Heroes were brave. And even though Tristan felt sort of brave slipping photographs into envelopes and typing long e-mails about something he was so scared wouldn't work out the way he hoped, he knew he wasn't a hero. Although, he did feel very selfless.
Tristan had always liked helping people out. It made him feel happy seeing other people happy, and imagining people finally being able to find themselves on their own made him very happy. But he was so afraid that he'd only make it worse for the humans. As soon as the lab is known to the media, the government could make life even more miserable from them. Tristan didn't want that. And even though they wouldn't know it was him that made their life miserable, Tristan would always know, and it'd only make him feel worse.
Sixteen-year-old Tristan had a plan though. He'd wanted Tristan to sneak into the headquarters and free all the experiments. Him - out of all people. He could see why past Tristan believed he were so worthy and perfect for the job, because he probably expected now Tristan to turn out the exact same way as himself. But the twenty-one-year-old was evidently nothing like that, and he'd wished that he could tell teenage him that he was absolutely not qualified for any of this. Tristan Evans was bland. He didn't do spontaneous things, he didn't chase after mysteries and excitement. And although his life was involuntarily becoming a bit more colourful, he was in desperate need for it to fall back into its smudges of grey and black.
But Bambi was spontaneous, and Tristan needed so badly for him to come back.
Tristan rested his chin on a hand, nervously drumming his fingers on the library's computer desk. He wondered if he should send the e-mail now or later. He wanted to. But only because he wanted to hand the problem over to someone who wasn't himself, and he assumed that wasn't a good reason. He knew when he sent it he had to feel like he were doing this for other people, and not himself.
Blowing out a long breath of air, he pulled his hand away from his chin and gripped the mouse, saving the e-mail as a draft instead. It wasn't too late to send it, and he would instantly do it after he was sure it would absolutely positively not affect the people whose lives already suck enough.
Tristan pushed his dyed hair back with a hand before pulling it away and allowing it to fall back above his eyebrow. He hoped he were doing the right thing as he powered down the computer and stood up onto his red sneakers, trudging out of the large building into the dull morning. The sun hid behind the clouds, and according to the how grey it looked, Tristan had a feeling it'd start raining soon. He pocketed his hands and quickened his footsteps to the bus stop.
As soon as he returned to the hotel, he automatically threw off his glasses and fell backwards onto the recently made up bed, looking up at the white ceiling expressionless. He never thought he'd miss the brown-eyed boy so much. He hadn't returned after two nights. Tristan was so worried. He didn't know where he was or what condition he was in. He knew no one could've done anything to him. He could easily protect himself, but he was so worried he was lost or somewhere in a hospital, which was so out of the box, but not impossible.
The blond let out a groan, kicking off his sneakers and sending them flying somewhere in the hotel room before he's rolling over onto his side. He fluttered his eyes closed into darkness as the sound of rain patted down above the ceiling. The rain made him think of his flat and its shitty ceiling. He'd forgotten that he actually had a home. He really needed to go back to his flat, even though he didn't feel safe being inside of it. But after being shot at and almost injected with a needle he had no idea what would do to him, there wasn't much that scared him anymore.
As sleep slowly began taking over him, he heard the doorknob jiggle. He quickly jumped up from his lying position, eyesight foggy as he scrambled around the room for a weapon. After all Tristan had been through, he'd never thought about having a weapon just in case something happened. It wasn't like he expected someone to try attack him in his sleep, but then again, there he was.
The door unlocked. Tristan ripped the lamp's cord out of the outlet and snatched it up into his hands. He stood alert and ready, positioning the lamp ready to throw before the door pushed open and Tristan's weapon slipped from his fingertips and onto the carpeted floor.
"BAMBI!" the twenty-one-year-old screamed at the top of his lungs. He charged for the small boy in the doorway and jumped on top of him. Brad easily caught him in his arms as Tristan pulled him in his embrace, squeezing the curly-haired boy a little tighter than necessary.
"Tris," he quietly spoke, "you are cutting off my air circulation."
"I missed you." Tristan pressed their noses together into an eskimo kiss. "I missed you so much. Don't ever run away again! We need each other, remember?"
He carefully placed Tristan back onto his feet, closing the door behind the two of them. "I am sorry. I was going to come back an hour later, but -"
The older boy silenced him with his lips, placing two hands on Brad's chest and pushing his body against the wall. The same inexplicable feeling from the first time returned, fluttering his heart and twisting inside of his stomach as the shorter boy reciprocated his actions, soft lips caressing his own. Bambi ran a hand up his chest before resting it on the dark-haired boy's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Just by that one touch, a tingling sensation shot through Tristan's shoulder, travelling all the way down to his arms and hands and to his legs. He hesitantly pulled his lips away, resting his forehead against the shorter boy's and sucking in a breath before their lips were quickly together again. The blue-eyed boy placed a hand on the side of his face and reluctantly brushed his tongue against his mouth, expecting the younger boy to part his lips. Instead, he bit him.
"Ow!" Tristan shouted into Brad's mouth. He jumped back from him, clapping a hand over his lips. "What the fuck? You bit my tongue!"
He frowned. "I am sorry. You misplaced it."
"I was trying to put it in your mouth!" he explained. He let out a groan as a metallic taste filled his mouth. "Fuck, I'm bleeding."
"Why would you place your tongue in my mouth?"
"French kissing?"
"Oh." Brad nodded slowly in understanding. "I do not think our romantic relationship is ready to take that international step."
"Romantic relationship?"
"Oh, yes, you are my boyfriend now, Tris!" He smiled widely. "Connor told me all about romantic relationships at breakfast!"
"Connor? My friend Connor?"
"Yes! He and his friend kidnapped me. Connor drove me here so I can get you, too."
"Wait - Connor kidnapped you?"
"And James," he added. "But I had a wonderful time! Connor let me listen to rap music and the king of pop, and then Joe showed me all the pressure points on the human body before taking us all out for ice-cream! I had vanilla with blueberries and bananas!"
"Wait - you had ice-cream in November?"
"Yes, Tristan. I am speaking English, am I not?"
"Wait - if Connor kidnapped you, where is he now?"
"He's waiting in the aircraft for us," Bambi informed him. "We have to prepare to sneak into the GBI headquarters and free the experiments! Well, you have to prepare. You are weak. That could be a problem for us."
"Bambi," he carefully said, "what are you talking about?"
"We are in an anti-government group!" the brown-eyed boy exclaimed. "Get your things. Like I said, Connor is waiting for us."
. . .
"Whoa, I didn't even recognise you," Connor stated, eyeing his best mate's new appearance with a surprised smile. "Lip ring? I never thought you'd have it in you, mate."
"I deserve an explanation," Tristan told him, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows angrily furrowed. He didn't understand how his best mate was tangled into all of this. He thought his parents were the only people that had lied to him in his life, and now his co-worker was basically added into that bunch.
"Right." Connor let out a long sigh. "Tristan... I know everything about you. I've known everything about you since you turned nineteen, and the only reason I applied for a job at the bookstore was to spy on you. But I did it for a good reason. I needed to keep a close eye on you, because you were the only person who had the power to stop the government."
Tristan nodded, letting his words sink in. "So," he said, "does this mean you know who my stalker is?"
"Stalker?" Connor questioned.
"The guy who was standing by my car. The guy you asked me about, remember?"
"The one that put me in Tristan's trunk," Bambi chimed in. Tristan glanced at him and nodded.
"Oh. Him." He nervously nibbled his lip. "We can always discuss that another time. You should probably hop in the car, we have a lot of preparation to do."
"Humph, okay then, but I'm riding shotgun."
"Shotgun?" Brad questioned.
"In the front," Connor explained.
"But I like riding in the front!" the curly-haired boy whined.
Tristan ended up not riding in the front. Instead, he sat in the back whilst Bambi and Connor jammed out to every song the radio played. The blue-eyed man stared out into the darkness, thinking deeply about everything. He still couldn't wrap his head around the insanity his life had become. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that his best mate had been practically stalking him since he was nineteen-years-old. He'd been so fearful all this time over something he couldn't see, over something he could only ever feel, when he really should've been fearful of the boy that stood alongside him every Wednesday and Thursday.
He wondered if whenever he felt eyes burning into him whether they belonged to Connor or the stranger who could've placed Bambi in his trunk. All of this was confusing him, and Tristan didn't want to think about it. He just closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take over him. He badly needed it. After waking up constantly in his sleep for two nights, worrying about the curly-haired boy, he was exhausted. Now that he knew Bambi was okay he easily allowed his conscious to go on hold just for a little.