"Oh, shit," Connor muttered through Tristan's ear. Those were two words the twenty-one-year-old was hoping he wouldn't hear after standing outside of the lab door for two minutes—yes, Tristan had been keeping track—waiting for James or Brad to show up in front of the door to let him in. His anxiety was already over the roof. He was worried his boyfriend and James were caught, or Brad got distracted, and that they'd run out of time, that the lights would turn on and the security cameras would catch them trying to sneak a group of experiments out of a government facility.
"Tristan," his best friend lowly spoke again, "not to make you panic or anything, but you should probably—"
Tristan jumped at the sound of a bang, cutting off Connor's sentence completely. The dark-haired boy's heartbeat sped up, and the anxiety twisting in his innards worsened, as if someone was just digging their hand inside of him and ripping up his intestines. "Connor?" Tristan shouted, not worried with whoever heard him. He sucked in a breath, trying to control his asthmatic like breathing. "Connor!"
And just when Tristan thought none of this could get worse, the lights flicked on, and he was met with the long hallway again.
His first instinct was to run, as if it'd lead him to the answer of all the questions buzzing in his head. Tristan didn't even know where he was headed. He was so confused. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of those lab doors, and no one was communicating with him to tell him what happened, or what to do next. This definitely wasn't planned out to happen like this, which Tristan probably should've expected. Of course nothing was going to go as planned. He wondered why he thought it would. Tristan's whole entire life was made up of the unexpected. Just like how he turned a corner, met with a group of agents, ready and pointing their firearms directly at Tristan.
He instantly halted his footsteps and turned to run without even having to think about it. But the man didn't get very far when he turned and dropped to the floor, a scream and a long list of swear words erupting from his throat at the pain in his leg. He tried to hold back the tears he could feel forming in his eyes, but they were already spilling.
"Great seeing you again," a voice spoke. A blurry stranger suddenly stepped forward in the small group. He looked the youngest—around Tristan's age—and the less professional. "I knew you'd come back. Though, it did take you longer than I expected, but actually, this was exactly how I predicted everything. How long was this planned, huh? Years?"
Tristan was suddenly yanked from the ground by two agents. He didn't try to protest. There was a bullethole in his thigh, and whether there was a group of agents circling him or not, the dark-haired boy would always be outnumbered.
"I told you to stay in my office, James," another voice snapped. Tristan didn't have the energy to feel surprised at the man that stood alongside him, the same face that matched the memories that hit him when he figured out who his mother was. Tristan felt pathetic, but he could feel more tears filling his eyes again. This was basically it. He was caught, with no knowledge of his best friend's whereabouts and no knowledge of whatever happened to James and his boyfriend. He just hoped they were okay, even James, who he couldn't really careless about.
"This was really a bad move, though, kid," his dad spoke, letting out a sigh and shaking his head. He honestly looked disappointed, as if he even had the rights to feel that way. "I really thought I raised you better than this."
Tristan wanted to shout about where he was when his son's memory was literally swiped. But he could barely keep his mind in one place with the unbearable pain in his leg, and the terrible image of something bad happening to his boyfriend and his best mate. He didn't know where to put his thoughts; he didn't know what to do. All that felt reasonable was giving up.
"Where's Brad?" was the only thing Tristan could possibly get out.
"... And he still is worried about the robot." The young man sighed. "I guess that needle really didn't do a lot, did it?"
"Quiet, James," Tristan's father said, irritation laced in his voice. "You remember that lab boy?"
"I remember everything," Tristan breathlessly replied. "And he's not a lab boy, or whatever this facility thinks he is. He's a human with a heart, more heart than anyone in here."
His brother, James, laughed hard, and for the first time, Tristan really felt like choking someone.
His father shook his head at Tristan again. "I hate that we had to see each other again in these conditions. But, son, you really should've known who you were messing with. C'mon."
Tristan didn't bother replying as he was dragged away. There really wasn't a reason to.
. . .
Brad felt like his brain was shut off. Everything ached, like he'd been cramped up for hours, but his brain wouldn't send signals to his muscles. It was like being paralysed, and he hated it. He hated being tied down, and he wanted to scream, or break free, but no matter what he did, he couldn't manage to make a sound.
Finally, he groaned, and somehow caused his fingertips to move. It was like his brain was slowly opening up, and he could suddenly feel all of his limbs. But he instantly regretted it, met with more pain than he'd woke up to, until his eyes finally fluttered open.
The twenty-year-old was on his back, and he could automatically tell he was in the lab. But he was located in the operating room, his legs and arms bounded down to a table. He moved to free himself, but a voice stopped him.
"I would suggest you to stay still." Brad let out a gasp and darted his eyes towards the man approaching him. "Not a good idea to jump up after awakening from anesthesia."
"Joe!" Bambi happily called out in a weak voice, a sloppy smile finding his face. He thought that Joe wasn't supposed to be in the building, but he was just relieved to see him. "Can you help me? I have to get to Tristan. Do you know if he is okay?"
"You wouldn't want to know," he claimed, "and it doesn't matter now that you're where you belong."
Bambi obliviously smiled. "Huh?"
"You didn't really expect us to release two-hundred experiments out into the world, did you?" He let out a laugh, shaking his head at the curly-haired boy. "We may have let James and you slip out of this place, but it's a new year. We're smarter than that. There's no way out of here now, Nineteen-Seventeen."
His smile faded as realisation hit him, a realisation he just could not understand. Joe was his friend. At least that was what he thought. Joe was apart of his team. The whole plan had belonged to him, and he was so determined. But apparently all of this determination was just to trick Brad back into the lab. He wondered how one could be so mean to someone. He wondered how someone could manage to pretend to befriend someone, watch them trust them, knowing that soon they were going to betray them. It hurt.
"I thought... I thought you were my friend," Bambi sadly spoke.
"Experiments can't have friends," he harshly replied. "Experiments aren't supposed to have feelings. Experiments are supposed to handle terrorist, and fight for our military. Not fuck around with clueless sons of GBI agents and get their little hopes high that they'll live a life beyond what they actually are."
"I did not ask for this! This is not fair!"
"Fair isn't how you fight for your country," Joe simply said.
"I do not want to be in the military! I want to be with my Tristan!"
"Screaming isn't going to help you, Nineteen-Seventeen." He slipped off his lab coat, scrubs shown underneath as two more doctors in identical clothing entered the room, hair covered and gloves pulled on their hands.
"Where is my Tristan?" the brown-eyed boy questioned, pleading for an answer.
"Tristan left you, Nineteen-Seventeen," he replied, heartless. Bambi could barely breathe, his heart hurt, his everything hurt. He couldn't believe this. Out of everyone, Brad thought Tristan actually cared about him. Tristan said he loved him, Tristan took him in when he had nowhere else to go. He couldn't believe all of that was just a lie. "So, you see, there's no reason to fight now is there?"
Warm tears spilled down Bambi's cheeks as an anesthesia mask was placed over his face. "Now, close your eyes and count to ten."
He fluttered his eyes closed, holding back a sob as he slowly felt himself drifting back into a state of unconsciousness.
. . .
"What do you remember from before the last five years of your life?" an agent questioned with a stone expression. Tristan had been in interrogation for what felt like forever. Apparently they weren't satisfied with any of his answers, because they kept repeating the same question. Tristan felt like punching someone, or crying. He wasn't sure which one to choose, but crying felt like the easiest.
"I already told you." Tristan let out a sigh, running a hand over his face. "The deal was that if I answer some questions, you'd tell me where Brad is."
"Nineteen-Seventeen has been brought back to where he is supposed to be," the agent simply replied. "And for you, we're not quite sure where that is yet."
"I'm supposed to be with Brad," Tristan informed her. "I have to see him; I have to be with him."
"Unfortunately that is not possible," she said. "Brad is in the middle of an operation, and he will fall back into his duty as a weapon for the military."
Tristan closed his eyes. I failed him, he thought. It seemed like all the hard work they put into this mission was just for Tristan to get shot in the thigh and to lose his boyfriend again. He could see the disappointment in Brad eyes; he could see fear and pain... It wasn't fair.
None of this was fair.
"This isn't right!" Tristan shouted. He didn't know where all this anger came from, or where the courage to yell at someone a part of the government came from, but he was jumping onto his feet despite the pain in his thigh, shouting at someone that could easily end him any second. "He has feelings! He has a heart! He cries, he laughs, he breathes, and he loves, like a human being. But I'm sure none of you know what that is! I'm sure none of you know what it's like to even love someone, or have a heart!"
Tristan kept shouting as he felt himself being grabbed and dragged away once again today. He didn't care, though. They had his boyfriend, sending him back into a place where he wasn't treated like the angel he was. Tristan thrashed against the strong hold on him, releasing every bit of anger held within him. It didn't matter what they did to him, or where they'd take him. He didn't care about anything. Anything except his little Bambi.
. . .
"Tris, I am scared," the fifteen-year-old cried. He clung onto Tristan like a limpet, sobbing into his chest. "I cannot be without you. I cannot, I cannot, I cannot!"
Tristan shushed him, and held him close, trying to pretend to be strong despite the fear coursing throughout his body. They went through so much, they'd went so far, and now they were ending up exactly where they were running away from. "Everything is going to be okay like I told you, yeah? It's okay. Stop crying, please. I love you, and you love me, remember?"
"I hate this, Tris! This is not fair!"
"It isn't," Tristan agreed. He kissed the tip of his curls, feeling tears building in his eyes at the sight of uniformed GBI agents lined up outside of the hotel door from the window. They had their guns pointed towards the door, exchanging glances for the perfect time to barge in. "Brad, remember that song we danced to?"
He sniffed. "The day we left the lab?"
"Yes, that's the one," Tristan confirmed, smoothing down his curls. "I want you to hum that for me, love, okay? And then you won't feel so scared anymore."
Brad nodded and buried his face in his shirt, humming in between sobs as Tristan gently rubbed circles in his back. The sixteen-year-old allowed tears to escape his eyes, and fluttered them closed to darkness before the door was kicked in, and he could hear angry shouts, shouting orders, shouting for the two teenage boys to put their hands up.
"Tristan!" Brad screamed. The blond snapped his eyes open to his boyfriend being snatched from behind. The small boy easily jerked away from the grip, and ran back to his boyfriend, crawling into the older boy's lap.
"Brad, you have to go," the blue-eyed boy softly told him.
"No!" Brad sobbed even harder, tightly wrapping his arms around his neck.
"You have to go. You have to listen to them. They won't hurt us if we listen."
"No! I will not leave you! I will not!"
Tristan felt his heart breaking, tears hysterically spilling down his cheeks. "I love you," he said as he felt a rough hold on his arm, yanking him away from the love of his life.
"NO!" the brown-eyed boy screamed. Tristan could no longer hold anything back. He allowed himself to sob, watching his boyfriend fighting off as many agents as he could to get to him.
"I love you!" Tristan repeated as he was dragged out of the room. "I'm coming back for you, baby! I promise!"
"TRISTAN!" he heard Brad's strangled cry as he was faced away from the painful scene in front of him. He could still hear that single scream as he was thrown to the ground, his arm uncomfortably twisted behind his back as cold cuffs were suddenly snapped around his wrist.
And in a moment where everything seemed hopeless, Tristan had hope. They'd find each other some day. He knew no matter what, their hearts would find a way. Because they loved each other, and that was one thing that no one could take away from them.
. . .
WELP, THAT'S THE END.
I'm pretty sure a lot of you want to kill me right now. I'm sorry, guise. I hurt your hearts because I love you x
JUST SO YOU KNOW TRISTAN'S BROTHER ISN'T JAMES MCVEY. I MEANT JAMES EVANS, JUST IN CASE SOME OF YOU DON'T KNOW A LOT ABOUT TRISTAN IRL AND THOUGHT THERE WAS LIKE SOME MAJOR PLOT TWIST LMAO.
I'm really going to miss this story :( But thanks to everyone who has read it. Love you guyyysss!!!