chapter twenty-three:
Caelum's suspicions were correct. He didn't sleep much that night ― but not because Peter liked to talk at the wee hours of the morning. He couldn't sleep because of the proximity of the boy, he couldn't sleep because of the hot air he blew on his neck so subtly, so quietly, that it made his heart pound loud enough for the entire city to hear. He couldn't sleep because at one point, Peter moved in his easy sleep, draping an arm over Caelum and tugging him close.
He couldn't sleep because immediately after that happened, his. . . lower areas became wide awake.
He couldn't sleep because he could smell Peter's fragrance ― shea butter lotion, he was never going to use that lotion again. He couldn't sleep because he could hear Peter murmur a small, nearly insignificant “Cael. . .” under his breath.
He couldn't sleep because his eyes went wide and his lower regions suddenly got hot and loud.
Caelum couldn't sleep because he forced himself to ease out of the boy's warm, strong grip ― he could spend years being held like that with this boy. He instead slept on the floor.
Or, tried to sleep on the floor.
He couldn't sleep because the floor was so hard and cold and Peter was soft and warm. He imagined Peter, his image, his being, in his head. He imagined Peter holding him tight ― deliberately ― and never letting go.
He imagined Peter loving him just as much as Caelum loved Peter. He imagined kissing Peter.
It was a long night. Caelum didn't sleep at all. And when the sun rose, so did he. He went to the bathroom, washing his face. Then, he decided to take a hasty shower. He rubbed his curly, dark hair dry and grabbed some clothes. When he came out of the bathroom, Peter was still asleep. It was nearly six AM, the only people up at this time was Sarah and Dorri, and they were just barely there.
Caelum stepped down the steps softly, speaking a mild good morning to the two women as a few early customers came in and soon out of the shops, brandishing coffees and morning pastries. “I'm going to take a walk,” he announced and the two women nodded. He left the Café.
The sun wasn't very high, but it was bright. A few clouds lingered and so did the moon, quite stubbornly. The cars on the street were beginning to start their early morning wake up call ― one that Caelum was accustomed to and found a bit comforting. A chilly breeze blew past, but that was just New York for you, it would get warmer later on in the day, he thought.
He walked, hands in his pockets, eyes surveying the early birds of the city. The people were a bit scarce, some of them were joggers, others sitting on benches reading newspapers. A few homeless people shuffled about, eyes downcast and arms folded.
Traffic was moving at an average pace, cars getting by a bit faster than usual due to the earliness of the morning. A few taxis made their way down the street, some of them had their light on, others didn't, a few small cars also turned around the corners or came out of garages, ready to reluctantly start morning. There was a large black van that drove a bit slower than the others.
Caelum ignored the sound of the cars and turned the corner, there was a park nearby and he didn't mind walking around there. He was tired and needed some fresh air and some time to think.
His father said that someone was coming with his mother's inheritance. He also threatened to kill Caelum if he didn't bail him out. Caelum hadn't pressed charges against him when he was arrested, but he was still in jail for child abuse ― the evidence was stacked too high. He would be about in about four to five years, but he wanted to be out now.
And then there was the ghost, in the same position. Why didn't he help her instead? She could do a lot more than his father could.
That was a lie. She couldn't, but it would make him feel better if she was there.
Or, he could simply take the money and leave. Just move himself and the boys somewhere safe. It was enough to get them all overseas. He could find his mother's family, live there, far, far away from his father and the ghost.
But, he'd also be far away from Peter too. Caelum could trick himself to live without Peter, he could fool himself into forgetting the boy. But, he didn't want to. He wanted Peter ― desperately. And Peter wanted him here. He couldn't leave him that easily, that quickly.
Not without saying goodbye, at least.
He needed to find out what he was going to do. He needed to find a way to live. He was in charge now his parents were gone and nobody was going to help him and his brothers but himself.
He stopped at the corner. There were no cars coming in either direction, but he wasn't in a rush to get anywhere. He waited for the light to change, wondering when it would be a good time to go back to work ― if Sarah and Dorri would even let him. Did they think he would need time to mourn? He didn't have time to mourn, not with everything going on.
A car stopped beside him and the door slid open. He vaguely recognized it as the slow black van. Then, someone was grabbing him by the shoulders, yanking him inside as the van sped off.
He didn't even get the opportunity to speak.
° · ° · ° · °
The black van and it's occupants were. . . interesting. For the most part, they did their job, kidnapping him, well. He was proficiently duct-taped and silenced. His eyes covered by a questionable smelling bandana ― or rag, he wasn't sure ― and his arms bound with zip-ties.
Then, Caelum was tossed helplessly ― pathetically ― in the back of the truck as they moved. Sometimes, they spoke, correcting directions to the designated driver, other times, they talked in whispered tones with one another.
Caelum wanted to ask where he was going, why someone was dragging him away, and if his father was behind this. He was pretty sure his father thought he was dead ― after that stunt at the repass ― but maybe he did leave him alive for someone to find him? Or he hadn't initially meant to take his life, or at least try to?
He was quickly getting his answers when the car came to an abrupt halt. The thugs ― because that was exactly what these men were ― carried him out of the back. Caelum wondered if he looked like an infant ready to be fed, by the way the men held him.
It made him angry and embarrassed. He was tired and wanted to sleep. He ― potentially ― had work in the afternoon and a mother to grieve. He didn't have time to be taken out on involuntary playdates with mysterious people!
He was kindly set in a chair ― and by that he meant rather roughly, and then straightened as an afterthought. Someone took the sweat-scented bandana off his eyes, he was sure to get pink eye later, and ripped the tape off his lips. The zip-ties stayed on, unfortunately, and when Caelum blinked to recognize the room, he wished they were off.
He was in an office space, one he didn't recognize but that didn't matter. Principal Davis sat across from him.
Caelum hadn't seen the man in months. He was smiling, but he was well-versed with that smile. He was infuriated, and he was going to die because of it. Caelum remembered the last time he saw Principal Davis, the same night everything he loved practically went to shit. All because of him, all because the man said he had a partial scholarship ― that Peter Parker had the full scholarship.
And now he was sitting in front of him, sipping a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee.
Caelum was going to be sick.
“Mr. Forest, I am glad you could join me today.” He closed his eyes briefly, as if it would help him ignore the man in front of him. As if he would go away. “I am sorry for the. . . unusual way of you being brought here ― I didn't believe you would be willing to see reason and sit down with me.” He paused for a moment, thinking, “Well, not with Mr. Parker whispering nonsense in your ear. My condolences for you mother. How have you been?”
Caelum didn't want to answer him. He didn't want to be here. He remembered all that time in this man’s office, all that he had given to him, this school year and the last. Why couldn't he be satisfied? Why couldn't he leave him alone?
“I asked you a question, Mr. Forest,” Principal Davis said, with a more. . . sinsister feel to it.
“I. . .” the words choked in his throat. He wanted to cry. He didn't want to be here, “I ha–have been well.”
“And your brothers? I heard they witnesses the attack ― pity.”
He swallowed hard, he didn't want this man talking about his brothers. “They're. . . they are fine. . .”
Principal Davis nodded solemnly, “That is good. Now,” he clapped his hands and Caelum flinched in his seat, his bonded hands feeling clammy. “Straight to business. With your father in jail and your mother deceased, nobody will be there to take guardianship of you and your brothers.” Caelum didn't like where this was going. “And I am sure you wouldn't want them to go into the foster system and get, well, swept away, now wouldn't you?”
“N–No, sir.”
“Good!” He smiled, “Then, I will take guardianship, your brothers will live with me and my wife, and you―”
“No!” Caelum shouted. He was wanted his brothers nowhere near this man. “No, they won't. I won't allow it, they―”
“Did I say you could speak!?” Principal Davis snapped, his words booming loudly in the room. Obviously, he wasn't concerned about disturbing anyone.
“I. . . I apologize,” he murmured, and Principal Davis smiled.
“I understand your worry, Mr. Forest. You wish to protect your brothers, and I commend that. No harm will come to your brothers while you are under my care. In fact, you three can be moved to a separate housing, if you feel that it would be better for you.”
“I don't,” Caelum swallowed. “I don't want to live with you, sir. We, my brothers and I, we are fine our own.”
Principal Davis’ eyes narrowed. Then, he sighed, and stood. Caelum gave a small whimper as the man approached him, waddling close to his side. He shut his eyes tight the man gently caressed his cheek. “I am trying to help you, Mr. Forest. Do you understand that?” Caelum nodded. He wanted to be away from this man. Away from this place. He wanted to be gone.
“But, I can see it is causing you distress. How about this, your brothers can be left in Queens, if those coffeeshop women are willing to take them in. If,” he grabbed his chin, Caelum winced. “You come with me. You can be in a separate house, I'll get an apartment all for you and me. And, you can even go back to school ― do you like that? It's not far at all from the school. You can be back with all your friends, but only if you do exactly as I say.”
“I don't want to―” He hit him. Somehow, Caelum forgot how hard this man could hit. It didn't sting, like his father's, it burned. His head snapped away and he gasped, moving his tied hands to his face, as if it would help heal the attack.
“I am being reasonable!” Principal Davis snarled, yanking him from the seat and throwing him on the floor. Caelum feel with a thud, unable to pick himself up and move because of the zip-ties. “I am trying to help you miserable―!” He stomped on his chest. Caelum let out a gasp, curling in on himself, wishing he had his hands so he could protect his head. “Whining! Ungrateful child!”
“I–I–I’m sorry! Please! I'm sorry!” He begged, god it hurt so much. He vaguely remembered his father’s beating and how bad that had been.
Principal Davis stopped and stood a bit straighter. “Here is what's going to happen. You're going to pack your things ― actually, no, don't pack your things. You're just going to come with me. We're going to get you settled and then you will clean yourself up for me, alright?” Caelum held in a sob. He didn't ― he didn't want to do this.
“Please,” he begged, shaking his head, he had to try. “Please, I don't. . . please. . .”
“Do you understand me?” Caelum closed his eyes. He wanted all this to just disappear. To go away. To leave him alone.
He nodded, sniffing. “Good.” Principal Davis hoisted him up, sitting him in the chair again. Caelum leaned against it, and Principal Davis caressed his cheek again. “I’ve missed you, Mr. Forest. I'm glad you're coming back to us.”
Caelum didn't look at the man. He kept his gaze on the ground. “Yes, sir.”
° · ° · ° · °
It didn't take Principal Davis long to buy an apartment ― or really, to buy some young college student out of their apartment. It was already furnished and quite nice, if the forty-year-old man wasn't behind him.
Caelum was shaking, he's never been so scared in his life. Principal Davis had took the zip-ties off of him and let him walk around. He knew Caelum wasn't going to leave ― it was at least a four hour walk back to Queens from Hell’s Kitchen, and he didn't have money for any kind of transit.
Principal Davis said that he'd send a letter to Dorri and Sarah saying that he'd give them money ― a lot of money ― for taking in Castor and Pollux. Caelum also assumed he had somehow paid off his social worker, or something.
At this point, Caelum didn't know ― he couldn't. Principal Davis said that if he was good, if he did as he was told, he’d be able to see his brothers. Caelum couldn't live without them ― he needed to be able to see them again.
So he listened, he obeyed, he followed directions. He did as he was told. Principal Davis brought him clothes to wear and told him to wash up, he did. He showered he took as long as he could before the man was knocking on the door. Then, he dressed. It was a Midtown High uniform, and it was a bit big.
Caelum stepped out of the bathroom and Principal Davis smiled wide. He liked him like this.
Caelum realized he was shaking. He realized that tears were threatening to fall down his face. He discreetly wiped them away as Principal Davis led him to a bedroom.
“Please,” he tried one last time. His voice was small, so different from his usual mature, outspoken self. It was small because he was scared. He wanted to go home. “Please, I don't—I don't want to do this.”
Principal Davis shot a look at him. Then, he began to unbutton his clothes ― all his clothes. “Get on the bed.”
° · ° · ° · °
Caelum didn't scream. But, he did cry softly, keeping his eyes shut the entire time. He didn't like this. He hated him. He didn't like it and he didn't want it, but it was no use with him, with Principal Davis.
He cleaned up, he scrubbed himself down, until good skin began to fray from the rough cloth. He changed his clothes, another uniform, just a bit bigger than his size.
He stared at the clothes he wore. The bright yellow blazer seemed to be dulled in his eyes. The blue logo seemed to hold a lot less colour than it used to. The beige pants felt like fire against his worn out knees and battered body.
How did this happen? He remembered being too embarrassed to sleep next to Peter, now he was sleeping with his Principal, and for what? He couldn't say no, the man would kill him.
He had to go back to Midtown too. He didn't want to see his classmates, hear their unspoken questions. He didn't want to to see Peter, who would be confused why he left and never came back, and why Caelum couldn't talk to him ― that was one of Principal Davis’ requirements. No distractions.
Caelum couldn't go to work either, he had to come straight to the apartment, or else there would be consequences. He had to just. . . finish school. If he finished school, if he turned eighteen, he could take custody of Castor and Pollux himself. He could leave, and nobody would know, nobody would care.
As soon as Caelum turned eighteen, he was leaving this stupid city, his feelings for Peter be damned.