**another fresh edit so please point out any mistakes - I really shouldn't trust myself to edit at 2am but I'm a creature of habit, whoops**
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Three sharp raps on his front door was all it took to drag James out of bed. As footsteps thundered throughout the house and lights flickered on, Kyra shrunk back with the shadows, oblivious to the icy sheets soaking through her coat. She blinked as water tangled in her lashes.
The door opened with a frown. James looked around, his half-closed eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. Rubbing his eyes, he mumbled, "You realise the porch is covered for a reason, correct?"
Kyra tucked wet strands of hair behind her ear. The rain was an afterthought, unimportant compared to him. "Are your parents home?"
He shook his head, brows furrowed.
"Am I allowed to come in?"
He stepped aside; she weaved under his arm and into the warmth. The house itself was cold and dark, but the memories that came with it were enough to stop her shivering. She followed his trek up the stairs to his dimly lit bedroom; it seemed to change every time she entered it. Today the bed was facing the window, adjacent to a precariously stacked pile of books that served as a nightstand. His real nightstand was covered in the sheet music next to the piano. The desk was pushed under the window, and unlike any other surface in his room, it was bare. There was an organised quality to the chaos of his bedroom — much like James himself.
James touched her arm lightly, his skin like a flame against hers. "Whoa, you need to defrost. How long were you outside?" He pulled the duvet off his bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Kyra shrugged. "Long enough to grow gills." She sat on the bed, turning her head slightly to inhale the lingering scent of James.
"Why?"
She looked up, frowning. "Why what?"
He sat next to her, so close warmth radiated off his skin. "Why were you out there?"
The silence laid on her skin like poison. More than anything she wanted to rid herself of it, but how? How could she explain what made no sense to her? She came because she needed him, but also because she was going to lose him and she couldn't bear to see him. They both knew what was going to happen - and there was nothing they could do to stop it. But there was one thing they could do. Forget. At least for one night.
She bit her lip and tangled her hands in the folds of James' blanket. "I, I don't..." She stopped, took a breath, and started again. "Why should I spend my last night worrying when I can spend it doing things I won't be able to for a while?" Or ever again, she added mentally. Everything depended on the events of the next day, on who the Commander chose to be apart of their plan, on how much he wanted Ashley Henderson dead. Even a life-long friendship like theirs wouldn't be able to survive that.
Kyra shook her head to clear it. "Can we forget about the fact that I'm leaving, just for tonight, and instead focus on the fact that I'm still here?"
James stared for a moment before nodding. "Where's your mum tonight?"
Kyra looked down to hide her stinging eyes. "She, uh, she took an extra shift at the hospital tonight - it's always busy during storms. And I couldn't exactly explain why I wanted her to stay home." She smiled with tight lips. "I guess tonight is important for everyone in different ways."
"Will you see her before you leave?"
"Yeah. In the morning. I don't have to be there until the afternoon."
He nodded. It was then she realised his hands were curled around both of hers, warming them in his grasp. "Are you scared?" His voice was barely a whisper.
There it was again. That question. He'd asked her the very same one before their Vinctures. So much had changed in that time, but her answer was almost identical. "Yes."
James' eyes didn't leave her face. "So am I."
"An honest answer this time," she murmured under her breath.
"What?" he asked.
Shaking her head, she shrugged out of the blanket and stood, her hands still tangled in James'. "Nothing. I'm sorry, I know it's late, I just..." She broke off with a huff.
"Since when is midnight late?" His grip on her hands tightened, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Stay."
Kyra's chest tightened. She wanted to stay but a part of her - the part that told her to go home and get a good night of sleep and triple check her bag - knew it would be impossible to leave in the morning if she did. Her rational side always won.
But not tonight.
She freed one of her hands and used it to push James' hair behind his ear. When did it grow long enough to do that? Only a few months ago it had been short. Time constantly surprised her. And so did he.
"I'm not leaving you. Not tonight."
Grinning, James said, "Good. You didn't really have a choice anyway."
She shook her head, laughing. "Is that so, huh?"
"Mhm." James crossed to the dresser and pulled out a dry shirt, tossing it at Kyra's head before she had time to move. She pulled it away with a smirk.
"Henderson, you just started a war."
—
Kyra thumbed through a towering stack of novels as James played a soft song on the piano she'd never heard. The books were mostly hers, but he'd added to the collection over the years. In the corner was an oddly colourful stack of thin volumes. As she crawled closer the covers came into focus; it was all the books she'd given him the first day they'd met, the first time she'd ever really talked to someone about books, the first time she'd read to him.
"I can't believe you still have all of these."
"All of what?" His head perked up, but his eyes stayed on the keys.
"The books we read as kids."
"I had to. If it weren't for you and your book obsession I wouldn't read at all."
Her lips turned down at the corners. "A James that doesn't read? I can't imagine it."
"It was almost a reality. The only things my parents read to me were political and as a five-year-old with attention problems I can't say I was that interested." He shrugged. "Until the girl next door threw a book at my head and forced me to pay attention."
Laughing, Kyra said, "Hey, don't blame that on me. You were playing piano so loud I couldn't think. It was a good throw too, all the way from my window—" she motioned an arch with her hands —"to yours."
"Oh I know, I have a scar to prove it. The only reason I read books now is because you read them to me then. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't understand books. The characters, the plot, the hidden meanings — they all became clear because of you."
Smiling, Kyra turned back to face the novels; it was strange for him to be candid like that, and she tried to ignore the part of her brain that rationalised the sudden change. She wanted to enjoy her last night, as hard as it would be.
She knelt down by the tallest stack, tucked her feet under her legs, and selected a particularly rough looking novel. The title was written in delicate cursive.
"Dead Roses," she murmured. She held it above her head. "I know you're not afraid of a romance novel but this sounds a little sappy even for your taste James."
He chuckled but didn't look up from the keys. "It's more than 'girl meets boy'. There's heartbreak and death and hate and war. A little bit of romance to break the ice never hurts though."
Kyra grinned and flipped through the pages; James had underlined the occasional word, added notes here and there. She could never bring herself to mark books but it was fascinating to see which parts stood out to him. She stopped on a page dominated by scraggly black letters — the last page, she realised.
Love is gentle. Love is blind. Love is never leaving someone behind. James had crossed out the final lines of the book and replaced them with a single sentence. Love is hard, love is pain, love is never seeing them again.
Kyra's breath caught in her throat.
"You can keep that."
She spun on her knees. He was still by the piano, his fingers on the keys, a smirk on his lips — but his eyes rested on her now.
"Are you sure?" As she said it she pulled the book close to her chest.
He laughed, motioning to the scattered piles of books. "I have more than a few of your books, I think you can have a few of mine. Plus I want you to have it. Something to remind you of me when... you know. As long you return it afterwards, we'll be just fine." He played a sinister tune.
She rolled her eyes but he'd already started to play softly again. Head down, he said, "There are wolves outside the fences you know. Scary, giant wolves. The size of a house."
Tucking the book into her jacket pocket, she clambered to her feet. "Oh really?"
"Yeah, definitely. Humongous bears too."
"Anything else that might kill someone?"
"Basically everything." He stopped playing for a second. "But I'd watch out for Ethan. If it's between eating you or a hunk of grass..."
She snorted and sat next to him on the small piano bench, pressing an out of tune key. "I'll have to watch out."
"Oh you can try." Thunder crashed in time with his words. Grinning, he pointed to the ceiling. "See, nature agrees with me."
"I'll just feed him some of your cooking; then he'll avoid me for life."
He shook his head. "Low blow, Jackson, low blow." He turned to face her with a smile.
Laughing, she dropped her head onto his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?" He shifted so that they sat facing each other, so close she could smell the toothpaste on his breath.
She bit her lip. "For being you."
He looked down at his hands. "I don't know if you should be thankful for that."
"I am."
"I have done some awful things to you — I don't know how you can sit there and feel bad."
"I think I've done much worse to you."
He snorted. "Like what?"
Leaving you here alone, she wanted to say, but she couldn't bring herself to, just in case it was true. "You know what." The words came out in a whisper.
"I can't be mad about that, you were right, as much as I hate to admit it. If the situation was reversed I would do the same thing in a heartbeat."
"And I wouldn't be mad if you did. Well maybe at first." They both laughed. "Still, it's going to be hard."
"You didn't ever think going outside would be easy, did you?"
"No, of course not. I just never realised what I'd be giving up, the experiences I'd be missing. Before the Vinctures, there were so many things I wanted, but I was too afraid I'd never get them so I didn't let myself think about it. And then I got them, the exact things I wanted, and I'm giving them away. Ironic, right?"
James tilted his head. "What are you giving away?"
Her gaze met his, blue on hazel. She couldn't tear her eyes away if she tried. "You."
James raised a hand, trailed his fingertips across her cheek. "You've always had me Kyra. Always have, always will." As he murmured the words James leaned in ever so slightly, his nose brushing hers in the process.
Kyra's heart thumped loudly in her chest, so much so that she was worried James could hear it. His thumb rested behind her ear, holding her to him with fingers tangled in her hair, the heat from his touch erasing her cold. "I really hope so." She searched his eyes, for what she wasn't sure. A sign, an inkling. Tension kept her spine straight up. She took a deep breath. And then she pressed her lips against his.
Kyra pulled back with a sharp exhale. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I just did-"
James' hand slid down her back as he pulled her face back to his. This kiss was different, deeper. Her hands rose from her lap to his chest, tangling in the folds of his shirt as she pulled him closer, so close that she could feel his heart thumping against her hands but she still wanted more. His lips were soft, the taste of mint lingering on their surface.
The books had never done it justice.
And then James pulled away, breathing deeply, his forehead resting against hers. In seconds he was smiling the smile she loved, the real one so few people got to see. She returned it.
"Is that what you meant earlier, about something you'd never be able to do?" he asked.
"Something like that."
James grinned. "Didn't realise I was bucket list worthy."
She leaned back, rolling her eyes as she punched him lightly on the arm. "Watch out, your ego's getting too heavy for your shoulders."
"My ego's been weighing me down for years, it isn't going to be a problem now." Sighing, he said, "What a week."
"It's Wednesday James."
He shrugged, earning him a short laugh from Kyra. Clearing his throat, he turned back to face the piano. "Do you remember when I used to give you piano lessons?"
"Don't remind me," she said with a groan, but part of her was glad for the change in topic; if she gave into that impulse again, she knew there'd be no sleeping that night. How could they switch between friends and lovers so easily? Was that how was it supposed to be, that effortlessness she always read about?
James grabbed her hands and curled his fingers through hers, spacing them out across the cool keys. James had left grooves in the material, too big for her nimble fingers.
"Oh, please no. Our neighbours didn't forgive us for months after you tried to teach me Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."
A smirk was clear in his voice. "They've had plenty of time to heal then."
—
Dull light filtered in through the bare windows, casting strange shadows around the pillars of books that filled the room. Wintry air nipped at any body part not tucked under ten layers of blankets, reminding anyone who dared dart out of bed what was to come in the following months. Kyra groaned as the room grew slowly lighter, and tried to roll, only to be pulled back by a steely force around her waist. Frowning, she opened her eyes.
James' face was inches from hers on the pillow, so close his breath warmed his frozen lips. His arm formed an iron cage around her waist. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment they fell asleep. One moment they'd been laughing and talking about books and playing piano, and the next they were lying side-by-side on the bed, inches apart despite the masses of room either side of them. Their knees bumped together and their arms brushed with every breath.
Sighing, she lifted his arm and placed it on her other side, careful not to wake him; he snored lightly in response, shoving his arm deep under the pillow. The coat she'd soaked through the night before was leaning over a chair. A thin, rectangular object banged against her leg as she pulled it on. The book, she remembered. The feel of it against her was enough to strengthen her resolve.
Eyes clenched, she leaned in and pressed her lips to James' forehead, gently. "I'll see you soon." For his sake, she hoped 'soon' was a few months from then, rather than a few hours. Tears fell down her cheeks before she could catch them as she crossed to the door.
"You will."
Her hand froze on the doorknob as she turned. James' eyes remained closed, but his lips were set in a slight smile. "You'll see me again."
A breathy chuckle escaped her lips, quickly replaced with a sniffle. If only it were that simple. The events of that day would change everything. Yet, she still said, "I will."
Another empty promise she couldn't keep.
-- author's note --
How's it going?
This chapter was probably the second hardest thing I've had to write - ever. That kiss has been in my head throughout all FIVE drafts of this story and yet it still will never seem 100% perfect to me. I spent HOURS editing it tonight and it's only just starting to feel right to me. Just too much emotion to sum up, I guess. Anyway, what are your thoughts??
*TITLE UPDATE* After multiple polls, the title below came out on top:
The Command Series: Citizen.
What are your thoughts on that as a title? Do you like it better than 'The Control Series: Citizen'?
Thanks again for the support! If you guys ever need anything don't be afraid to ask, I'd love to support you guys as much as you support me. xx