— Léon —
There was a weird wave of energy rippling from the forest that night. A thrumming of power, playing in harmony with Léon's heartbeat. He had his eyes opened and set on the starless sky above as he, Phillip, and Modraniht lay crumpled on hard and uncomfortable bedrolls. Cae's group was still spread around the camp, drinking and laughing as if it was Non-Apocalypse day.
Modraniht snored to his right, and Léon sighed, shaking his head. That hunky, snoring hulk reminded him of Roberto and the first time he had slept in his home five years ago. A smile curled Léon's lips.
"Reminiscing?" asked a voice at his side.
Léon rolled around to look at two ocean-green eyes half-hidden by tired eyelids. Phillip seemed exhausted, and Léon could imagine it was the result of his physical activities. Sparring the whole day and facing the emotional weight he'd been carrying sounded like a lot.
"Can't sleep." Léon shrugged and watched as the lines in Phillip's expression softened.
"Huh." Phillip grunted and stretched, then laced his fingers behind his neck. "He's... dangerous. Cae, I mean."
"Everything here is."
"Yeah." Phillip looked at Léon, serious and dark. "We should escape. Not right now, cause—you know—they are probably expecting it. But tomorrow, while everyone's sleeping."
Léon nodded. His eyes lost themselves among the dark clouds of pollution above them. An unwanted thought circled his mind, making him grimace.
"What?" Phillip asked.
"They... have NAVs."
"And?"
"And I really need to get to Cidade Santa. If I can convince them to lend me one...."
Phillip's gaze snapped to the side to meet Léon's. His eyebrows shot upwards. "You can't be serious, Léon."
"What other choice do we have? We can't steal one, can we? We'd have the whole group hunting us like foxes if we did!" Léon tried not to meet his gaze, but the sheer intensity of Phillip's eyes worked like a magnet. A fury-filled, ready-to-punch-you-in-the-face kind of magnet.
"You can't be serious," Phillip repeated, louder this time. He sat up and stared down at him. "You can't be thinking about working for that piece of shit."
Léon all but jumped, rushing to clasp a hand on Phillip's lips. "Shut up! They're gonna hear you."
Phillip gripped Léon's wrist and pulled them upward. Léon's knees jabbed on the floor, and he fell forward like a sack of sand. He wasn't sure how Phillip was doing it, but he was holding his wrists in a way Phillip's arms were the only thing keeping him from falling. He felt weak and exposed, a kitten with his paws trapped.
"So what?" Phillip barked. "You're ready to work for the bastard anyway." He furrowed his eyebrows and tugged at Léon's wrists, pulling him closer. "I never thought you'd be this much of a blockhead, Dickens. Snap out of it!"
Léon furrowed his brows. He tried to free his wrists, but Phillip's hold tightened.
"I'm serious, Léon. You spent four years locked up to pay for your crimes; don't you dare to ruin that for you."
Oh. Was this what Phillip was worried about?
Shaking his head, Léon let out a deep breath. "My mom is waiting for me. My brother is waiting for me. Rob is waiting for me!"
"And if you were really worried about that, you wouldn't be ready to dive back into crime, partner. You know it: whatever Cae's offering you, I doubt it'll be something you'll get away with."
"Let go of me," Léon growled.
Phillip's lips curled down, puckered, and half-opened as if he was about to spill more of his acidic half-truths, but he shut up instead. His fingers loosed, and he averted his eyes to the side. Léon lost balance and fell on all fours with a grunt. He sat up and checked his wrists.
"You gotta be kidding me," Phillip mumbled. "I can't believe this shit, just can't." With a pout the size of a train, Phillip turned around and plopped on his bedroll, pulling his cover over his head.
"Let's at least hear what he has to say. We can decide together, right? Phillip?"
"Shut up. Just... shut up."
"Goddess. So fucking childish." Léon sighed and massaged his temples. "Fine. I don't have time for your antics, anyway." He lay on his bedroll and crossed his arms.
"Yeah, well. Enjoy that little time you don't have for me cause you'll soon be back in prison. Then, you'll have all the time in the world."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Phillip turned around and focused his furious green eyes on Léon. "I'm talking about you choosing the easy way out, partner. We could get out while they're sleeping. We could find a village or—"
"That would take days, Phillip."
"You waited four years; what's wrong with waiting a couple more weeks?"
Léon huffed. "I just don't want to. Okay?"
Phillip clicked his tongue and got up again. He still wore that same survival gear—if that scuba swimsuit could even be called that—and a baggy linen shirt covered by dirt and dried leaves. His hair, usually gelled and styled, was now disheveled and thick with sweat, while his pale skin had the softest red shade of sunburn. He stood motionless, staring at Léon.
Léon shivered under the weight of his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
He inched closer. "I'm trying to understand you, partner." Phillip furrowed his eyebrows. "You were not like this when I picked you up at the pen." He made a quick, quiet assessment of Léon's whole body, then spun around and propped his elbows on his knees. "C'mon, I'm listening. What happened? Why are you here?"
Well. Léon had told Phillip he was happy about their friendship, but he never thought he'd actually act as his friend.
"Go on, Léon. I don't have the whole night."
More or less.
Léon let out a sigh woven in a soft, tired chuckle. He massaged his temples, rubbed his eyes, and clicked his tongue.
And then he told him. He was wary at first, not really sure of how much he could share—but the more he spoke, the easier it got. He told Phillip about how weird it felt to be out and about after those four years in prison, he told him about his brother, about how much he missed Lampee, about Bonee's melancholy, about his conversations with his mother, about Rob and Kaliandra's exchanged emails, and about his decision to face OC and get to his family before the borders closed for real.
What Léon didn't tell him was about the memories.
"But I just can't help feeling that this is a sign," Léon said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Why am I here after Amma lied? Why am I here after Rob refused to see me or call me for the past four years?" He lowered his eyes. "This plane accident, then being captured by these people," Léon said, gesturing around him to point at Cae's bandits. "I was too quick to jump into this. Maybe that's why Amma doesn't want me there with Pipo and her; maybe that's why Rob is ghosting me. They must've realized I'm not..." safe to be around. "Ready. I'm not ready."
"Whoa. Léon." Phillip rolled around to support his elbows on the floor and his chin on his hands. He looked into his eyes. "There's no way your mom doesn't want you with her. No way, believe me. And listen... Roberto is worth less than my left ingrown toenail, but"—Phillip grimaced as if his next words physically hurt him—"Roberto might be a fucker, but.... Ugh. Goddess, can't believe I'm gonna said this." He clicked his tongue and rubbed his face. "But he loves you, Dickens."
The sounds died out around them. Cae's people went to bed, the unkempt campfires became nothing but piles of embers, and the late-night chill settled on Léon's shoulders with a thin layer of dew. He shivered.
Phillip took off his linen shirt and threw it around Léon's shoulders, spreading a comfortable warmth around him. He tugged at its sides and tucked them at Léon's sides. Phillip's hands became heavier, and they fell at his sides as he sighed and said,
"Still... sometimes, love is not enough."
Léon sniffed. "I just want to feel normal again, that's all."
"Don't we all," Phillip mumbled. "But healing is a weird thing, Leo."
Something awkward crept around Léon's heart.
"All I'm saying is—It'll take time to have that sense of normality back. It always does when things change for real as they did to you. And..." Phillip scratched the back of his neck. "Don't be too hard on yourself. As much as you want to, nothing can force us to forgive people. You might need some time, you know."
Léon stared at him. He wasn't sure what was more surprising—to be opening up to Phillip in one of the most dangerous camps in Old Continent or to realize he had listened to him.
Really listened.
"Phillip? Are you talking about Rob?"
"Am I?" he answered with a chuckle.
Léon furrowed his brows. "Okay. I know some people might need time, but if you're talking about Rob, and I know you are, I. Already. Forgave him."
With a dramatic groan, Phillip fell back on his bedroll. "Goddess. Okay, Dickens. If you say so."
Léon brushed a lock of hair behind his ear, and they fell into a comfortable silence that lasted a few minutes.
After a yawn and a stretch, Léon peeked at Phillip from under his eyelashes, giving him a tiny smile. "Phillip?"
"Hum?" he said in a bitter voice.
"You... changed. Being with Rio did you a lot of good."
Léon might as well have spat on Phillip's face because the latter cleared his throat and looked away with so much bitterness that Léon was worried for a second. The ruffling of fabric suggested he was back into his sleeping bag—but his curt, rude motions proved how bothered he was.
"Whatever. Enough talk for a day."
That was weird. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Just... shut the fuck up."
Curiosity still gnawed at his ankles when Léon schooled his angry expression. Whatever Phillip's reasons were, he could discover everything tomorrow.
***
Or he would discover if his priorities hadn't changed.
At the crack of dawn, Cae himself poked Léon's cheek and offered him a car and provisions that should be enough for their trip to Cidade Santa. Léon, still half asleep and eager to see his family, accepted it without thinking—and this sliced a wide smirk on Cae's lips.
When Léon and the others really woke up, and Léon shared the news, Modraniht crossed his arms with a somber nod while Phillip seemed on the verge of a cardiac arrest. The only thing sweetening the mood was the small banquet Cae had prepared for them. They had edible fruits that smelled like food, real bread, and even a tiny bit of real butter. The final touch was the coffee, so strong and dense it woke up every cell in Léon's body.
Still, Cae wasn't around to keep his promise, and no amount of sweet talk from Modraniht convinced the barbarians to hand the car Cae had promised before vanishing. Vanessa kept them company for most of the day, yes—she surely didn't feel guilty for robbing and kidnapping them—but every time Léon asked about her boss, she deflected the questions and poured him more coffee.
As hours passed and Cae didn't show up to talk to them, Phillip snapped.
"I can't believe it!" he roared, walking back to the place where Modraniht and Léon were sitting. "They said we can't leave on foot cause Cae is already"—Phillip wiggled his fingers to make air quotes—"arranging for our vehicle or some bullshit like that."
Phillip, Léon, and Modraniht sat on wood benches in a corner of the camp, licked by the intense orange of another sunset in the forest.
"Well, this is pretty bad." Modraniht massaged his chin, then rubbed his cheek.
"I'm..." Léon rubbed his eyes. It was hard, but he managed to stop his hands from shaking. "I'm sorry. It was my fault again."
"Shut up," Phillip barked. "Cae's to blame here, not you. Even if you had said no, we'd still be in the same situation."
"I agree." Modraniht covered his face with a hand and slid down as he let out a deep breath. "All right, kids. I thought we'd manage to solve this ourselves, but things are starting to get troublesome." He supported his hands on his waist. "Listen..." He fiddled with the gold band on his left ring finger. "My wife has some... connections. She knows one or two leaders of the barbarian tribes in OC, and if Cae has any connection with the people she knows, I might get us out of here."
"What? Why didn't you say that sooner?" Phillip scoffed and sat down beside Léon.
Modraniht hesitated. Why was he hesitating?
"Well, if they're rivals, we might be taken as hostages, and things might get more complicated, but"—he scratched the back of his neck and let out an embarrassed laugh—"let's be positive, aight?"
Before Léon could answer, Modraniht walked away.
Phillip groaned and massaged the back of his neck. "It's hot in here. Is it just me? It's so hot."
Léon gave him a lopsided glance.
Phillip twisted his neck right and left, shook his leg, rolled his shoulders. He grunted. "Hey, Léon... do you have anything I can chew? Maybe some bread or those little fruit-things we had for breakfast? You know? Those purple little sweet things that taste like Frolik soda-pop?"
"Do you mean grapes?"
"Grapes, yeah. Those things." His voice lowered. "Grapes. What a stupid name. Grapes, grapes, grapes."
Léon held Phillip's shaking knee, making him jump. "Phil, calm down."
"Tsch." Phillip brushed Léon's hand aside and crossed his legs, straightening his back. "It's this stupid bench." He slapped a hand on it. "I can't get comfortable on this shit. Also, I want grapes." He got up. "I'll find some and—"
Léon gripped his hand and pulled him back down, forcing Phillip to sit again at his side. "Wait here. Modraniht will talk to Vanessa; maybe he can solve this for us."
Phillip let out a trembly breath. He stuck an index finger under his turtleneck collar and pulled it. "I can't. And you're trusting that rando way too easily."
"We kinda survived an airplane accident together. That tends to bring people closer."
"Well, I say it's dumb of you to do that." Phillip sighed. "Besides, it's too hot." He half-smiled as a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. Something crossed his eyes, and Phillip opened a wide smile. "Do you remember that scene in I, werevampire-wolf death machine 9000, part four, when Azziz and Luca are lost in the Ocaci's jungle, and Azziz can't breathe cause it's too hot and he's a werevampire-wolf in a jungle, and so Luca just rips his leather shirt and Azziz is shirtless for the rest of the movie?"
Léon laughed. "Yeah. That was a terrible excuse for some eye candy. Not that I'm complaining, of course. I mean... it's Azziz, right?"
"Nah, I prefer Luca. I have a weakness for savage little bottoms with sharp tongues that poke all the right places." He raised an eyebrow, his lip curling in a lewd smirk.
With a sigh and an eye roll, Léon crossed his arms. "Whatever. Just please don't tell me you're gonna—"
"I'm gonna do the same thing."
"Phillip—"
"No, seriously. Just watch, I'm gonna..." He dug his fingers in the elastic fabric of his scuba swimsuit. Phillip tugged at it, then stretched it. "Just..." He huffed and furrowed his brows. "It's more resistant than I thought," he murmured. He tried again, groaning.
Léon spat a laugh. "Are you serious?"
"Just... I'm almost...!" He stretched the fabric even more, but it slipped through his fingers and hit his chest like a rubber band, making a loud snap. Phillip grimaced. "Shit... it seems even... tighter..." he huffed and gripped his collar. "Léon... I... can't...." He gripped his collar and pulled it. Phillip's white-knuckled grip on the elastic fabric was starting to give Léon a bad feeling—and so was the ever-darkening red of his face.
"Yeah, you just told me about Luca and Azziz. If you think I'm gonna fall for that, you're terribly mistaken."
"Léon... please!" Phillip slipped from the bench and fell on the dirt, shutting his eyes.
"Stop pretending." He raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but the expression soon disappeared. "Phillip?" Léon slid to the edge of his seat and studied Phillip's dark-red face. "Holy... !"
Léon knelt beside Phillip and pulled him to face him. The scuba swimsuit did seem tighter, but not enough to be causing—
Phillip coughed and groaned, gasping like a dying man.
"Holy shit... holy shit!" Léon looked around. There were no knives, no blades, except... "I'm sorry for this, Phil." Without thinking twice, Léon grasped the hilt of Phillip's dagger and infused it with his own power, breaking the crimson seal around it.
"What? Léon, no... I'm joking, I'm—no, no, no!"
Léon wasn't listening anymore. He placed the tip of the dagger on the spandex of Phillip's collar, then slid it down with a swift motion and a ripping sound, praying he wouldn't cut his chest in the process. Once the damage was done, he dropped the dagger and cupped his hands on Phillip's face. "Hey... you okay? Can you breathe?" He slapped his cheeks, staring at Phillip's widened eyes. "Phillip?"
A still, silent moment stretched.
"Are you... okay?" Léon asked in a small voice.
Phillip moved like a rusty robot as he raised his head and looked at the V slit that went from his scuba swimsuit's collar to the middle of his chest. His jaw slacked; his eyes rested on Léon.
"Do you have any idea how much I paid for this shit?"
Léon blinked a few times as Phillip got up.
"I was joking, Dickens!" he barked.
"I thought—" But as understanding downed on Léon's features, something hot and uncomfortable swirled in his stomach. "I can't believe it. You scared me. You fooled me!" he shouted. Léon's hand lashed towards the side of Phillip's face, but he was faster.
Phillip jumped to his feet and covered his ears. "What the fuck? Don't get your little fingers on my precious darlings! You're not my mother, Dickens."
"But I'll spank you either way!" he shouted back. "Come here, you little punk."
A bark of laughter escaped Phillip's lips, and his wide smile was soon replaced by a provoking smirk. "Is that fire I see in your eyes, Dickens? O-ho, and here I thought you were too old for that."
"Shut up, Phillip! You're way older than me."
"Shut me, if you can. If your back isn't too sore for that, old man."
Léon furrowed his brows and pounced, missing Phillip by a few inches.
"You'll have to do better than that, Léon. I guess you were in prison too long; you seem all rusty."
"I'll show you who's rusty," Léon said with a chuckle, his tone filled with mock offense.
They ran like children, sparred like fighters, and laughed like free men until Léon finally managed to lock Phillip in a chokehold. Phillip, much taller, had lost balance and fallen on his knees. Léon, not a drop of mercy in his smaller being, used this opportunity to lock him in place, lacing an arm around his neck. Now they were panting, a final roll of laughter rumbling in their chests.
"Ask for mercy!"
"Not a fucking chance." Phillip held Léon's arms and pulled them down, but his hold was too strong.
Léon looked down. Their gazes met, and their breaths mixed, closer than they've been in years. A spell of silence spread around them; their smiles shrunk.
Phillip was close... so close. Léon loosed his hold on Phillip's neck, and his hand slid down, stopping on his shoulder. Phillip stiffened. The muscles of his jaw tensed and released as if he was opening his lips to speak, but no words came out.
Léon's breathing hit the skin of his neck, spreading a layer of goosebumps on it.
Phillip averted his gaze, his cheeks flushed with the exercise—or something else. "Please... have mercy, Léon," he said in a weak voice, barely louder than a whisper. His hands tightened on Léon's arm and pulled it down so he could get up.
Before he could, someone else showed up. "I'm very sorry to interrupt," said a voice. It was filled with amusement and a tinge of something Léon couldn't identify.
With quick, small motions, Léon let Phillip go and staggered a few steps. He turned around and faced the smirk slicing Cae's lips. At his side, Modraniht had furrowed brows.
"Come," Cae said, motioning them closer. "Let's make a deal."
***
Thank you SO much for reading this chapter! If you're enjoying the read, please don't forget to press that little start and leave your vote ;)
Things are just starting to get complicated and they might *not* develop in the way you are expecting them to.
What do you think will happen next? I'd love to know your guess! 8)
kisses,
Ligia
ps: I just updated the illustration in the previous chapter, if you want to check the finished version! :D