XIV. Danes Lobby II • for nothing and everything

The tears hadn't stopped.

Crouched down before the Danes, Evaughn couldn't tell where one flower ended and the next began with his vision so blurry. How ironic that his eyes were being watered in their stead.

Every flash in his mind recreated the gun in his father's lifeless hand, and fragments of his brains scattered in his vehicle.

The aches in the boy's heart had been a constant the past three days. His voice croaked pathetically as he repeated the same questions he'd been asking himself for the umpteenth time.

"Why. . .? Why didn't I see that you were unhappy? D-Dad. . . I thought things were okay, and we could f-finally be a family. . . agh."

Eyes shut, he willed his cries be silent, yet they escaped anyway, those stubborn snivels and gasps.

Behind him, the gravel crunched as footsteps approached.

"Vaughn, I brought sushi."

Resting on a Dane, his gaze went nowhere.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I was being stupid."

The smell of the sushi only beckoned his face muscles to quiver again for it brought up archives of Neo.

"I'll set it down over. . .here."

Dimitri got distracted. Evaughn's attention waned just the same. Ahead of them, meters past the field of yellow, the doors to the Office of the Premier were pushed open. Out came they who Evaughn knew to be Dimitri's cousins. Only Sinclair was his sibling.

Given the bit of distance between them, they were quite loud and expressive. It was the first Evaughn had seen them.

Most of them diverged elsewhere. One guy, however, approached them. As he closed in, his face spelled smug and all its synonyms.

Over his shoulder, Evaughn heard an irritated click of a tongue. Then Dimitri went to stand in his relative's path, still holding the sushi.

The redhead cocked his head upward. "Yo, Dimi."

"Marceau. Hell do you want?"

"I'm letting you know we're continuing the meeting in. . . five hours. We didn't get to cover everything since Sinclair left and you wanted to make a deal with Jacques."

"What, you got something to add to what he said?"

He laughed. "Nah. That's all I came here for—oh, actually there's one more thing. I am still looking for a partner in the Game. You know, someone to help me so I can," Marceau started humping the air, grunting each time.

"I'd rather eat shit."

Chuckling, Marceau shot a grin towards Evaughn who hadn't yet recovered from that display of. . . character.

Dimitri stepped forward until the plate of sushi in his hand was the only thing stopping him from doing more. He lowered his voice, "The fuck are you doing?"

"Refuckinglax, I'm not into guys." He brushed Dimitri off, before he placed a hand by his mouth. "Hey, you! I see you like those flowers."

"Vaughn, don't answer him."

Marceau cocked his head at Dimitri. "Don't answer? Sounds like you're restricting his actions. That's exactly how I treat my you-know-whats."

"You like eating fists?"

Smirking, he turned and went. "See you later, Dimi."

Furrowing his brows, Evaughn stood. If he were honest, he'd been too much of a sobbing mess the past couple days, too buried underneath bedsheets with the agony of losing his father that he hadn't had the energy or mind to ask questions.

In fact, this was his first day outside.

Dimitri turned, softened his frown, and held out the plate. "Sorry about him. I'll leave this with you. In case you want it."

Now at a more level height, Evaughn received it with one hand. He placed his other on Dimitri's forearm. "You don't have to go."

"No?" Dimitri lightened up, eyes honed in at the contact. "Should we go to the house?"

Evaughn nodded, picking up the chopsticks to plop the rolls in his mouth one by one as they walked along the field.

He swallowed his fifth bite before listing off everything he knew so far. "So. . . this entire place is called Danes Lobby, and it is outside of earth." He looked around at yellow. "Those are Danes, used for cloning and other things. Those guys are your cousins. Sinclair is your brother. And you're originally LeRouge, somehow."

"Yeah. Anything else you want to know?"

He looked around. Centered about the field were three large buildings—the Office at the rear, the dining hall to its left, and another to its right. "What's that place for?"

Dimitri followed his eyes. "We call it Flux," he informed him. "It's where we transport souls of the dead into bodies of the unborn."

His jaw slackened. "That sounds like a big deal."

Dimitri shrugged.

They passed more Danes while Evaughn replayed the conversation with Marceau. "What's a you-know-what?"

"What?"

"Your cousin said it just then."

"That is. . . a stupid term you don't have to know. So don't worry about it." Dimitri took his plate which was now empty save for chopsticks. He noticed the unsatisfied look on Evaughn and thinned his lips. "I'm serious. It's nothing. . . Want more?"

He pushed out a puff of air. "No."

They had approached an arched hedge whereby an elderly in a black suit was standing. Dimitri gave her the plate, and she bowed her head in taking it from him.

"Thank you, ma'am," said Evaughn who then halted to read her uniform: Premier Works. "If you don't mind me asking, are you. . . from earth?"

She was straight-faced as she replied. "Yes, sir."

He made an 'o' with his lips. "Have you been working here a long time?"

"Yes, sir. I was recruited two hundred years ago."

"Huh?"

Suddenly, Dimitri took his hand and tugged him forward.

"What are you—ah!"

Flashing a grin over his shoulder, Dimitri picked up the speed. 

"D-Dimitri!" Evaughn grumbled as he started to run against his will. Now outside the field, they descended a slight hill.

"What, you can't keep up?" He shouted. "Should I pick you up, then?"

"You wish." Evaughn yanked his arm out of his hold and sped past him.

"Wha—Vaughn!"

Evaughn screamed playfully hearing Dimitri's footsteps catch up to him. The breeze hit their face as they ran with innocent laughs raised towards the sky. A glance backwards made him gasp. Dimitri's hand swiped across his back to grab him but he was faster somehow.

Evaughn wasn't expecting it when a pair of hands slid around his torso and pulled him down. They laughed as gravity took them down the rest of the hill.

After countless rolls, Evaughn landed on his back and spluttered to get grass and hair out of his mouth. All of it was useless though because in a blur, Dimitri's weight fell on top of him. Their chests made contact, quaking as they laughed some more.

"I didn't expect—haha—you to be so close."

Dimitri rested his chin on the nook of his shoulder. "Vaughn, you—why were you so fast?"

He snorted. "I don't know. You're crushing me."

"Whoops." Dimitri lifted onto his fours. They exchanged quiet looks with hidden intent.

Evaughn squinted. "What?"

Dimitri raised a shoulder. "Nothing, just. . . last time we were in this position, I was beating you up."

"Don't remind me," he groaned.

"Let me make it up to you." The motion was easy to miss, but Dimitri's gaze definitely pointed downward. At that, Evaughn's eyes grew.

He rolled out from beneath him. "N-no! I don't even know what you mean by that."

"It's whatever you want it to mean."

"Then I want it to mean nothing."

"Why? I want to apologize."

"There's no need. We already settled it." Evaughn was on his bum now, sweeping his hair out of his face when he realized that his elastic was gone and his hair was out and everywhere. Groaning, he felt the ground in pats.

A smile quirked the corner of Dimitri's lips. He was on his bottom now, too, his legs crossed. "I was hoping that would happen."

"Oh, whatever. Help me look for it."

"No."

Sighing, Evaughn gave up searching. "At least tell me what that lady meant."

"What lady? Come closer."

Evaughn's compliance was subconscious, but soon their knees were touching. Dimitri extended a hand towards his hair, but he pushed it away. "Tell me, first."

Hurt by the rejection, Dimitri's brows pushed together. "Really?"

"How's she been working here for two hundred years? No one's that old."

"Souls can't die. They live forever."

"O. . .kay?" He nodded slowly. "But she doesn't look two-hundred."

"Don't worry about it," Dimitri said quietly. "My family, the workers, the way souls work. . . If I explained everything, you'd just get bored."

Evaughn scrunched his lips to the side, unsure if that answer was enough. He wasn't the type to push for details, but still, this was different.

"None of it matters," Dimitri added. "It's just me and you here."

Evaughn would've agreed. He actually parted his lips to say I guess it is. But, after a moment's pause, he thought of the girl with whom he exchanged an eye for an eye, and slapped a hand on his forehead.

"I'm a jerk."

"Far from it."

"No, Simone, she. She might be worried about. . ." Evaughn paused. How had it slipped from his mind? The letter that dropped from the sky—the one he'd brushed off as a weird prank. . . He flicked his gaze to Dimitri in time to see him roll his eyes.

"Who cares about her—"

"You told me you'd kill her. I-In that letter, you said you'd kill her if I abandon you." He made air quotes around abandon.

Dimitri shook his head. "I wasn't being serious about that. I would never do anything that could hurt you. It was just talk."

He regarded Dimitri's look and labeled it genuine. "Still, I should at least her that she shouldn't worry about me. We usually meet at the playground, and it's only been three days, but—"

"Vaughn, just forget about her."

Taken aback, Evaughn raised a brow. "What the hell?"

Dimitri shook his head. He muttered his first sentence. "This is why I didn't want to bring her up. Listen, I. . . I took a peek down there. I saw that Simone girl kiss some other guy."

"What. . . she wouldn't. . . Would she?"

"Of course she would, she did. But who cares? I'm here. I care about you," Dimitri stressed. "And. . . I was serious when I wrote I love you."

Evaughn stilled. Sure, he'd read the phrase, but hearing it said out loud was doing things to his stomach.

"I'm serious." Dimitri took both his hands and drew circles over them with his thumbs. "I'll never forget the day I died. You made the pain bearable."

In Evaughn's mind, the sins they shared was, too, a recurring chapter. "I haven't forgotten it either," he admitted, eyes stamped on the pair of hands now aiming for his cheeks—the same ones used to kill a number of innocent souls.

"I love you, Vaughn. I mean it."

Evaughn's brows pinched in the middle; so much was wrong about loving Dimitri, but he had nothing and everything. Not an uncle, not a father, and every craving more than sated.

For nothing and everything, he leaned into the touch.

"I-I love you, too."