Kevin

For some odd reason, I couldn't fall asleep that night. I was early to breakfast with Charles after he brought Donovon to school.

He had been talking about something at the church, something he was doing research on for his final paper. That's why he came here, after all. His theology degree. Researching a bunch of different religions. Their similarities, differences.

This was our last date. He leaves tonight, his flight will leave while I'm on the air.

So, despite anything and everything we've been through, this was it. We had a good run!

As he went on about how excited he was for his next place, I just smiled, and smiled and acted like I was listening.

Charles was sweet enough that he even walked me to the station being I had to work. You have to work to play, after all. We all know that. It's basic rules, common sense.

He gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"Good luck here, Kevin," Charles told me, letting go on my hands and pulling away. Which, truth be told, almost made me sad. I stopped the feeling, blocked it out of the realm of possibility. It haunted me, though. Hovered over me, almost. "I'll miss you and this town."

"Yeah," I agreed, glancing over and recalling that Strex and city counsels citizen information vault is connected to the radio station. "I will, too."

The vault is connected to us, which is connected to the currently abandoned police station. Strex runs everything, but doesn't believe in police. They believe in everyone being law abiding, and for those who aren't, that others take care of it.

It's all in chronological order, I've been in there before to get reports on people. Background information, to start files for those new in town. Real exciting work!

It couldn't be easier to find out the truth. To see if what Cecil said was true.

To see if there's any way I can remember the truth.

"Kevin, that's sweet, but you know you can't come with." Charles reminded me. "we've had this talk."

"Oh! I know," I assured my now... Well, I suppose he would be my ex-boyfriend, wouldn't he? "And I'm not going with you. But can I ask for your help with one more thing before you leave? I have plenty of time before I have to get ready for the show."

"Of course!" Charles insisted, which was a relief to hear. "What do you need help with? Getting a report? New setup?"

I sighed.

"I need you to stay on watch." I explained to him. "simply, just in my office by the window facing the fall. I have to get a few things from the vault for the show tonight, but my manager wouldn't clear it in time, so if anyone asks where I am, please tell them I'm either in the bathroom or running late."

"Are... Are you sure?" Charles asked me, sounding slightly worried by my plan. I never do anything without my managers approval because... Well, because I'm a good, productive worker.

This was different, though. If I don't do this, I won't ever feel good trusting anyone anymore. If I should trust Strex, as much as I want to, or Cecil.

"Yes, Charles, I am positive," I insisted, grabbing my key out of my pocket. "It will be fine, it's one file that I'll put back when it's over. It'll be like it never happened! It's the most productive way to get the show done, I promise."

"Alright, well, if you insist." Charles figured as I opened the door. "Let's go."

We made our way in and as Charles stayed at my office, I made the way back to the vault.

The vault is huge. It's three stories, with everyone's information in this town that Strex collected when it took over in Desert Bluffs. It goes in order of those who turned over, and after that, those born here. Meaning I should be at the very end, on the top floor.

After all, I was the most resistant. I was selfish, wanting the station for myself. They had to drag me, and they got to me last.

I was so passionate.

Making my way up for the top floor, I kept looking over my shoulder. While somebody shouldn't be here, you never know. Strex does enjoy their random checks.

Once up the stairs, it was so easy.

Too easy.

My name was four lines down, and simply pressing on it presented me with an opened drawer in it's spot. It just had a little bottle with my name on it.

So I grabbed it and shoved it in my work bag.

On my way out, there wasn't anyone there. It was that easy.

Heading back to my studio, I dropped a letter off at the front desk. A letter I wrote in the middle of last night, when I had made my decision.

When I decided that, no matter the outcome of this, I can't keep doing this.

"That was quick!" Charles remarked as I got into my studio, emptying my bag. I cleaned the studio this morning, around 4 AM, for whoever comes here next. Not everyone has the same fascinations as I do. It had gotten out of hand, for a while. But I got back in control. It wasn't too hard to clean up. Just a lot of bleach.

Charles looked over at what came from my bag, noticing the lack of a file.

"Did you not find it?" My former partner asked me. "Is that some specialized water from the desk just for you? You didn't tell me they did that here."

"No, I found it," I assured him, lifting the glass bottle. "This is it."

Slowly, but surely, his expression dropped into a frown.

"Kevin, what's going on? That's not... That isn't a report. And even so, you can't just report on yourself. That isn't..."

He paused for a second, looking down.

"Since when do you like the studio this clean?"

I sighed, sitting down across from him. We had a good run. And I hate to see him go, but his life isn't my own, and neither is his way of productivity.

We want two different things, and that's alright.

"Normally, I don't," I assured him. "But I uh... When you leave a job, you normally have to clean up your mess from it."

He gave me a confused look.

"You're not... You're not quitting, are you?"

Choking up, I paused for a second. I could feel the tears, and I should be so happy.

But I'm not, and there's no easy way to fix it. A smile won't fix it.

"Kevin?" Charles asked, sounding more worried than ever. "Darling, what is... What's going on? What are you doing? You've never... You've never been like this."

I shook my head. He wasn't wrong.

Maybe.

"I uh..." I tried to explain to him, rubbing my hands together, anxious. "I'm leaving, Charles."

He sort of chuckled. It wasn't happy, but it was a humored response.

"Kevin, I'd love for you to come with, but the plane is booked and..."

"I'm not going with you," I clarified, grabbing his hand. "that was never my plan, Charles Thomas."

"So what's your plan?"

I smiled, saddened, because I wish my life was as clear as his is. As easy as his personality was. Relaxed, but coordinated.

"I guess that depends on how this goes," I told him as he squeezed my hand. I choked up for a second. This was hard. I don't know why it was hard. But it's been hard. I haven't been happy in a while. Going to church doesn't help anymore. There isn't much of anything that does. "If if works how an old friend of mine insisted it would, I go home. Not here. My old home, wherever it is. And if it's just a bust... I don't know."

"You don't know?" Charles questioned, knowing it sounded insane. "Kevin that isn't... What's gotten into you, darling?"

For a second, I couldn't breathe. I had to stop and focus on it, looking down at the floor. My face wasn't dry anymore.

"Charles, I'm not happy anymore," I tried to make him understand something that he never could. "I... It's..."

I stopped to breathe.

"I know that I should be happy," I went on, letting tears fall. I haven't cried in a few years, In sure. "And it's not sadness most of the time. It's... It's nothing. It's numbness. It's knowing that... To know that... That something isn't right. That I'll never really be on the good side of Strex because of how hard I fought them in the beginning."

Starting to shake, my vision blurred from the tears. There was so many of them.

"Strex took something from me, Charles," I explained. "something that I tried to find here. With Diego, originally. And then with you and Donovon. I'd be so lonely some days and... And I might have found what it was, and it's not here. It's not a lover, it isn't like that. That wasn't it."

I sighed.

"My show will be short," I promised it. "A simple goodbye to Desert Bluffs. But I need you here. I won't let you miss your flight. You have a few hours and priority access, pre checked."

"What am I...?"

"Whatever... Whatever Strex took from me when they took over," I concluded, pointing at the bottle. "Is in there. The answer to what I've been looking for. The truth is in there. And I need you here in case something goes wrong. Because if I can't get out of here fast enough, Charles, they'll kill me for rebellion."

"This isn't who I am, Charles."

I pointed back to the bottle once again. My name plastered all over it.

"That is."