Kay sat on a giant round cushion placed in the airport waiting area, right in the middle of a semicircle of shops. A few other commuters shared the seating with her, chatting happily to each other. It sounded so weird, so inappropriate that people could still be happy.

She should be, too. Angie was alive and well. About to get her heart crushed into a million pieces. Kay looked at her trembling hands. If Kyle had died, she'd rather had died with him than have to go through what Angie was about to. She knew she should call her friend, tell her the news, but she couldn't. Fortunately Sam had offered to do it instead.

"Hey." Kyle crouched in front of her, an ice cream in his hand. "I got you ice cream."

She looked from him to the cone. It was sweet, but she didn't want ice cream. "Where are the others?"

"Mostly searching for food." He licked the edge of the cone to stop the cream from dripping down. "Here."

Kay took the ice cream, but kept her eyes on him. How could he act so normal? Act. She'd been such a shitty girlfriend. "How are you?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Tom's your brother, not mine and still, through all this, you somehow ended up comforting me when it should be the other way around."

Was his brother. Her heart tightened at the thought because she'd loved Tom, too, as a friend and as a brother. Because he'd made Angie happy, because he'd been the only person to tell her that Kyle loved her and they'd find each other again when everyone else kept telling her to move on...

"Hey." He put his hand on her cheek. "I know you cared about him, too. And about Angie."

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "I feel like I'm breaking down worse than I should. If you can keep it together, then so should I."

Kyle winced and looked away from her. "To be honest, I'm mostly in denial."

Kay tilted her head. Ice cream dripped on her hand. Damn, she really didn't want it right now, but she started licking at it to prevent it from melting all over her. "Talk to me," she said, her mouth full. Ugh. She passed the cone to him.

He took it and studied it carefully, as if it were the most fascinating thing on the planet. "It's still there, you know. The darkness. Trying to sink its claws into me, take me out. This is my way of fighting it."

She had no idea what to say to that. She just shivered. Kyle shrugged and took a bite of the ice cream before passing it back to her.

"I wish I could actually help you."

"You are helping." He bit his lip, his forehead scrunched in confusion and pain. "I'm just... If it wasn't for Sam's feeling, I wouldn't have believed it. Because it's stupid. I mean Eddie was on the same plane and he survived."

A spark of hope filled Kay's chest as she watched him. He was right. But Sam... If Tom wasn't dead, then what did Sam feel? She shook her head and took another bite of ice cream. It was painful to her teeth, but she wanted to finish it as fast as possible.

"How am I helping?"

"Are you kidding?"

No, she really had no idea. She took the final bite of the cone just to find that her hands and mouth were unbearably sticky. "Great, I don't even have a napkin—"

Kyle took her face in his hands and kissed her. Her entire body instantly relaxed and she circled her hands around his neck, trying not to get ice cream in his hair. She enjoyed the warmth, the pressure, kissed him back timidly, expecting him to pull away any second. He didn't. He just rose higher, pushing her back on the cushion, towering over her. The pleasant warmth turned into raging fire.

Her fingers dug into his hair and she pulled him lower, matching the intensity of his kiss. It had been such a long time since they'd kissed like this, like it was only the beginning and they had the time and space to take it further. And behind her closed eyelids, she could see it again. The bed, the weak light, Kyle looking at her as if her were about to devour her; and he would have if they hadn't been rudely interrupted. She wanted that so much.

Ah, crap. She broke away. "Kyle, we're in public." The words were barely there, covered by labored breathing and her traitorous body's desire to never stop.

"They don't mind," Kyle mumbled and kissed her again, leaning over her.

"Kyle!"

Well, apparently someone minded. The broke apart and she glanced over Kyle's shoulder. Jerry gawked at them, his eyes wide and mouth set in a disapproving line. And Kay actually felt embarrassed because he totally had a point.

Kyle pulled away from her, his eyes shut tightly and heaved a sigh. "Sorry, Jerry." But when he opened his eyes and looked at her, there was nothing apologetic in his stare. "So not sorry."

She smiled, straightening in her seat. She wasn't sorry either, because she'd really missed this. Ever since they met, they'd both been guarded, cautious. Now the gloves were off, and they were back where they'd actually left off. And she couldn't be happier.

But as she gave Jerry a sheepish smile, she realized it wouldn't be that easy. Because she knew Jerry well enough to realize that the narrowed eyes and suspicious expression only translated into Kyle's brother becoming their unofficial chaperone.

⭐⭐⭐

Jerry was a monster. Even if he'd grown up with him and had been the target of more lectures than he could count, Sam had never been subjected to such a thorough and well-structured scolding as the one Kyle and Kay received about PDA. Sure, Jerry pointed out that this also applied to Jimmy and Jessie though they hadn't crossed the line yet. And what an apocalyptic yet it had been.

On the three hour flight from Frankfurt to Malta, Jerry placed himself between Kyle and Kay and kept hissing that no one, absolutely no one, wanted to see other people kissing, so they should basically keep it in their pants for another ten years or so. He brought up privacy, discrimination, and small children into the equation, which Sam found pretty unfair.

"You don't see Tina and I displaying our affection for others to see," Jerry argued on. "We keep to ourselves, as should you and everyone else."

"Come on, Jerry, you two don't even kiss," Kyle said, exasperated.

Mistake! Even if Kyle was right, another hour of 'mind your own business' lecture followed. The whole incident was strangely the first thing to break through Sam's numbness. He was mildly amused both by Jerry's passion and Kyle cringing every few phrases. Kay had probably fallen asleep through the whole thing. Jimmy and Jessie just looked pained because Jerry made sure to mention that he wouldn't tolerate the two of them embarrassing themselves in public either, so Sam now took the middle seat.

But Sam's amusement came with a price. No longer numb, he remembered something he'd forgotten to do: tell Christine that he was actually leaving. She'd tried to call him, even came over to talk, but he'd completely avoided her, not answering her calls and locking himself in his room. He knew it was stupid and childish, that he was being a terrible boyfriend, but he was doing this for her as well. He didn't want to lash out at her, place blame there that didn't belong. Before facing her again, he had to pull himself together and figure out what he wanted from her, from their relationship.

Because if there was one thing Jerry was wrong about, it was no one carrying about Kyle and Kay's relationship, or Jimmy and Jessie's. Sam cared. He liked to see them together, the tenderness between them, the way they teased and comforted each other. It showed him it was possible, and that was the relationship he wanted for himself.

Christine was definitely not giving him that. She wasn't a refuge, she was another judge – the strictest of them all, and he couldn't take it, not now. But that didn't excuse his rudeness or leaving without telling her.

So once they cleared security in Malta, Sam took his phone out and dialed Christine's number.

The airport was tiny, with two levels and only a few duty free shops. It was also mostly empty at that time of day. The sun had just risen, and the light coming through the doors was barely noticeable among the neon lights.

The others headed for the baggage claim area, but he stayed behind, waiting, wondering what time it was in Chicago. It was probably late night, so why wasn't she answering? He dialed again when the line cut off. He could send her a message, but after all the silence, it was hardly enough.

Still, she didn't answer, and Sam found his mind wondering off to Angie. Maybe he should call her first. But that conversation would take longer and probably sap him of the energy he had left, because he'd have to say the words again, and to someone who loved Tom as much as he did.

He absently dialed again, wondering how to phrase this to Angie. How could he say something like that and make it not hurt more than it had to? Maybe if he—

"Yeah."

Sam flinched and almost dropped his phone. Christine had finally answered, her voice annoyed, loud music somewhere in her vicinity.

"Where are you?" Sam asked before he could help himself.

"Oh, so now you suddenly care?"

He swallowed heavily. Christine sounded raging mad. Not that he could blame her after the way that he'd behaved, but still... He was in mourning. Just control yourself. You're better than this.

"Of course I care." Okay, that came out pissed instead of nice.

Christine just huffed. "What do you want?"

Sam slapped his forehead. Honest truth? He wanted to hang up so bad. "Nothing. Forget it. We'll talk later."

"You're seriously doing this? It took you days to call and you're just going to hang up on me?"

Would you rather I yelled at you? "I'm not in the right mindset to talk right now."

"You never are," she snapped.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Okay, gloves were off. He was done with her crap. He felt bad enough without her making him sound like a douche.

"I'm sick of you ignoring me, of me practically having to beg you for attention."

"Um, what?"

"Do you think all those trips to your fancy smanshy school are a pleasure? But it's the only way I can make sure Lisa doesn't sink her claws into you."

Sam's grip tightened on the phone. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're like a little mouse chased around by alley cats. And I'm sick of chasing you, of making sure you won't stray." Christine's voice rose with every word until she was practically screaming at him.

"Christine, are you legitimately scared I would cheat on you? I thought we were past this." Above it. Apparently they weren't above anything.

"When's the last time you gave me any attention, huh?" she asked, seething. "I tried to be by your side in all this mess and all you do is push me away."

"Okay, this is getting—"

"And you have the nerve to ask me where I am, as if I'm the one not answering her phone or her texts!"

Sam shut his eyes, fighting the impulse to hang up and throw his phone at the wall. Anger wouldn't solve anything and he really needed his phone, but she was driving him mad, sinking arrows in the most tender parts, playing on his insecurities.

"I'm sick of this, Sam. Of all your bullshit. Of everything and everyone in your life being more important than me."

Pause. A long pause only interrupted by the music in the background on her end. Sam took in a breath and held it in, his mind trying to dismiss or confirm her accusations. His heart was much further along. It broke with a sickening crack, because he'd already made his decision. This wasn't working. And the thought smothered him almost as much as Tom's death.

"I'm sick of it, too, Christine."

"What?" She honestly sounded surprised.

"Sick of your nagging, of your judgment, of always, always making it about you. Sick of how little you care about everyone around you."

"You're not serious," she said in disbelief. Her tone lost the accusing edge, the unflinching sharpness, but it was once again too little too late.

"I'm dead serious. This is clearly not working. I think at this point we're basically just torturing each other."

"Sam. Sam, what are you doing?" Her voice was drenched in panic now and she could obviously see what was coming.

"I think we should just each go our own way." That was putting it mildly and politely. They were obviously not right for each other. But then why did it hurt so damn much? Why could he barely breathe and clutched at his chest desperately as if he could still salvage something?

"You're breaking up with me? Over the phone?"

Inconvenient, but better now before he lost his nerve. "Yes."

"You asshole!"

He flinched because she had a point. He should be doing this face to face. He would have if he weren't half-way around the world. But there was no point dragging it out. What she thought of him didn't matter anymore.

"Why are you doing this? Don't you love me anymore?" She'd gone from anger to pleading in a matter of seconds and her words, the hurt in her voice, cut him into pieces.

Did he still love her? Had he ever? He was a kid, he had no idea what love was. But it still broke him to end it, he still wished she was happy and hated that he made her cry. Yes, he definitely cared about her. A lot. And yes, he wanted what Kyle and Kay had with her. Was that love? Did it matter?

"Sam, please. Don't do this to me. I love you." She was crying. He'd made her cry.

"You've changed," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"When I met you, you were sweet and funny and..." So beautiful. She still was, but the colors of her soul had switched from rainbow to a dull grey. "Now you nag me all the time." Try to change me.

"I'm still that girl, Sam. I swear I am."

"I love that girl." His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Christine paused and sniffed. "I love her, too. I don't know where she went, but I'll get her back."

A bubble of hope, so fragile and so easy to burst, lightened the load on his shoulders the tiniest bit. Because he was a moron, and a sucker, and a tool, but he wanted the old Christine back. He wanted to sit with her on a park bench and laugh at the silliest things. He wanted to eat ice cream with her and discuss the weather. He wanted to just hang out without the pressure of constant criticism.

"If I get her back, will you give me another chance? Because I can totally see I messed up big time."

"I'm not exactly innocent myself. You're right about me ignoring you." Even if she was constantly on his mind, he kept her like a blissful shrine, never treated her as a friend, as a real person. She was like a goddess, perfect but not real. Not there.

Christine let out a laugh. "We're a bunch of naïve kids. We'll fix it, Sam."

He shook his head. "Maybe. But until then, you're free."

She once again fell silent, her breathing labored, as if she was trying to stop herself from crying again. "Okay. I'll give you some space."

He nodded even if she couldn't see. He didn't need the space, he needed her, but not if she couldn't pull herself together. So he did what was best for them. "Goodbye, Christine." And without waiting for her answer, he hung up.

There it was. He'd broken up with his girlfriend, yet he didn't feel free. He felt more trapped than ever, more scared, more vulnerable. He hadn't even told her where he was. Not that it mattered anymore.

He turned towards the exit. The others were already there, luggage in hand, looking at him with pained expressions on their faces. Oh. They'd obviously heard that. He only shrugged and retrieved his rucksack from Kyle.

"Come on. We have a job to do."

🌟🌟🌟

Okay, I have to admit I probably had too much fun with this chapter. Both sections. 😇

I'd like general thoughts on the Kyle/Kay scene and how you feel about it. If you need more details or you think their conversation should be longer.

Sam and Christine... Well, that went down in the gutter fast. Anyone sorry about it at this point? Do you think they'll get back together?

Thanks so much for reading. Vote for the cow 🐄