fifteen.

NATHAN DIDN'T EVEN want to know anymore. A result of either pride or dread, but he wasn't about to beg Adelaide to spit out whatever she had in mind.

So he just sat there. And in the silence, the throb pulsing along his skull was more torturous than ever, as if he had nothing to do but feel the pain.

"Nate?"

Nathan didn't answer Adelaide, didn't even move a muscle. He hoped she'd catch the hint.

"I feel like you're gonna punch me if I say this, but . . . " Adelaide's eyes must've been watching Nathan; he felt the weight without even looking. "Can I, uh, apologize one more time? I know you said you don't want me to but I feel horrible and—"

Nathan let out a loud and exasperated sigh. Then he said, "Some turtles breathe through their genitals."

"Alright. I'll shut up." Adelaide smiled slightly. "Where do you even learn this stuff?"

Nathan just shrugged, only to regret the action because it hurt enough for him to wince. Adelaide didn't say anything else, probably deciding to acknowledge his exhaustion and stop tormenting him with apologies.

Thoughts crept back into Nathan's head, and it took him three minutes to conjure enough energy to speak again. "When I fainted," he said. "What did the Director do? I mean, how did he react? Was he worried or what?"

"More like panicked." Adelaide squinted, and it made her look like she had bad eyesight too, except she was doing it for recollection. "I don't know. He seemed panicked to me. Like he got carried away, or like what he did wasn't supposed to happen."

Nathan frowned. He wouldn't tell Adelaide, but the first thing he thought of again was that the Director hadn't wanted him to die—not right then and there, at least. Carried away. Sounded about right.

Slumping further against the wall, Nathan shifted a little to his side but accidentally poked the bruise along his ribs and groaned as quietly as possible. He couldn't even move anymore without feeling a twinge.

Maybe this was a punishment—everything happening. For every lie, every broken promise, every selfish wish he'd ever had. Sure they weren't drastic but grouped together they could loom. Justice wasn't exactly a definite thing; scales were hundreds of kinds, but they weighed the same shit in the end.

"Careful," Adelaide said, holding Nathan's wrist and extending his arm in a way that didn't pressure the plastered wound.

Nathan hadn't even noticed he'd curved his arm. He didn't really react, but he gave Adelaide a small questioning look. Something like, why do you care that much? but he doubted she'd catch it.

Apparently Adelaide did, because she sighed after a short pause and absently traced the outline of Nathan's thumb. "When I was eleven," she said, "my uncle wounded his hand with an ax. He was a lumberjack. It was pretty bad, but he kept saying it's fine. I told him he needs a doctor but he just wouldn't listen to me. He didn't even take care of it. I don't know what he was thinking. Like, did ignoring a wound make him brave?"

Nathan just looked at Adelaide, anticipating her to continue after the question. She angled her head half-way towards him, kinda like wanting and not wanting to hold eye-contact. Or maybe not sure if Nathan would tell her shut up or what.

So Nathan said, "Yeah?"

Adelaide snapped out of her trance. "Yeah, so it got infected really bad. And when he finally decided to go to the doctor, it was too late. They had to amputate his thumb."

"Well shit." Nathan made a revulsed face. He'd say the dude should've just gotten it checked earlier, but clearly it wasn't the time for that. "I'm guessing that's why you're always worried about my wounds?"

Adelaide laughed a little. "Yeah. It started ever since my uncle lost his thumb. After that, I couldn't even get the tiniest paper-cut without panicking about it. I know it's ridiculous, but I just can't help it."

"It's not ridiculous. I get it," Nathan said. "We all have these little things." A part of him hoped Adelaide would push him now, ask him about his little thing so he could vent, but she didn't. His heart sank slightly.

No one spoke for the next four minutes. When Nathan felt a little ache in his belly, he splayed a palm along his stomach and frowned. Best time for that, really.

Adelaide must've noticed that. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Nathan mumbled, scooting further down until he sprawled entirely on the floor, leaning his head on his arm. The position made his side hurt, so he turned. Now his back hurt, so he flipped again. The floor suddenly felt too icy-cold. As if the world was conspiring to make him more miserable. He knew Adelaide was probably watching him battle himself for a comfortable position, so he stopped, letting out a long exasperated sigh.

"If I survive this," Nathan said as he decided to lie on his side, the least painful position, "I'm gonna buy one of these super fancy vibrating waterbeds."

Adelaide shook her head. "Rich kids . . ."

This made Nathan's heart squeeze for a second. He blinked fast, then relaxed again. Rich kids. Spoiled brats. Right. "I was joking." Closing his eyes, he remembered his mom's face right before he'd left for the airport and it killed him now. "If I survive this, I won't ever leave my family again. And I'm not letting them leave."

"Wait, no, I didn't mean it like that. Sorry, I was joking, like you." Adelaide leant down, propping herself on an elbow, face cradled in her palm. Awkward silence. "Hey, uh . . . I never asked you, why did you come to France?"

Nathan debated if he should answer or not, mostly because he couldn't trust himself to not cry like an idiot. "I wanted to see my dad." Just a couple words in and his throat already tightened. "He travels a lot for his job. I missed him so much and I was like, that's it, I'm coming. Mom and Grace didn't want me to travel alone because I'm claustrophobic and I hate planes, and. . ."

Trailing off wasn't Nathan's thing. But here he was, strained silence swallowing the words in his mouth. How different would things have been if he'd never traveled? He came for his dad but there was a huge chance he'd die before he'd ever see him again.

Nathan only realized he'd zoned out when he felt Adelaide's hand softly hold his. He looked up at her, and she was smiling but the halfheartedness in it was painfully noticeable.

"I think you're a strong boy, Nate," Adelaide said. "For tolerating everything that's happened so far. Before this happened, before he kidnapped you, did you ever imagine you'd be able to handle this?"

Nathan immediately remembered when he'd first woken up in this place. The first few hours. He'd feared possible pain. God, he'd been so oblivious. And yeah, he lived through it. But Adelaide made it sound important. And as sweet as that was, Nathan knew she was only saying it so he wouldn't lose hope.

"Did you?" Nathan asked.

"Me?" Again with the hair tucking, but this time Adelaide's hair was already curved behind her ear so the action was just flat-out awkward and pointless. "What did I handle? Watching you get tortured? Watching you faint?"

Nathan realized how awful this conversation was. How the hell did it even turn to this? Faint. He tried to take his mind off it, but he remembered something and it'd work pretty well to change the subject.

"When I woke up, I heard you praying in French," Nathan said. "That's pretty much the second time you speak French since we've met."

Thankfully, Adelaide noticed Nathan wanted to change the subject. "Yeah well . . . I have another story for this one. Wanna hear it?"

It would be rude to say no anyway, so Nathan nodded.

"When I lived in America, I used to mix French and English a lot. Like, in a sentence I used both. And my friends would go like ugh we get that you're bilingual stop rubbing it in the face." Adelaide actually made a high-pitched mock voice to go with the recollection. "So yeah, I stopped mixing languages because I don't want people thinking I'm rubbing it in their face. I bet you can tell I get traumatized . . . easily. First my uncle, and then this."

If Nathan didn't feel as drained, he'd be holding the conversation as always. But today he wasn't feeling anything more than a shrug or a nod. When he noticed her looking at him, as if anticipating a reaction, he realized how inadequate the silence was.

"That's bullshit," he said. "It wouldn't bother me if you mix languages a little. I mean, it happens. Do whatever you want."

"Yeah. I wish everyone thinks like you." Adelaide sighed loudly as she straightened. "So," she said, clapping her hands on her knees, "I'm gonna get your jacket for your head, yeah? Rest until Act Five comes."

Nathan watched her stand up, and before she turned to fetch his jacket, she looked at him with soft eyes, then bent down enough to poke his dimple lightly. The gesture couldn't have been more piteous—it kinda made Nathan's belly ache intensify, and kinda made him smile.

Tracing the cracks in the floor with his fingertip, Nathan listened as Adelaide folded his jacket then handed it over. He adjusted it under his head, and by then Adelaide had settled down again.

Nathan couldn't help but think about the situation again, in its entirety. The person behind the chords. Son. Stop moving. Son. Stop moving. What Adelaide had meant with big disaster. But he kept it for himself.

All he could hear was his own heavy breath through his nose. Nothing else—absolutely nothing, as if Adelaide didn't exist even though she was right there and he could see her knees. Nathan shifted, hand progressing up until he clutched the edge of the jacket under his head.

"Your stomach's hurting, isn't it?"

Nathan just nodded.

"Probably the nerves. Uh . . . try to relax or it's gonna get worse."

So Nathan really, really didn't want to do this but subconsciously a muscle in him tensed. Try to relax. Easier to do when you weren't the one subjected to all the physical pain. But he forced himself into silence so he wouldn't spew out shit he'd regret later.

With a final sigh, Nathan closed his eyes. They burnt for a second—enough to pool water—but then the strain faded.

Adelaide suddenly shifted. Nathan quickly glanced at her; she was looking past him, straight at the door. His blood clotted. In his position, he could see Adelaide's palm flat against the floor as she pushed herself to her feet then hastened across him towards the door.

"Act Five?"

"Yeah," Adelaide said.

Nathan didn't find it in him to move. He waited until Adelaide stepped back in his field of view, dangling his copy down to him. As she sat down, he grabbed it from her and briefly skimmed the front-page through squinty eyes.

Grunting quietly, Nathan pushed his torso up until he was leaning his shoulder against the wall, but still half-slouched. He looked past his copy and found Adelaide frowning at hers. Her fingers gripped the paper hard. Too impossibly hard—the entire thing was starting to crumple.

So Nathan frowned as well. Instead of asking her first, he decided to leaf through the script himself. Must've been something weird they had to do. Another kiss maybe.

Not even half a page in and Adelaide's shaky breath distracted Nathan again; he gave her a wary look. Sure she'd always looked apprehensive and queasy reading the script, but this time, with her face paling almost humorously fast, something had to be wrong.

"Adelaide?" Nathan tried. "Are you okay?"

Silence, but the dreary kind. "N-No," Adelaide finally mumbled, shaking her head, fingers quaking. "This- This can't happen. This can't be true."

Nathan quickly realized that this script probably confirmed the theory she'd thought about. And taking in what she'd said—big, big disaster—the terror already stirred in Nathan's chest.

"Adelaide, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong." Nathan hadn't even realized he'd already sat up straight and tense. "Is what you thought about true?"

"Yeah!" Adelaide flung her copy into the distance and quickly gathered herself against the bedside, her knees curved. She pressed her palms to her face. "Gosh, it's true. E-Everything I was scared of. I-It's true."

Nathan allowed her personal space but he needed to know. "Okay. I get it. Can you tell me what it is? What you're talking about?"

Adelaide just about sobbed quietly into her hands for a minute, and Nathan gave her the time even with his heart racing faster than ever. Then her breath evened out a little. Swallowing and shakily wiping her flushed cheeks, she looked at Nathan again.

At this point, Nathan was close to cursing and shouting because this wait was tearing his nerves.

But then Adelaide finally said, "The play . . . all the acts . . . It's exactly what happened to my mom, Nathan. Exactly what happened to her!"

She cried out after the establishment. Nathan stared, dumbfounded for a second. Only blinking. And thinking, but on a subconscious level.

"And- And if I represent Luna's daughter," Adelaide spluttered out, each word a tremor, and looked Nathan in the eye, "then . . . then you're . . . you're Dolion's son."

__________

a/n: now we're towards the end of the book and things miiight get crazy. Watcha think?

Thanks for reading/voting/commenting!❤️