The Fabric of our Souls

Lanston tosses my black duffle bag in his trunk. His smile is loose and hopeful.

Mine is as well, oddly enough.

Our bags don’t hold much, but there’s something exciting about that.

We can start new lives in Boston. It’s so far away and different from here. Buying new clothes and furniture, starting fresh—it’s like a token to a new world.

Liam stands behind us with a blank expression.

He’s been so broken up preparing himself for our departure this last week, but it’s more than that. It feels like he’s pulling away emotionally for our sake. So we don’t see how much it hurts him.

We begged him to reconsider, to just come with us to Boston. Liam, in all his stubbornness, declined.

There’s no way Crosby can be all-knowing. He wouldn’t be able to find us that far away, would he?

I’m not so sure anymore.

“You two drive safely. No racing or any of that shit,” Liam mutters like a father would to his children. “Don’t text me the address until you hear from me that it’s okay. We can’t be too careful.”

Lanston stretches his hand out and Liam clasps it. “We’ll be careful. And we’ll see you soon.” They pull each other into a brotherly hug and my heart aches with the way Liam’s brows pull together in anguish.

None of this was ever fair.

Liam holds me so fiercely it makes me think he’s changed his mind, but he loosens his hug, kisses me softly, and lets me go.

Lanston leans forward in the driver’s seat and looks at the rearview mirror with excitement and anxiety flashing in his eyes. The windows are rolled down halfway; the chill in the air skips across my forearm and raises goosebumps.

“I feel like shit for lying to him,” Lanston says reluctantly, glancing over at me. I nod. Lying makes me feel like a traitor. Even if it’s to help the man I love.

What else were we supposed to do though? We couldn’t just let him face Crosby alone. He refused to let us stay. So we had to sneak behind his back and make plans without him. Plans that don’t include Boston and being on the East Coast.

“So do I. But it’s only temporary,” I say, more to reassure myself than him but it seems to work by the way Lanston’s shoulders relax.

We drive into Bakersville and park in the alley behind the studio house we were able to rent last-minute.

It’s not like everything we told Liam was a lie. We do have the apartment in Boston ready. Our motorcycles are on their way there, along with all our things from our storage units. My brother is seeing to it that our apartment is furnished with a bed for our arrival, which James is under the impression is this week. We had to lie to more people than I’d like, but if Crosby is truly keeping an eye on us, we need everyone fooled.

Lanston puts his Mercedes in park and frowns at the small space allotted for his car in the alley. I pat his shoulder as I walk past him to retrieve my bag from the trunk.

“It will be fine out here.”

“Says you.” He pouts, but the hint of a smile hides behind his lips.

I grin and toss his bag to him. He barely catches it. “Says me.” I laugh and brush past him.

The studio is more like a garage that’s been converted into a rental space. Actually, I’m positive that’s what it is. Not a shroud of a doubt. The walls are bare, tanned with years of someone chain-smoking cigarettes. Pretty gross, given that this is a furnished rental. The curtains are stained and the carpet has burn holes riddled throughout.

Lanston drops his bag on the couch and looks around with a frown. “Change of plans. Let’s go to Boston,” he quips and walks back toward the door.

I laugh, setting my bag down next to his. “And let Liam deal with his brother alone?”

He groans dramatically before winking at me.

I don’t know what I’d do without Lanston. He’s become a rock in the void of my existence. He tethers me to the ground and I can breathe so freely in his presence. The world isn’t so scary and hopeless with him lighting up everything around us.

We spend the rest of the afternoon unpacking what little we have on hand. The bed is at least clean. I’m not so sure about the couch. Lanston plugs in his phone charger and checks the calendar.

Our plan is pretty shit. But it’s all we’ve got.

Today is Tuesday. Liam is meeting Crosby in the greenhouse in two days, like he did last week… when his hands were so terribly damaged. We are going to be lying in wait with weapons. We’ll call the police anonymously so they will arrive, but should things not go as planned, then we’ll improvise. There’s no way that night ends without Crosby being caught or taken care of.

We eat microwave noodles for dinner and huddle in the twin-size bed at midnight. It’s absurdly cold in this house. Neither of us could figure out how to work the stupid ancient heater and we gave up after a few hours of trying to Google instructions with no success.

“Hey, you asleep?” Lanston murmurs close to my ear, his arms wrapped around me.

“Not yet,” I whisper softly, brushing my thumb over his warm hands. They’re always so warm.

He takes a deep breath. “I keep thinking about what you said.”

I hesitate. My brain instantly jumps to the worst thing. He’s talking about our therapy session.

When I don’t respond, he continues. “I will never fully endure what you have, but I think I understand it. My father was always really mean to me. I couldn’t cognitively bring myself to accept why though. He hated me. More than hated me, he wanted me gone.” I swallow hard and my hands tighten around his. “I didn’t understand it… and I’ll never be okay. It hurts to admit. It hurts to say out loud. I will never be okay. And it is his fault. For a long time, I blamed myself. I would tell myself, ‘If I was just a better son. If I wasn’t so unbearable. If I tried harder.’ It took me a really fucking long time to realize. Fuck, I was just a kid.”

Tears fall from my eyes and wet my pillow. His voice breaks with emotion as he continues:

“All I wanted was for him to love me. I was just a kid. But he judged me like an adult for everything he blamed me for… So no, I don’t think I will ever understand exactly what you’ve felt, but God, did it hurt to hear you say it. Because I know the burden of wanting to die. To die, just so they can live without the weight of your existence.”

My jaw trembles and I shift in the bed to look at Lanston. His hazel eyes are watery and glisten with misery I feel down to my bones. My eyes trace the stitches that reach down to his forehead.

His fingers caress my cheek softly. “No one looks at me like you do, Wynn. When you look at me, I feel like I can shatter into a thousand birds and just… fly. You set my soul free from the chains I keep wrapped around my shoulders.” Lanston smiles wearily. He looks so tired. I wonder if that horrid man he calls father haunts him in his dreams too. I hate him. I’ve never hated someone I’ve never met so vehemently. Lanston is the gentlest soul I’ve ever known. One that would never hurt me.

Not like the others. Not like so many.

“You’re my best friend, Lanston. The closest soul I’ll know to my own. How rare that we’d find one another in this life. How beautiful that our illnesses would allow us to meet in such a horrible place. I love you. I’ll always love you dearly.”

His eyes close and a sad smile crosses his lips as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’re mine too, Wynn. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Liam knows that; I think that’s the only reason he trusts me with you. My love for you two… It’s endless. Like a sea that just keeps lowering the depths to make more room for the life we three have ahead.”

We fall asleep crying, hands clasped and hearts full.

Full of dreams.

Full of all our life not yet lived.