Page 28 of Solo Stan

Elias

Elias’s feet slapped against the wet sidewalk as he ran down the street. He squinted as water rushed into his eyes, making it difficult to read the store signs. They’d walked past First Draught earlier in the night. He just had to keep following the map in his mind.

Finally, he spotted it—a squat brick building painted black.

Elias’s heart pounded in his ears as he half expected to see Dakarai waiting there for him in the rain.

All that greeted him when he got near were windows completely plastered with posters from old concerts, skateboard stickers, and vinyl record covers, and the growing roar of the storm.

He knelt down to peer inside through a small, foggy gap.

“Where is he?” Elias muttered. He should have stayed put—if he had, they’d be inside right now—dry, warm, and, most importantly, together.

Elias felt a pang of regret that was instantly replaced by a chill down his spine when someone tapped on his shoulder.

Elias spun around to find Dakarai standing there, drenched, his clothes clinging to his body.

Rain droplets streamed down his face, tracing the curve of his jaw, down his throat, and along his collarbones.

A sudden surge of excitement charged the air, and Elias instinctively reached for Dakarai, who reached for him back.

For the briefest moment, quicker than a single heartbeat, it seemed that their lips might meet in a celebratory kiss.

Instead, Elias cupped Dakarai’s cheek, holding on to him like he’d been searching for him for the last five years, since finding that crumpled portrait in the park, and not just since the Night Market.

Elias’s soaked clothes made him hyperaware of every sensation, from the trickle he felt leaking down the back of his neck to the warmth he felt coming from Dakarai’s hands on his waist.

Elias blew the rain from his mouth. “You figured it out on your own?”

“I did. Just like you asked me to,” Dakarai said, almost in a whisper, as if he was running out of breath. “How did you do it?”

“I hacked the cryptex. But where did you go?”

“You got me a thoughtful gift, and I wanted to get you something too. It’s stupid though,” Dakarai said, holding up a can of soda.

Elias narrowed his eyes in confusion—he didn’t recall telling Dakarai he was thirsty. Still, he reassured him, saying, “It’s not stupid.”

Gently, Dakarai pressed the can against the bridge of Elias’s nose, with the heel of it resting neatly in the hollow of his eye.

The chill provided a quick reprieve, making him realize just how much the headache had been bothering him.

The gesture was so simple, so sweet, and so on-brand for Dakarai.

It warmed Elias, and for a moment, he forgot just how cold he had been and how hopeless he’d felt only minutes before.

“You could have just kissed it better,” Elias said with a forced laugh.

Without missing a beat, Dakarai lowered the can and leaned in closer.

His ragged breath matched Elias’s own. Instinctively, Elias shut his eyes, knees buckling as Dakarai’s lips grazed the spot where he’d been struck just a week ago.

Dakarai planted a soft kiss, then another, and another.

“We’ve got the rest of the night,” Dakarai rasped, leaving one final kiss lingering on the lid of Elias’s eye. “Let’s get out of this rain.”

Elias nodded. It was all he could do.