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Chapter forty-seven

Forest

“I saw it. I saw them get pushed beyond the ward,” I mutter, forcing my knees to my chest as I stay seated on one of the many mats in the conditioning center.

Fallan pauses, stopping himself from taking another swing toward the bags.

A whole day of school had droned by, ending with me going to the Unfortunate sector the minute I caught wind of my parents staying at work later than expected. The night of the Solstice dinner Xavier apparently offered to take Kai to see the observatory that housed all of the organic matter our scientists had been experimenting with. Given everything that’s been going on the last few days, leaving school early to do something he enjoys was warranted.

My bag was filled with more training gear these days than schoolbooks. To my surprise, I’d instinctively headed to the Unfortunate sector after class, not expecting my legs to carry me here after the draining hours of the school day. With a few kind looks and a lot of concentration, swaying the Officials standing guard to let me in with their IDs had been nothing short of a cakewalk.

My abilities are growing stronger, making me less fatigued after expelling large bursts of energy.

I had nearly made it to my first turn when I saw Officials dragging several Unfortunates to their knees. They wore gray robes and were elderly in the face. Their wrists were bound together as they were pushed around like animals in a slaughterhouse. They were taken all the way to the edge of the broken ward, the Officials taunting them with promises of what was about to happen to them.

“We won’t make it out there,” the man cries, grabbing the Official's pants, begging for support.

All the woman next to him could do was cry, consumed by her fears.

I stood back and watched in horror as my people forced the hooded pair past the tear in the ward, threatening to slam their prods deep within their chests if they dared to try and come back into the sector. At a certain point, the prods were replaced with the barrel of a pistol, leaving nothing but the ever-expanding land of ash as the last viable option for escape. Several family members of the two Unfortunates pleaded with the Officials, whaling out their grief as they watched them cross over the ward.

As I finished telling Fallan what happened, I couldn’t help the tears I shed. The cruelty of this place never got any easier. But I felt like a coward right now, believing I could have... should have... done more.

“You couldn’t interfere, Forest,” Fallan says, addressing my solemn expression.

Given his cold attitude these past few days, the last thing I expected was kindness.

“Why not? If I have the means to do something about it-”

“Your abilities are not something to be thrown around on a whim. Do you have any idea what would happen if someone found out what we are?” he questions, scolding me like a child.

“You don't think I could stop someone from harming me?” I question.

He moves to me, swiping his leg toward my feet. I step back from the motion, only to be met with his hand pulling my front, dragging me into him. Wrapping his arm around my front, he forces my back to his chest. Unsheathing his blade, he holds the weapon to my neck.

“I have my doubts,” he whispers, the sharp edge of the blade pointed away from my skin.

Grabbing his arm, I try to look into his mind, meeting nothing but that infuriating wall meant to keep me out. Frustrations high, I focus on his blade, bending the metal at my will, watching it fall to pieces at his feet. Forcing my head up with his hand, he looks down at me, giving me a long look of approval before finally releasing me.

“That's new,” he says, grabbing the broken pieces. “When did you start taking an interest in destroying things?” he questions, unamused with my handiwork.

“I'll answer that when you stop shutting me out,” I mutter, his eyes darting to me.

“Last time I checked, you’re keeping me out as well.”

“Wonder why,” It scoffs.

My thoughts exactly.

Fallan tosses the pieces of his blade into his bag, pausing as he stares down into its opening. He reaches down and pulls out my sketchbook, his hands careful with its worn front. The last place I’d seen this was under his bed, but I was too busy trying not to get discovered by Officials to question why he had it. Running his hand along the cover, he extends his arm toward me, holding it out in the air between us.

“I didn't know art was your thing,” I say sarcastically, meeting the surface of the sketchbook with my fingertips. He holds on to the cover, almost as if he’s not ready to let it go.

“I told myself I’d use it when the time came to get you in hot water with an Official. Given your name on the cover, it seemed like a perfect way to blame you for sharing supplies with an Unfortunate like me,” he shrugs, closing the space between us so I can take the sketchbook.

“Why didn’t you?” I question, looking up to him. “Why didn't you just turn me in? You would have saved yourself a great deal of trouble had you just made up some story and turned me in. My scorecard is almost red. They would have punished me severely.”

He frowns and then unexpectedly moves to touch my cheek, grazing his thumb along the soft above my jaw. His front is brushed against mine as my shaky hands take the sketchbook from him.

“I would have ripped out their throats before they could have even thought of harming you,” he mutters, his thumb moving to trail along my lower lip. I lean a little closer, my breath uneven with anticipation. “No one will ever hurt you again as long as I’m around.”

He backs away, my body stumbling forward at the sudden space between us. I steady myself, noticing a page poking out from the sketchbook. I open the cover to find an array of new artwork.

Countless graphite drawings of me from numerous angles consume the pages. Each one showed a moment I didn't know I was being watched. I hover my finger above my smile, feeling how well the observer captured moments when I felt peace.

“You wondered all that time ago what I was working on… what inspired me,” Fallan says, turning away to hide his face. I think of that day in the art room, his hidden canvas shielded from everyone.

“Your smile has haunted me for longer than you know. Drawing it adds to the pain of knowing none of those smiles were meant for me. But when I look at these pictures, sometimes I pretend it’s me you’re smiling at.”

I feel his pain. It's the same pain I keep bottled up.

“I drew you for the same reason,” I begin, ready to show him the few drawings I’d made of him before losing the work.

“I saw them,” he starts, turning on his heels, “I made you believe I wanted you dead when you made those,” he continues, moving back toward me. “Why the hell would you have drawn me like I’m anything short of a vile 'bottom feeder?'” he questions, throwing my wording back at me.

I shake my head at him, reflecting on the images I had captured through stolen glances of him. I think of that night at the bonfire and the moment we shared as children.

“We've met before, not in passing, not for a moment. We've met. There’s history between us,” I begin, taking a step towards him. He takes one back, unwilling to explore this topic.

“Forest-”

“You don't get to avoid this anymore,” I snap, toying with the necklace around my neck. “You gave this to me, and ever since then, I’ve never taken it off. I remember what it felt like to have your hands on me,” I push, no longer able to avoid this. “Your presence intoxicates me to the point where I feel like I’m going mad. Feeling this connection is so natural.”

He stands still, his eyes dead set on me.

“What are you so afraid of?”

He snaps, his mental wall cracking under the pressure. As he moves towards me, I backstep until my back hits the wall. His hands grasp the sides of my face, his fears swirling within him, ready to burst free.

“Losing you!” he yells, his voice layered with different emotions. I navigate the open door in his mind. The visual of a man and a woman with eerily similar features to him lie motionless and pale on the ground.

His parents.

“Damn it, Forest! Can’t you fucking see? I lose everyone in one way or another.” A vivid image of my father passes through my mind.

“My parents, friends, family-”

More and more faces flash in front of me, all of them dead.

“And then for one fucking moment,” he continues, the night of the bonfire filling my mind. “There you were. Fragile and innocent, like a small bird.” His hands move away from my face and down my side. “And I wanted to keep that one good thing safe.” His hands squeeze my hips, my face flush with blood flow. “And they threatened to take it all… to take you away. A whole person wiped away with a little pill,” he continues, my heart breaking. “And now they threaten me again, no longer with a pill, but with your bloodshed.”

“I want you,” he starts, his mind rampant. “And they know that.”

“Who knows that?” I question, thinking of every possible way I want to hurt them for taking away his happiness.

He shakes his head, a faint, resigned smile spreading across his face.

“You can't bring them all down, Little Dove. Nothing is worth watching you die because I was not strong enough to stay away,” he whispers. “One kiss and I can never walk away. One kiss and I am yours until the day my heart stops.”

Every fiber of my being needs him at this moment.

“Don’t push me away,” I plea, a small tear escaping my eye.

I sense the pain my words cause him, feeling its heaviness in my chest.

“I have to, or else we can’t even have this… and worse, I end up losing you,”

I half expect the walls of his mind to go back up. Moments pass, and the door stays open, every raw emotion pouring down through me, and I’m ready to break.

“I will keep you safe,” he whispers, taking in every feature of my face. His thumb wipes away the tear that had made its way down my cheek and onto my lips. My energy dwindles as I continue to look around his mind.

“That I can promise.”

Dropping the sketchbook, I feel his arms wrap around me, keeping me from falling to the floor. Burying my face in his chest, I listen to his heart, wondering how long I can stand here before he pushes me away.

“Fallan! Are you here?” Aaron’s voice booms through the gym.

Fallan hesitantly let's go, his walls going back into place once more. Grabbing the sketchbook, he tucks it away in my bag, watching as his red-headed friend enters the space. My body tenses up at the sight of Valerie trailing behind him. She locks eyes with me from across the room, her arms crossed before she’s even made it over to us.

Aaron looks giddy, his grin widening at the sight of us together.

“You must be special for him to see you this many times in one week,” Aaron starts, his hand clapping Fallan’s back, “I hope it's worth putting a target on all of our backs to get your quick Untouchable fix,” Aaron pushes. Fallan is quick to shove away from his friend.

“Did you come in here just to run your mouth?” Fallan questions, anger now obvious in his expression.

“We came to take you back to the bakery. Jolie needs some extra hands to prep for the social tonight,” Valerie says, moving in front of me, doing her best to keep me away from Fallan.

“What time should I come?” I question, watching her body tense up at the question. “Assuming I bring Kai, he’ll want to know too,” I finish. Aaron's smile consumes his whole face.

“Ask Hunter. He’s the only one who wants you there,” Valerie starts, ready to lean into Fallan. He steps away, creating a divide between them.

Gradually, I creep into the cracks of her mind, focusing on navigating the spaces like Fallan has shown me, synching my breathing to her own. Where I half expect to feel the desire for Fallan brewing inside of her, I feel nothing. Taking a step toward the woman, we meet at eye level, and a wave of heady lust and longing washes over me.

This jealousy was never meant for any man.

Her beautiful face scowls. My hand reaches up to tuck a small piece of hair behind her ear. I smile gently at her, moving my lips to the side of her face.

“To think I was going for you,” I whisper, her mouth dropping at my response.

Fallan’s mouth curls into a smile. Aaron’s eyes widen at the statement. Looking over her face, her cheeks begin to redden. Her reaction to my touch is all the evidence I need to prove why she’s been so cold towards me.

“She has a crush?” It questions, a tiny lick of satisfaction working over me.

Valerie is lost for words. My hands fall from her face. Giving the boys one last look, I grab my bag, lingering near Fallan, ready for any snide remarks. Valerie stands still, her hands clenched together.

“I will see you all tonight,” I say, watching Fallan cross his arms.

Turning toward the exit, the group begins to whisper. Aaron teases Valerie, nudging her arm while she stands transfixed, an unamused look on her face.

“Did you do that to prove a point?” Fallan questions silently, my smile growing.

“Depends… did it work?” I question, a hint of his amusement passing through the connection.

“Don’t get any more bright ideas, Little Dove.”

There are two things, and only two things I know for sure.

One:

It’s not just my people Fallan is scared of. Something happened to him, leaving behind scars that remind him to be afraid.

And Two:

My feelings for Fallan are deeper than I could have imagined… and I think these feelings have been there all along.