A MAN WITH NO HOME
Tell me, sweet stranger, do you know the story of Normant Lumensky, the man from a mystical land universes away from Earth? Making an ark out of his chains, he turns from a prisoner of war into a fugitive.
A WOMAN AGAINST THE WOR...
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I HAD SPENT SO MANY NIGHTS in lavish hotel rooms that I was not fascinated by the velvet tapestries, the grandiose halls, the big windows and being treated like royalty anymore. Instead, as I was making my way down the long corridor of the Four Seasons Hotel, the black walls seemed to come closer and closer. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more but to run outside, forget everything, live in the woods and start over with no one by my side but the pine trees and the birds. The feelings of escapism were always the strongest at midnight.
"Sweet dreams, Abel," I said, ready to turn the key and step into my room.
The sound of slow breaths behind my back made me turn around instead.
Before I could fully do so, Abel's arms were twined around my waist, bringing me into an embrace. My imagination paralleled the moment with what I had experienced earlier tonight—right when I had gotten out of the bar. It almost startled me. Almost. Now the air was draped in a completely different feeling, one made of everything intense: intense calmness, intense elation, intense care. If I had realized one thing during that short amount of time I had known Abel that was how distant he could be. Yet there he was, burying his head in my neck like we had known each other since childhood; like romance screamed our names; like we would not kill each other in the long haul.
It took me by surprise. He took me by surprise every single time. And even though his arms wrapped around my body was exactly what I wanted, I did not do anything to perfect the portrait of two people nestling in each other's arms. I did not do anything to make him understand that that may not be fine in general, but it was still fine with me. I just could not toss out of my mind the thought that sooner or later, I would have to get rid of both him and Jersen for my secret plan of destroying Pioneers to work. The rest of the team had agreed—we could not trust them.
But Abel was there, even though he knew that we were not meant to be close like that. But I was there too, not stepping back, even though I knew that I would bring him more hurt than joy in the foreseeable future. I just lingered there, wishing I was strong enough to break the embrace, follow my mind and step into the room.
Midnights were not made for the strong ones. So I stayed without hugging him back. The modern-day Judas.
Heartbeats passed. Slowly, Abel seemed to become aware of the absence of tender reciprocation.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—" he said, taking a step back.
Could a wildfire die out of its own will? Because it definitely felt like he had gone from opening up to shutting down again.
"Sorry about what? It's not like you did something wrong."
That time, I was the one to take a step forward.
I was a traitor and a murderer, working in favor of cruel masters that spread death upon innocents. Still, as I snaked my arms around his neck, bringing him close once again, all these truths seemed to become distant noise, something that could barely even touch us.
