Hidden and Silent (SpyxFamily)

Ch. 22: Part Seven

 Before he could find a way to dissolve their concerns and erase those looks from their faces, however, Kira spoke first. "Demetrius. You can tell us." She said softly. "Maybe we can help."

And Demetrius paused—could almost call himself startled—at the words she should not be saying, words he didn't expect or was prepared for, as his own words were ripped harshly from the tip of his tongue with his stolen breath. They were spirited away somewhere he would never find them again as if fate itself took his voice just so Demetrius wouldn't be able to deny her offer. Just so the building anxiety that had halted it's ascent to form a lump he couldn't swallow down would make him quiet. So that when he tried to move, he couldn't, frozen in place, eyes glued to her's while he took in her words and the impossible way it made him feel.

He hated it. The crawl up his lungs that globbed and choked and the way he was almost afraid to breathe, to let his chest rise properly. He couldn't think past the ache settling in the centre that writhed with contrary desires.

"What?" He to managed breathed quietly, not trusting himself to speak any louder as his racing thoughts that had flown down a hill like a boulder, was stopped by one, small, perfectly manicured hand.

"Yeah, man, whatever you need." Killian followed up and Demetrius detested the shiver that ran up his throat, at the all-encompassing instinct to clamp onto the offer like a life-raft and he involuntarily sucked in a small breath.

Demetrius wasn't entirely sure what was happening. Why this was affecting him so much. He hadn't even considered asking for help and didn't think he should. What could anyone else do? How could anyone else actually help? But then, why did he think the Forgers could help? They were a spy and an assassin, highly trained, but even they would have difficult hurdles to jump.

These were high school students. What could they do?

He should turn it down.

Turnitdownturnitdownturnitdown. They can't help. They'll only drag you down. You'll get in trouble with father when they fail. You'll be stuck in that house again—

He shouldn't. He should say no. He wanted to say no. He wanted to accept it.

Why was this affecting him so much!? He didn't consider himself all that close with them. He understood them for the most part. How their minds worked. What lens they viewed the world through. They had been "friends" since middle school and yet he had kept an appropriate detachment from them.

But Kira was offering help and Demetrius couldn't reconcile the two parts that warred between maintaining his detachment and taking the help like he was a man dying of thirst in the desert.

He wanted to turn it down. He couldn't bring himself to do it. As accomplished and intelligent as Demetrius was, he didn't know how to do this on his own. He didn't want to. Keeping himself together was hard enough and the simple gesture of support had his throat thick and his lungs shaky all over again.

And. He. Hated. It. Despised the way it made him want to cry and sob as claws dug into his chest to dig and pry it open, to let everything pour out. Trying to break him down as he contemplated it.

He was better than this. He could deal with this alone. He had always been alone before the Forgers and he had always persevered. They had made him weak.

He didn't want to deal with this alone.

Really, his "friends" didn't know what they were offering. What they were asking to know. This was a whole lot bigger than they were probably prepared for and this would only bring them trouble. If Demetrius failed, if they failed, then Donovan could ruin their lives.

. . .But since when has Demetrius ever cared?

And then he blinked, realizing he had been staring for much too long, much too intensely, and much too still at Killian.

Demetrius didn't think he could do this on his own. He didn't—he didn't have to. . .maybe. . .

He could keep most of it to himself. Just accept their help. Not let them know what they were helping with. Not yet. He couldn't say it yet, not yet. This was too much already.

He exhaled silently and he felt it shudder down through his insides as the group cast more uneasy glances at Demetrius' odd behaviour.

He turned to Fallon, his stomach slowly filling with weight, dread coating it with led and casing his muscles in it. His tongue was heavy and thick as it tried to choke him, to stop the words coming out of his mouth, to tell him this was a bad idea.

But he didn't know what else to do.

Fallon's eyebrows rose questioningly, expectantly, as he continued to look at her without saying anything.

Demetrius swallowed. He licked his lips.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. He couldn't believe he was saying this. His stomach did flips and tightened and lanced waves of nausea up his throat.

"I need you to make a call for me."