Hidden and Silent (SpyxFamily)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Authors Note:

Ha! I actually got this out today!! Cool. Anyway. Sorry this took so long. If you find any plot holes, please ignore, I've filled as many as I could. :P Lemme know what you think. :)

Warning of Violence and Light Gore

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"Hey, wanna swap?" Violet turned to her boyfriend.

Killian couldn't stop the knowing smile that took over his face and laughed. "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Violet huffed, promptly annoyed by his tone. "Yeah, yeah, swap with me already you big know-it-all." She grumbled and held out the bowl of orange-peach ice cream that Killian was all too pleased to trade for with his plain vanilla.

"How's your ice cream?" Robert directed at Demetrius, once again trying to break his silence with inane, useless questions.

Demetrius poked at his sugary confection without looking up. "Fine." He sighed, refusing to meet the look of bordering-on-concern-but-not-quite-because-Demetrius-made-it-clear-he-didn't-like-that-so-I'll-smile-but-I'm-still-very-concerned-and-confused-and-I'm-really-bad-at-hiding-it.

Honestly.

When Demetrius told them, or rather growled at them, to "stop looking at me like that" at the cafeteria, it finally got them to stop jeopardizing his safety even further, but the concern never went away, possibly been made worse,—they were definitely curious what was going on—and were still bad at hiding it in other ways. Like their constant glances. The occasional question or attempt to pull him into conversation. Or the way one of them would sling an arm over his shoulders as if it could comfort him(or maybe it was for their own comfort. Or to keep him from running from them. Or maybe they had the misguided notion it would somehow protect him in any capacity) while Demetrius reminded himself he couldn't just rip the arm off that was touching him. He'd only get himself in trouble.

And now they waited.

Demetrius didn't like the waiting.

The eyes were still watching. The agents were still lurking. Still spying. Still ready to bring him home if he made one wrong move.

When Demetrius had left the school grounds, his jitters went with him and the buzzing sensation made his nerves edgy and his anxiety skyrocket. He expected—was just waiting—to be be found out. That he had an(admittedly simple) plan and would be dragged back home any minute.

Really, he was lucky for his group. How far off of campus grounds would he have gotten without them? His father most definitely would have demanded he come straight home if his "friends" didn't build on the public image that was supposed to be Demetrius Desmond. That everything was fine. That Demetrius was fine. That the Desmonds were fine. That everything was normal as it had always been and always would be.

Nothing strange going on here, no sir.

Demetrius finally let his spoon sit, sticking straight up in his melting strawberry ice cream—that he still had yet to take a bite of—and let his hands fall into his lap.

It was a nice day. Clear skies, sunny afternoon, small, warm breezes, and the temperature wasn't too cold, too hot, or too humid, just right.

It was irritating and only served to worsen his mood. Here he was, sweating bullets, staving off panic attack after panic attack, doing everything possibly imaginable to distract himself, and the weather had the nerve to be pleasant and accommodating.

Why couldn't it rain? Demetrius would really appreciate it if it could rain. He doesn't know why, but he thinks it would be better. Everything is better when it's raining.

He wrung his hands absently, staring at the dish of ice cream with little focus on it. It seemed so ridiculous to be sitting here at an ice cream shoppe with everything that was going on. With everything that was going to happen soon. Every second thought that he turned over in his head was him questioning again and again how he had let himself come to this conclusion. How stupid did he have to be to even consider this option? Really, what was he thinking? This was the worst idea he could have come up with.

Desperation really did make drastic decisions.

This was going to go so wrong. He probably wouldn't even get far before he was caught. His father would claim he was sick in the head, that something was wrong with him. He'd be locked up—

His hands were shaking again.

Don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkabout it.

One breath. Another. One more.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

And then he was moving.

Someone mentioned the time and Demetrius hardly registered being tugged out of his chair by the elbow, the ice cream shoppe left behind. Their table sitting out front was cleared off and his friends were guiding him along.

His breath caught as a fresh jolt of muted panic swarmed him, doubt cascading over him. This was a terrible idea. He should turn back, go back to square one, but he didn't have the time for that. They were leaving. They were really, really going. Demetrius was actually going to have to—

No. Nonono. Demetrius changed his mind. This was much worse than waiting. Something else! A different plan! Anything else! What was he thinking!? This was a bad idea! Very, very bad!