bambi eyes || tradley

32. the love of my life

"Oh, shit," Connor muttered through Tristan's ear. Those were two words the twenty-one-year-old was hoping he wouldn't hear after standing outside of the lab door for two minutes—yes, Tristan had been keeping track—waiting for James or Brad to show up in front of the door to let him in. His anxiety was already over the roof. He was worried his boyfriend and James were caught, or Brad got distracted, and that they'd run out of time, that the lights would turn on and the security cameras would  catch them trying to sneak a group of experiments out of a government facility.

"Tristan," his best friend lowly spoke again, "not to make you panic or anything, but you should probably—"

Tristan jumped at the sound of a bang, cutting off Connor's sentence completely. The dark-haired boy's heartbeat sped up, and the anxiety twisting in his innards worsened, as if someone was just digging their hand inside of him and ripping up his intestines. "Connor?" Tristan shouted, not worried with whoever heard him. He sucked in a breath, trying to control his asthmatic like breathing. "Connor!"

And just when Tristan thought none of this could get worse, the lights flicked on, and he was met with the long hallway again.

His first instinct was to run, as if it'd lead him to the answer of all the questions buzzing in his head. Tristan didn't even know where he was headed. He was so confused. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of those lab doors, and no one was communicating with him to tell him what happened, or what to do next. This definitely wasn't planned out to happen like this, which Tristan probably should've expected. Of course nothing was going to go as planned. He wondered why he thought it would. Tristan's whole entire life was made up of the unexpected. Just like how he turned a corner, met with a group of agents, ready and pointing their firearms directly at Tristan.

He instantly halted his footsteps and turned to run without even having to think about it. But the man didn't get very far when he turned and dropped to the floor, a scream and a long list of swear words erupting from his throat at the pain in his leg. He tried to hold back the tears he could feel forming in his eyes, but they were already spilling.

"Great seeing you again," a voice spoke. A blurry stranger suddenly stepped forward in the small group. He looked the youngest—around Tristan's age—and the less professional. "I knew you'd come back. Though, it did take you longer than I expected, but actually, this was exactly how I predicted everything. How long was this planned, huh? Years?"

Tristan was suddenly yanked from the ground by two agents. He didn't try to protest. There was a bullethole in his thigh, and whether there was a group of agents circling him or not, the dark-haired boy would always be outnumbered.

"I told you to stay in my office, James," another voice snapped. Tristan didn't have the energy to feel surprised at the man that stood alongside him, the same face that matched the memories that hit him when he figured out who his mother was. Tristan felt pathetic, but he could feel more tears filling his eyes again. This was basically it. He was caught, with no knowledge of his best friend's whereabouts and no knowledge of whatever happened to James and his boyfriend. He just hoped they were okay, even James, who he couldn't really careless about.

"This was really a bad move, though, kid," his dad spoke, letting out a sigh and shaking his head. He honestly looked disappointed, as if he even had the rights to feel that way. "I really thought I raised you better than this."

Tristan wanted to shout about where he was when his son's memory was literally swiped. But he could barely keep his mind in one place with the unbearable pain in his leg, and the terrible image of something bad happening to his boyfriend and his best mate. He didn't know where to put his thoughts; he didn't know what to do. All that felt reasonable was giving up.