The Mindless Man's Paradise

Chapter thirty-six

The trip home was quiet. We both knew that what had happened at HQ hadn’t gone very well at all.

  Not only were we late, but Cyrus may or may not have blown our cover.

  I knew he sensed something was out of place. I’m not sure if he knew exactly what, but I couldn’t tell him.

  At least not in public anyways, we’d have to wait until we reached our apartment.

  We entered, and like I had predicted, Cyrus slammed the door closed and turned to me.

  “What did I screw up?” he pressed.

  I looked at him morosely.

  “Oh god. Just tell me.”

  “You’re handwriting Cyrus.” I supplied.

  “But I tried my best to make it look like shit!” he fumed, not caring to correct his potty mouth.

  But then again, I was starting to generate one of those as well.

  “If that’s your definition of shitty handwriting then mine must be utterly terrifying.” I said. “Landies only write like, once a year. And that is for the annual scans they do. So obviously, we’re not going to have the best handwriting if we only write once a year.”

  It sounded strange, actually. I had only ever written 15 -now 16- times in my life.

  “Do you think they’ll notice?” he asked, beginning to panic.

  Sensing his escalating fear, and shrouding my own, I went to him and put my arms around his neck. “I honestly have no idea.”

  Although indeed, I knew that they would notice. But something inside me told me that they wouldn’t act upon it. Not so soon, anyways.

  Seeming to loosen up a bit, I felt the tension in his shoulders weaken, and his hands as they wrapped around my waist, pulling me ever closer.

  “Well, that put a damper on things. Probably shaves another two months or so off of our relaxation time.” he sighed, lifting one arm from my waist, only to tuck a black strand of hair behind my ear.

  Once he did this, his arm returned to its comfortable position around my waist.

  I stared into his beautiful eyes, unashamed, for no apparent reason. Somehow, I was staying cool, calm, and collected despite my usual self.

  I’m not sure why, but I decided that all I wanted was to watch Cyrus draw for the remainder of the day. He drew the Society, as a souvenir for his family for whenever we would return. He drew our apartment, he drew everything about the Society, and then he drew me.

  I was sitting cross-legged on the couch, with intense eyes, hair messily pulled up, hand rested on my hand, and a small smirk on my face. I’m not sure how he managed to make me look so beautiful in his drawings. I could roll around in dirt and he could still make me look angelic.

  It was nearing dinner time, and we cooked another delicious meal that reminded me of Aurora.

  We found ourselves too lazy to do dishes, and ended up with two steaming cups of hot cocoa on the balcony once more, cuddling on our favorite couch in our favorite spot.

  The last time we were doing this, it seemed like an eternity ago. I was only just beginning to become suspicious of our remaining days in the Society. This time, the feeling felt more immediate. More urgent.

  But it wasn’t time yet.

  Lights began flicking off in the city, and that was when we decided to retire to our bed for the night.