But Too Well

XXXIII : Confess

"YOU OKAY?" CALEB brushes a thumb softly across my cheek. "You look tired."

"Mm. I'm fine. I just need more coffee." I lean against him, and he holds me, and it's easier to lie when I don't have to look at his face.

We're outside the courtroom and it's kind of busy, but I haven't seen him in days and God it feels so good to be held. To feel his arms around me, to feel safe.

But it's no time at all before he has to go back to Daniel, to my dad, to the case. I wish him luck and then watch as he makes his way into the courtroom, his dark suit and bright hair so familiar. I can't even remember not knowing him.

I am tired. So, so tired. Tired of lying, of hiding, of being scared. My lease was up on my apartment a couple months ago, and there has not been a day since where I haven't wondered why I renewed it, not a day where I doubt that moving would help me escape it all, forget.

But the longer time goes on, the longer it feels like my fate was sealed all those months ago, the instant I stepped foot into that place. The longer it feels like my life is this, has become this. That this is all there is.

I feel him before I see him, standing behind me, looking at me, breathing. Not close, not right there. But I know even without turning around that Nero is here, and I haven't seen him in a long, long time, and I fight the urge to turn around because, once I meet his eyes, I won't be able to help what comes next.

And so, I walk past the armed guards into the packed courtroom, finding a seat somewhere near the back of the defense's side. There are so many people here; the press, the mother who lost her son all those months ago, the brother of the accused, and a dozen rough men whose presence here in this courtroom I'm all too familiar with.

With a cold shiver, a sudden thought comes to me.

I remember how during the first trial, they threatened Daniel and my dad into keeping quiet about evidence they knew would win the case.

And I wonder, a chill rushing down my spine, whether or not Nero's thugs decided to give them a reminder, like they did to me. Would my dad have even told me?

Nothing surprises me anymore.

My shoulders feel heavy, because then too Nero tried to convince me he had nothing to do with it, it was against his orders, he felt so bad. It now sounds so ridiculous, even in my head.

•§•

I DON'T LET myself scan the courtroom too much because I don't need to know where Nero is sitting, what he looks like, how he's feeling. I force my attention to the front, where the prosecutors talk about why Mario is guilty, why the first trial was wrong and why he killed Antonio and honestly, I can't listen to this anymore. It's tearing me apart.

I slip out of my seat and sneak away from the courtroom, into the main hall. It's busy and I can't hear myself think, and if my mind doesn't stop rushing around in frenzied circles I'm going to end up with a massive headache sometime soon.

My feet take me around corners and through hallways until I reach a secluded corridor. Leaning against the wall, I remember the only other time I found myself in this obscure part of the courthouse, and I close my eyes, feeling the memory of Nero's tall form hovering over me, threatening me and flirting with me and messing with my head all at the same time. Damn it. It feels like a lifetime ago, like it was just yesterday. It hurts.

As soon as I hear the slow, quiet thud of footsteps against the marble tile, I know it's him, here, and I have given up on stopping him, stopping this.