Lego House

xii. Trapped

{ unedited } 

The tension in the room is insane. It’s like a thick cloud surrounding them all. Autumn plays with her fingers in her lap, covered in callouses but no longer bloodied and caked with dirt. They’re waiting for Michael, who is speaking to the leader of Flay. It’s usually much faster than this, she realises from experience. He may be telling Michael not to continue on. “So,” Jarrett says, a little too brightly. He’s bouncing, leaning outward from the seat he’s in.

“Jarrett,” Roselle breaths. The muscles in her exposed arms are tensed. She’s afraid, nervous. Autumn knows the feeling. This is why she’s still playing with her fingers. Pedro remains silent, as he usually is. He is staring at the wall of the reception of the Flay government.

“Roselle,” Jarrett retorts in a slight mimic, his voice harder. He’s frowning as Michael exits from a separate door from which he entered.

“As the others, he has advised us to remain here in safety. But I told him we have no choice.” Autumn nods, sighing. She knows they don’t. She wishes they did. “Gather your things. We best be off. We’ll settle down near the gates of Pyllagement, so we can sleep for the night and gather enough energy for a battle at the gates.”

“How do you know there’ll be a battle?” Autumn is about to ask, but he answers hastily before she can.

“We can’t sneak in, I’ve seen images of their security. It’s intense. Our only chance of infiltration is attack.” Army words. It saddens Autumn, especially after she remembers the fun they’d had last night, just dancing and singing for hours.

“Mikey,” she mutters. He somehow hears her squeak. She’s scared, and he can tell. It shows in his eyes. His glasses are perched atop his nose, but they are clean and clear. His eyes stare at her with care, the brown loving and tender. His eyebrows are raised in question. She rubs the side of her neck, her lips parting. But she doesn’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” Jarrett cuts in for her, and she smiles in thanks at him, though he ignores her. “For everything you’ve done. If any of us die in these next few days, just remember that.” And there, he said it. Thank you. It cut through the tension that was still hovering in the air, but at the mention of any of them dying, it returns. Autumn gulps. She can’t lose any of these people, these people who she loves.

Michael’s lips tilt up in a smile, one that is genuine and has been unseen for weeks. He claps Jarrett’s shoulder. “And thank you.” He turns to look at all of them in turn. “Thank you all. Especially Rose and Pedro, for risking your lives so the three of us can be reunited with our parents.” His eyes fixate on Roselle, Jarrett’s on Autumn. She turns away but can still feel his eyes burning into her.

“And Peter. Who never got to hear the thank you’s. Who was not even very much liked or trusted.” She holds back the tears. She can handle this, she can. She gulps, and feels the burn of the ever insistent tears. “Thank you for dying for us.”

-

Jarrett is tired. His legs feel like jelly, his shoulders ache from the heavy bag, his eyes are drooping. Every part of his body cries out for relief, for rest. But they can’t. They can’t stop. That’s what Michael said. That’s what Autumn agreed with. He’s not even that eager to see his father, only his mother. His father was always too strict with them all; including his mother, who insisted it was because he loved them all so dearly.

Jarrett always thought he was a reckless jerk. But no one ever says that aloud. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep.” A quiet voice, met with a quieter face. She never wore make-up, but she somehow now looks even barer. Her tight brown curls are pulled away from her face in a ponytail. They fall into step with each other.