Blending Into Gray

Chapter 11

It had been several days since Roman's teleportation trick.

My father had essentially stopped all of his monitoring my coming-and-going, not that he ever really prodded in the first place.

Roman, however, had the opposite problem.

His father was cracking down on him, so he said. His dad wanted him to end this, and end it now.

Roman explained that he hadn't even gotten an opportunity to snag a letter from the few on his father's desk.

"Seriously! It's so frustrating!"

I shook my head.

"Roman, stop fretting. It's no big deal, you know. We can try it again tomorrow?"

He was frantic. I didn't understand why he was so worried. I knew his father was closely following his movements, but Roman was close to panicking.

"No! That's just it! I'm afraid there won't be a tomorrow. My father was all weirdly cryptic when he was mentioning it, so I don't understand."

I paused, listening.

"He was very insistent that I had to kill you today. Especially today, not tomorrow or the day after. I don't get it."

I frowned.

"Was there mail today?"

His face was worried, stressed tears beginning to well in his eyes.

"Yes. That I was able to take from him," he sniffed, handing over the paper.

It was a news headline.

Twenty-first Anniversary: the day Both Hero and Villain Banded Together to let Hundreds Die

What?

What the actual fuck?

"What does this mean?"

I questioned, my voice wavering.

"I don't know. It says both of their names, it's definitely talking about them.

Skimming the article, I gathered the premise, that many people had died during a fight of theirs.

But still, no information on what the fight was about or even why.

I didn't understand.

Roman's worry had turned to full-fledged panic by now, the stressed tears beginning to trickle down his face.

"Elias, I'm worried. I'm terrified I'll have to kill you, and I don't want to," he choked.

His hands were trembling. He balled them into fists.

He was frustrated, panicked, and scared.

Frankly, I was all of those things as well.

But he wasn't handling it well. And he helped me yesterday.

Gently, I reached over and took one of his hands in my own.

"Roman, stop. Seriously, you'll just make yourself sick. Please stop worrying," I pleaded.

He opened his mouth, but I shook my head.

"Just take a minute, alright? I know you're worried, just try not to overwork yourself. Just breathe for a minute. I know you've been trying your hardest."

At my words, he finally did stop and heave an unsteady breath in, drawing another ragged one in after exhaling.

A few seconds, minutes went by.