A Beautiful Reflection From Firework Eyes

I'll Take You Down In Flames

"How'd it go?" Kellin asks as I slip into our room.

"Not great," I sigh, sitting down next to him. He shifts, swinging his legs over mine so his head rests against my shoulder. I rest my chin on his head, my fingers tangling in his dark hair.

"Do you think he will escape with us?" Kellin asks.

"I'm not sure," I say. "He might. It's hard to tell though. He sees this place as a kind of home, not a prison."

"Will he tell on us?"

"I hope not," I sigh. "I don't think he will though."

"I wish we didn't tell him," Kellin says. "It would have been safer that way."

"But it wouldn't have been fair to him," I counter. "No matter how much of an asshole he is, we can't just abandon him here."

Kellin makes a face. "I don't like him," he mutters. I know he's referring to the time we first met Craig.

"Me either," I say. "But I can't blame him either. He was just doing what he was told to."

We sit in comfortable silence, neither of us feeling the need to talk. I absentmindedly run my hand through his hair as he leans against my chest.

"Kellin, can you promise me something?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" He looks up at me.

"If things go wrong," I hesitate.

"No," Kellin says immediately, pulling away from me. "No way."

"You didn't let me—"

"No," he repeats. "I'm not leaving without you."

"Kells—"

"No!" Kellin exclaims. "We're in this together. We're both leaving or neither of us is."

I sigh, knowing I'm never going to convince him otherwise. "I just need you to be safe," I say softly. "I need to know that you will be alive and safe."

"I need to know that you're alive," Kellin counters. "How do you think I'll be if you die?"

I reach over, taking his hand. "Kellin, just promise me that—"

"No," Kellin says. "We're leaving together and that's final."

He kisses me before I can protest, tangling his hands in my hair. I try to push him away to continue talking for a few moments, but eventually give up, letting him win. He kisses me desperately, as if it were the last time he would be able to. I cup his face in my hand, pulling him closer to me, though I don't think that's physically possible. He shifts so he's sitting in my lap as he pushes me over onto my back on my bed, pinning me down.

I freeze for a moment, fear coursing through my body suddenly. Kellin instantly sits up, pulling away from me.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

"No, it's fine," I say, my heart still racing. It's just Kellin, I tell myself. It's okay.

"Did I do something wrong?" Kellin asks. "I can get up." He moves to climb off of me but I pull him back down.

"It's okay," I say. "With you, it's okay."

He smiles at my words as I shift, sitting up so I'm at eye level with him.

"What would I do without you?" I ask.

He blushes at my words, looking away for a moment.

"I love you," I tell him, reaching to tilt his chin so he has to look at me. "I really do."

"I love you too," he says.

I kiss him softly, my hand sliding up his shirt. "Let's get rid of this," I mumble, slowly pulling the fabric up. He nods, moving my hand away so he can strip off his shirt. I pull mine off too, tossing it to the floor beside my bed before I kiss him again. He kisses me back hungrily as I pull him back down with me, kissing him over and over again. We're both breathing heavily, our hearts racing, but I don't think I've ever been happier.

I wince as something digs into my back, something crinkling on the bed.

"What the—" I mumble, breaking the kiss for a moment so I can reach under the blankets. My finger brushes against the edge of something as I pull out a crumpled up piece of paper.

"What is that?" Kellin asks.

"I don't know," I say as I unfold it quickly, recognizing Jack's messy scrawl. It's just two words, but it's enough to make my heart pound. Three days.

"What does it say?" Kellin asks.

I wordlessly hand him the note, my mind whirling too fast for me to speak. He reads the note, looking at me speechlessly. It's really happening. We're getting out of here. Three days. That's all we have to get through before we're free.

---

All of the next day, all I can think about is the escape. I can practically taste the freedom, though the worry keeps me grounded. What if everything goes wrong? I keep expecting to see Gerard and Frank hauled in or for Mr. Styles to inform us that we've been caught.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Styles' voice snaps me out of my daze. I look up at him confused.

"Of course," I respond. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You have just seemed tired lately," he says. "I was wondering if you were okay." I frown, confused. Why does he keep pretending he's concerned about me? The worry on his face does seem quite real though, but I'm pretty sure it's all an act.

"I guess I haven't been sleeping well," I say cautiously. He doesn't have to know that it's because I sneak out every night to meet with Gerard. "Nightmares and stuff." I wince at my own lie. It seems feeble to my own ears.

Mr. Styles seems to buy it. "What are they about?" he asks, his voice softening.

I cringe, trying to keep a straight face. Even if I was having nightmares, Mr. Styles would be the last person on this planet I would want to talk to about them. Probably because he's the cause of all of them. "The usual stuff," I mutter.

"What kind?" Annoyance spikes in me. Why is he keeping up this act? Ever since he killed Matty, he's been acting strangely around me, as if I'm about to break into pieces.

"Why do you care?" I ask. "Not like you ever have."

He frowns. "I do care about all of you," he says. Not for the first time, a part of me wonders if he's actually not lying, but I push it away. If he really cared, then why are we trapped in here? Why would he hurt us one moment then pretend to care in the next? For some reason, my conversation with Gerard flashes in my mind. He had a son. It's all connected somehow. I'm not quite sure how. It just makes me even more angry.

"I'm not your son," I spit at him. "You don't have to pretend to care."

Mr. Styles' eyes flash and for a moment, I think he's going to hit me, but he merely sighs. "You're right," he says. "I'm sorry for everything. But I never lied." He leaves the room with another word, leaving me standing there, stunned.