Beyond The Sea Blue Light

You're My Favorite Explosion

I'm not quite sure where I am when I wake up. For a moment, I think I'm still lying in the yard, my face pressed against the damp grass, the smell of smoke in the air. As I shift, the blanket falls off of me. I let out a soft gasp as I reach for the light flicking it on. My hands are bandaged, blood seeping through. I gingerly unwrap the bandages. Thankfully, the skin is mostly healed underneath. The blood must have been from earlier. In fact, the bed beneath me is wet with drying blood.

I peel off my sweat and blood soaked shirt, wincing as the skin on my back stretches. The cold air meets my skin, making me shiver slightly as I pull on a sweatshirt, wrapping it tightly around me. As I stand up gingerly, I can hear voices downstairs.

"Oli's stable now." That sounds like Alex.

"Do you think he's gonna be alright," Another voice asks, probably Jack.

"At least until Kellin can heal him," Gerard sounds frustrated. "I can't believe we've been found. And now Vic's back."

"It's okay," Frank says. I imagine him putting his hand on Gerard's shoulder, comforting his boyfriend. "We'll put someone on watch. In the meantime, we should move. It's not safe here."

"Right." Gerard sounds more determined now. His voice switches into a more commanding, confident one, becoming the leader we all need. "Jack can you keep an eye on Oli? Alex, can you help Frank and me pack up everything we can? Craig, can you see if Kellin is awake?"

I hear rapid footsteps before Craig knocks on the door softly. "Kellin?" he calls.

"Yes?" I say, my voice hoarse.

The door opens and Craig steps in. "We're moving," he says, not meeting my gaze. I instantly feel guilty.

"Thank you," I say.

"Cool," he shuffles backward. "Do you need anything else? Or I'll leave you to get ready."

"Where's Vic?" I ask.

"I'm heading to check on him next," he says.

"Can I come with you?" This is the longest conversation I've had with him since Vic was taken.

He nods, still not meeting my gaze as I follow him down the hallway.

Craig stops at a door I had assumed was a closet before. "We're keeping him downstairs just in case," he says. He unlatches the door, flicking on a lightbulb.

The stairs are surprisingly well lit, but dusty as we descend into the cold air in the basement. It takes my eyes a few moments to adjust as we near the bottom, the glow from the stairs not quite reaching the floor. Pipes travel up the walls, water dripping softly from some of them. All kinds of objects are piled down here, from bikes to random scraps of wood. But my gaze only falls on the figure at the back of the room.

Vic's lying on the small cot in the back. His eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls rhythmically. I grimace as I see the chains wrapped around his hands, securing him to the pipes above. I know how much he hates being trapped.

"We wanted to make sure everyone was safe," Craig explains softly. "We wanted to make sure he wouldn't attack us if he woke up."

"Is he still sleeping?" I ask, crossing over to him. Craig doesn't stop me, just watches as I rest my hand on Vic's shoulder lightly. I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. I'm actually here. Vic's here.

"You won't be able to wake him," Craig says. "We put him under."

"Can I—can I have a few moments with him?"

"Of course," Craig says. "Just don't take too long. We need to leave soon."

"I know," I respond. Craig nods again before I hear his footsteps retreating.

"Craig?" I call out.

Craig stops, looking toward me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blamed you," I admit. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," he says. "You were angry and grieving. I would've done the same thing."

"Still," I say. "It wasn't right of me. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," he smiles slightly.

"Friends?" I ask.

"Sure."

As his footsteps retreat, I turn back to Vic. His normally warm skin is cold against my skin. I stare at him, resting my fingers along his skin. A faint pulse beats there, a sense of relief plunging through me, making me go weak at the knees. He's alive. He's really alive.

"It's okay," I tell him, even though I know he can't hear me. "I love you. We will all be okay."