Page 8 of We Are Yours
Perhaps it was the music. It was evident how important the music was to us all, causing an instant bond between the three.
Or maybe… just maybe, they were already part of my destiny. Of a fate I never believed in, and in a future that would unfold whether I was ready for it or not.
When it all became too much, my eyes shut on their own, and I got lost in the rhythm that both comforted and plagued me all at once. Though when I slowly opened my eyes, the sun and moon collided. The notes intensified, the music’s climax evident as they played against each other. Yet it felt as though they were suddenly forced into a silent battle for my attention, their eyes never leaving mine. Not for a single second.
It was such a private moment in such a public place, and before I could continue to spiral toward these guys and their music, someone yelled out, “COPS! RUN!”
I froze, but for a whole different reason.
Are they here for me?
To say I wasn’t used to the freeze response would be an understatement. The sudden tension stretched, thick and suffocating, until the violin guy laced his fingers with mine, and I swear, a spark jumped from the tips of our skin. My stare quickly shifted from the distant cops to our entwined hands. I was confused by the turn of events.
Plus… I’d never held a boy’s hand before.
As soon as the warm thought hit me, a clipped tone sliced through the air, pointing out, “The fuck, Julius? What the hell are you doing?”
It was only then that I realized the voice belonged to the piano guy, who was now pissed as hell, demanding an answer from Julius. He was glaring right at our entwined hands.
In a silent reassurance, Julius lightly squeezed my fingers before responding in an equally clipped tone, “Exactly what it looks like, Kraven.”
Julius? Kraven?
Even their names struck a chord inside me. I resisted the urge to say them out loud just to feel the way they rolled off my tongue. To see if the names felt as right as they sounded in my mind, as memorable…
The desire was almost unbearable, considering I barely ever spoke at all. It was better that way, safer to keep quiet and just nod or shake my head when I needed to.
The rules were always don’t be seen, don’t be heard. It made things easier for me when most probably assumed it’d make it more complicated.
I didn’t speak, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a lot to say. On the contrary, I carried note pads for this exact reason. Sometimes I’d leave them lying around in random places for others to read and possibly relate to them.
In the crack of a whip, Kraven bit, “You can’t?—”
“You don’t tell me,” Julius interrupted, “what I can and can’t do, little brother.”
Something passed between them, something deeper, darker, more binding than blood.
Just as the thought occurred, Julius turned to Kraven. “Give me your hoodie!” he ordered, nodding over to me.
Kraven scoffed in disgust. “Fuck no.”
“Kraven…” Julius warned in an edgy tone. “My jacket won’t keep her warm on my bike.”
With an offended expression, Kraven snapped, “Why is that my problem?”
“Guys!” someone barked from behind us. “Stop flexing your dicks. We gotta go! I’d give her my sweater, but I don’t have one, so just give her yours!”
Kraven barely contained his anger before ripping off his hoodie and throwing it at us. I instinctively caught it, instantly feeling the warmth of the fabric from his heated rage. It was heavy in my arms, and I tried not to let the sudden assault of his scent affect me more than it already was.
My fingers slightly trembled while I slid it over my head and down my body.
“Text Roland to meet us at the house,” Julius demanded in another hard-edge voice.
“You can’t be serious…” Kraven replied in a shocked tone.
Who’s Roland? Another brother?
“Go, Kraven!” Julius ordered, bringing my attention back to him. “You can’t get in trouble again. Move your ass! Now!”
