To Be Free by Marie-Ange Langlois Page A

after a while,
letting the towel rest over his shoulders now. The soft glow of our
suits lights up the immaculate kitchen, hurting the eyes if we
accidentally catch the flare.
    I find the shelves where they
keep the dishes and cutlery, pulling out two bowls and spoons so I
can shovel some of the concoction into the porcelain confines. Then
I hand him one, which he takes carefully as the steam rises.
    "We're lucky they use gas
stoves," he muses quietly, taking a cursory sniff and smiling. He
sets it down briefly while I lean on the counter opposite him,
cradling the warm bowl in my hands and relishing in the warmth.
"Here, I brought you this."
    Reaching to his side where a
bundle of cloth lies, iridescent and sort-of invisible to the eye,
he pulls my cloak from the pile and hands it to me with a sheepish
smile, face alight with his fever.
    "Thanks," he says as I take it,
and notices the look of confusion that slips on my face so he
clarifies. "You put it on me while I was asleep; it kept me
warm."
    "Oh." I slip it on after
putting the bowl down briefly, gladly welcoming the heat the cloth
provides. "It was nothing, really."
    "No, it wasn't," he counters,
looking to the steaming bowl at his side. "We're strangers, Quinn,
brought together briefly while we Run, yet you're being awfully
nice to me. I haven't been a stellar travelling companion to begin
with, yet here you are." He's frowning now, biting his lower lip
thoughtfully. "No one's been kind with me for a long, long time -
so much so that I've forgotten what it's like, to be honest."
    He scratches at the scars on
his left arm idly, looking up at me afterwards.
    "You're even taking care of me
even though you don't know if I'd do the same for you," he
continues, smiling slightly. "You're a kind person, and it's a
shame you got stuck with me."
    I know it's his fever talking,
making him say things he probably wouldn't ever say, but I still
rise to his defense.
    True, I don't know anything
about him save for his name and the fact that he's tried ending his
life so much he's got visible scars to show for it - not to mention
the emotional and mental ones no one can see - but there's
something about him that makes me want to try to see the inside of
that glass box he's surrounded himself in to show people what he
wants them to see.
    "I don't think it's a bad
thing," I tell him, holding his uncanny gaze. "Back at the facility
you could've left on your own and we both know it; hell, you
could've taken anyone else, but instead you took me. Plus, you've
saved my life already, which means a lot.
    "Also, you put up with my
questions, which already says a lot," I laugh, completely aware of
how annoying my hundreds of questions can get. "Sure, we're
strangers; but we don't have to be."
    Seb doesn't do anything for a
moment - he just watches me, cocking his head slightly to the side
and frowning. I pick up my bowl again and, after making sure it's
substantially cooler, I take a spoonful. The weight of the soup
settles comfortably in my stomach, warming my insides and filling
the ravenous gap that'd formed.
    Without another word he follows
my lead, smiling to himself the whole way through seconds.
    It takes him two days to break
that fever.

 
Like Shadows
Haunting your Every Step
    SEBASTIAN
     
    "...and
all I'm saying is
that we've wasted enough time as it is." I shoot Quinn a glance
over my shoulder as I zip up my backpack, a little heavier now
thanks to the extra supplies we're carrying. "We can't wait an
extra night; they've already sanctioned off a hundred mile radius
around the facility and we're going to have to be sneaky little
shits to slip by them. They can find us, and they will."
    "I know that," he shoots
back with a clipped sigh. "It's just that you've only just broken
your fever and I don't want you to have a relapse,
alright?"
    Pulling the straps over my
shoulders and pulling the cowl from beneath the rucksack, I turn to
face him.
    "I appreciate the concern,
really," I