Chapter Text
They had enough money now, barely, to afford somewhere to live. It was a crappy one room apartment, definitely not legally rented if the landlords lack of questions and insistence they pay in cash was anything to go by. It was cold and run down, but at least security from the outside world.
Well, it should be.
Knightley was out, working his night shift at a grocery store, a job he’d managed to hold down because, despite being a teenager and a high school dropout like Simon, he wasn’t so nervous that he couldn’t make it through a job interview. He could bear to leave the house.
Simon’s legs were sore from pacing, or perhaps it was from how tense his body was. Still, he couldn’t stop. It was much too late to still be awake, at this rate he’d still be awake when Knightley returned. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to little sleep; it had been that way ever since they’d left the orphanage (and a good deal of time before then) but surely now that he had a place to call home, however small and shoddy…
He sighed, resigned, and checked the window once more. A still, empty night. He curled up on one of the chairs they had in place of a couch and fixed his eyes on the door. In the dark it appeared formless and imposing but the most frightening thought was of what could appear from behind it.
***
When they had first escaped the orphanage, they had done so with cash and a smattering of supplies stolen from Ms Roland. This had been enough to last them a short time, providing food and the odd lodging at backpackers and the like. Simon had insisted on making as much distance from the orphanage as possible, which Knightley hadn’t understood but had acquiesced to. This soon became known to be too simple minded. What was distance and new names against the forces that were against him?
The first sign had been wanted posters. They listed Simon as a missing child, showed pictures of a sad dark-haired boy and said anyone who sighted him should contact the police. Simon stole a cheap bottle of bleach and hair dye and hid in back alleys.
The second sign came from a television in a store. Knightley had been the one to see it while stealing supplies. He’d reported that apparently the high prosecutor had made a plea to the general public to look out for Simon, a tragic runaway orphan involved in a case he was invested in. Simon remembered a man involved in That Day. Hadn’t Ms Roland mentioned in one of the many interrogations that a certain prosecutor desired much more permanent solutions to silencing him? Nothing Knightley did that day could calm him down.
The third sign showed just how much reason Simon had to fear. They’d been staying in a shelter overnight. It was raining and they couldn’t bear another night on the streets, tucked in an alcove somewhere huddling for warmth. Despite everything he’d actually managed to sleep, likely due to exhaustion more than anything. He’d been jolted awake by the thud of footsteps and loud voices. It was the word “police” and the sound of his old name that shot ice though his veins. In the end Knightley had dragged him, hyperventilating, and near asphyxiating trying to be quiet, out a window. The rain-soaked race through the streets was a blur to him. He swore he remembered the flash of police lights and sirens, shouts of pursuit but it was just as likely the police hadn’t even noticed they ran.
***
So now Simon was off the streets, with a friend working to support him and the secure walls of an apartment around him. Still, he wasn’t safe. They knew what he had seen. They knew he was nearby. There was no way he could sleep.
“I’m so sorry! I really am stupid, could you explain to me the directions again?”
Simon let out a sniffle, allowing his eyes to wet with tears. The shop clerk’s eyes widened, and she smiled sympathetically.
“Now, now, it’s no trouble. So, you turn right after the corner store…”
She explained the directions once more, in slow detail, and placed a reassuring hand on the teenager’s shoulder.
Ugh, please don’t. Still, Ignoring the false concern Simon allowed himself a subtle glance behind the woman, it’s working perfectly.
“I’m sorry, I’m so forgetful! Could you, maybe, draw a map for me? I think I have some paper and a pen…”
Simon took his time rummaging through his bag, the woman filling the silence with friendly talk and simple (intrusive) questions about Simon.
Ah. The signal from Knightley.
“Here it is! So sorry for the bother…”
The rest of the process finished more quickly. Simon nodded along to the woman’s words and grabbed the map with a quick bow before dashing off. His tearful demeanour slipped away into a smile. A street away stood a teen, anonymous in a thick coat and hoodie.
“How much did we get?”
“Not sure yet, but there were some good wads of cash!”
Knightley removed his hood and revealed a grin, the proud one he got whenever they pulled off a successful plan. In his bag and his large coat no doubt was a tills worth of cash.
The shop had been one nearly an hour from their apartment. Scouting the area, they had found a number of obvious weak points; no security cameras, kindly cashiers who were lax about keeping their tills closed, easy escape routes; it was a simple target. A piece of cake for them.
Knightley’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Simon couldn’t deny he felt quite a bit of pride all on his own but-
“Hey quiet! Let’s count it at home.”
They always had to be careful.
***
“Damn! That’s so much yen!”
Notes were spread over their scratched table, more than either of them had ever seen. The two boys could only stare at it
“That’s gonna help so much with rent, do you think we could even get a tv with it?”
Simon allowed himself to imagine it. There had been a tv at the orphanage. He’d sometimes catch episodes of some of the shows he overheard kids talking about at school but most of the time the other orphans played what they wanted. This was before That Night, then Ms Roland wouldn’t let him watch tv or do any other activities that ‘only nice boys who tell the truth’ could engage in. It would be nice to own something fun, that was for most people, completely normal. He let the idea sit in his mind for a moment.
“We probably shouldn’t. We should save it, who knows what could happen?”
Knightley nodded, and some of his exuberance faded as he paused to look at Simon. Knightley had been doing that a lot lately. Stopping what he was doing to check Simon’s expression, looking for something. Sometimes he’d follow this with some silly comment or reassuring gesture. Sometimes Simon caught him staring and he’d quickly look away changing the subject or leaving the room in a strange hurry. Simon didn’t quite know what to make of these changes. His friends’ intentions didn’t seem to be negative.
Knightley seemed to come to some decision.
“Hey, it’s still pretty awesome though isn’t it? Our biggest heist yet,” he was always using fanciful language, “I’m sure we’ll be more than capable of getting by with how dumb people always are. Also…”
He looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, flushing red.
“…I swiped this for you!”
It was chocolates looking fancy in a pink box. Simon looked between Knightley and the box a little confused by why his friend was so flustered.
“I-I mean I got it for both of us! For a job well done.”
Now Knightley was avoiding all eye contact. Simon continued to stare. He felt uncomfortable, he hated not knowing why people did what they did. His ability to read people was something he was beginning to feel the odd spark of pride for, but in this moment, he just wasn’t sure what was happening with Knightley. Is he insecure about something maybe...? He can be like that sometimes.
“Thank you it looks lovely! And you did great today, you know right?”
There was the usual cocky grin when Knightley got any praise but also if anything, he seemed to get more flustered. His cheeks became even more red and his eyes darted to and from Simon as if uncertain where to look.
Huh. Weird.
Simon was having a bad day.
This was nothing uncommon. It was maybe a year since Knightley had convinced him they could run away from the orphanage together. The year had been full of constant bad days where Simon felt his entire being was encompassed by fear. Some days it felt like fear was all he was, that if he were carved open all that would be there would be an amorphous skittering sharp mass of fear.
There was fear of where they would shelter. Fear of if they would have enough food. Fear of if their income would be stable. And fear of when Ms Roland or the prosecutor or the president would find them. It was only a matter of time. Patricia Roland probably knew them better than their short amount of memories allowed them to know themselves. Blaise Debeste had the whole police after him. The killer was the goddamn president of a country. It was only luck that he hadn’t been found already. No one had recognised him from the wanted posters, but even with his hair dyed his face and stature still looked the same. Someone would send him to his doom thinking they were doing the right thing.
Even if they did know what would happen to me… would anyone even care?
His insignificance to others wasn’t an uncommon notion to him, but today it was met with bitter, burning despair and hatred and he didn’t know what. He dragged his hands through his hair roughly. It was dry from the bleach and probably needed a wash but what was the point. He could probably at least move from sitting against the wall to on his bed but once again, what was the point.
He wondered if he’d missed a shift today. The idea of losing his job wasn’t unappealing despite how much easier its income made his life. Having to be around others, putting on a mask of politeness which was never met in return. He wasn’t sure who was worse, his co-workers or the general public. It wasn’t just that they could dob in his identity to the police, even besides this there was something to them that unsettled him. Humanity was almost predictable in its shallowness, its untrustworthiness. Being amongst them sometimes felt like walking amongst lions, entirely aware of the ease at which they could end his life, just waiting for the jaws to snap. Sometimes this feeling was terrifying, and he could feel his body shaking as his system prepared him to flee.
Other times frustration and rage built up until it felt like a great roar within him.
God, he wished he could bite.
A gentle knock came from the door. Once the sound would have startled him but now, he could pinpoint the exact sound, a sharp rap that was still trying to be gentle.
“Hey, I made you some food” At some point Simon had shifted to the bed but he didn’t see the need to sit up to face Knightley. “bad day huh?”
“Mm.”
A pause, the sound of footfalls.
“Here, uh, I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today so I made some gyudon. It isn’t sweet.”
Knightley had a look on his face Simon had lately realised was protective concern.
“Great. Thanks.”
His stomach did feel hollow now that food was presented to him. Well, he could hardly attack any beastly threats on an empty stomach.
Knightley smiled briefly as Simon took his first bite but as he sat and turned to face Simon his face was serious.
“Hey, Simon,” there was something very intense in his dark eyes, “I hate to see you sad. I… don’t always know how to help,” his fingers were clutching the blanket tightly, “But! I can protect you. I will protect you, nothing too bad’s happened right? The cops have never found us,” Simon flinched “and we have a place and money now. Look- “
A pause and Knightley seemed to hesitate before plunging back into his passionate speech.
“We can get through things together. If you’re struggling, you’ve got me. I’ll watch your back, that’s what a knight does right? Protect the king. I want you to know that, okay?”
Simon’s emotions previously harsh and dull were spinning. He didn’t know to respond to this…pep talk? Promise of loyalty? His earlier state still wanted to be angry, begging him to snap at Knightley (he was practically calling him weak). But the rest of him felt warm, like he did when returning home from a late shift or trip to the store and knowing that soon he could play chess or plot fanciful thieveries or just exist in the same space as Knightley, without the judgement of others. He felt almost comforted.
“Oh.”
Knightley didn’t seem to mind the lack of response. He seemed to be blushing again. He briefly clasped Simon’s arm before standing to leave.
“Right. I’ll be nearby!”
Simon ate his food slowly. It was nice enough he noted, Knightley tended to put too much sugar in but he now knew Simon wouldn’t eat sweet things – the taste caused the heavy off kilter feeling he associated with his buried memories of a child he didn’t know. It was a sensation he would rather avoid, and so Knightley had wordlessly agreed to help him do so.
They had an unspoken agreement overall to never speak about these buried memories and their lives before. Talking of such matters would only bring pain, they had enough of that with their strange triggers and frequent abstract nightmares that they could make no sense of in the morning. Even so their mutual understanding was helpful. Having someone understand what the other was experiencing made them feel…connected. Comforted.
And that was a notion wasn’t it? Knightley was comforting to him. It was perhaps a little strange for this to be such a large realisation but considering the past year and a half-
I didn’t think I’d be able to be comfortable anywhere or around anyone ever again.
Simon recalled how earnest his friend had looked during his speech. ‘You’ve got me. I’ll watch your back’ It was true, wasn’t it? Knightley was always there. He wasn’t even the one under threat from Roland and the others but still he went with Simon and stuck with him. Simon never even told him why he was being targeted but he didn’t care. He was always… there for Simon. Sure, he could be annoying, but he was always there with dumb jokes, a reassuring hand, random gifts and now, very passionate support.
Huh.
Yeah Simon knew he liked boys. He'd thought he liked girls too, for a while, but realised he was feeling admiration for the clothes they got to wear, how they could act and style their long pretty hair more than anything. It was only boys he could imagine himself dating, and he was happy and confident with this fact.
What he wasn’t so happy about was how damn complicated it made things when he started getting feelings for a very specific boy.
Quiet nights in were pretty standard for them and huddling together on the couch was more common since their heating had begun blowing out cold and an ominous sound. They both had issues with the cold and had gotten used to remedying it with body heat when they had been stuck on the streets.
So while, yes this was a normal state for them to be in, nothing about it felt normal anymore!
They weren’t even that close, just legs almost pressed together under a blanket. Knightley was reading one of his chess strategies books and Simon was trying to sketch. It was very hard when he was ridiculously aware of the boy next to him. And it wasn’t just now that he was fixated on him. Since the other day he’d realised how attentive and supportive Knightley was and started paying attention to instances of this. This had turned to just watching Knightley in general. He’d always been tall but lately he was starting to look less like someone who’d been stretched and more like a young adult. With nice muscles…
It was weird that he hadn’t realised earlier, but Knightley really was great. More than great, maybe.
But now Simon didn’t feel comfortable around him.
It wasn’t the base level of discomfort he got around strangers, he still trusted Knightley, but he now constantly felt nervous in his presence. It was an annoying trade off. To realise that hey, he did have someone on his side, he wasn’t completely alone, but now he had feelings for him that made half his time in his presence extremely awkward.
There was an obvious solution to this and if he had perceived correctly, Knightley probably wouldn’t be against him confessing. The staring then looking away while blushing was a dead giveaway, because it was something Simon was now often doing himself. Furthermore, he trusted his ability to read people. But this wasn’t stalling a target or digging into a co-worker’s insecurities, Knightley was more than anyone else. And if he read him wrong, he could risk losing their friendship. No way no way, it’s too risky just yet. It looked like he was stuck in this state for a while. Maybe he’d get the courage, or Knightley would. That was fine.
The world was against him, but he had someone precious by his side. Maybe, for a moment, he could be content with that.