Chapter 17.
1036 Words
The silver tin felt cold against Harper’s palm, a small metallic anchor in a world that was still slowly stitching itself back together. It was only 1:00 AM, but the night already felt like it had lasted a lifetime. The vibrant violet trails of the mushrooms were beginning to settle, leaving the sky a deep, obsidian black. The degeneration was starting to leak into a chilly reality, and the ache in Harper’s bones was beginning to whisper again.
She didn't want the whisper to become a scream.
"Again?" Kane asked, his voice low and raspy. He was lying flat on his back beside her on the wool blanket, his leather jacket unzipped, staring straight up into the vacuum of space.
"I’m not ready for the pain again," Harper murmured. She tilted the tin, and they took the next hit- harder, sharper, a chemical veil that descended over the world to keep the monsters at bay.
As the new wave of heat began to curl through her veins, the air between them grew thick with a different kind of honesty. The barriers that usually stood guard around Kane- the predatory smirks and the calculated distance, seemed to have eroded into the cracked asphalt beneath them.
"You asked me why I'm the way I am earlier," Kane said. He didn't turn his head; he watched the stars as if they were a map he was trying to memorize. "My old man is a Senator’s aide. High walls, marble floors, and enough 'straight and narrow' to choke a person. When I was fourteen, my stepmother decided I was a 'disruptive element.' My father didn't disagree. He didn't want a kid with grease under his fingernails ruining the Christmas cards."
Harper rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her hand. The movement felt heavy, like she was moving through honey.
"They kicked me out," he continued, a cold, flat edge to his voice. "Gave me a lawyer, an emancipation suit, and a monthly check to stay invisible. I’ve been living in garages and back-alleys since I was a freshman. Sold whatever people wanted to buy, spent enough time in juvie to know the menu by heart. I never had a 'normal' life, Brooks. So I never saw the point in pretending one existed."
Harper felt a surge of empathy that made her chest tighten. She reached out, her hand clumsy and weighted by the drugs, and rested it on his chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic thrum of his heart.
"You were just a kid," she whispered. "They turned you into a adult before you even had a chance to be a kid."
Kane let out a short, dry laugh, the sound disappearing into the vastness of the drive-in lot. "Maybe. But the check clears every month. It buys the gas for the GTO. It buys the life I want."
They sat in that shared darkness for a while, the hum of the chemicals and the weight of their secrets weaving them together on the small island of their blanket. Harper felt the urge to match his honesty- to throw something into the dark that she had never told Maxine, never told her mother, and certainly never told Ryan.
"I did dream of being married," Harper blurted out, the words tripping over her tongue before she could catch them. "But I didn't want it to be a list item. It felt... silly. Like I was trying to play house while the roof was on fire."
"What is it?" Kane asked, finally turning his head to look at her.
"I’m a virgin," she said, the confession hanging in the cool air. She felt a heat crawl up her neck that had nothing to do with the drugs. "I don’t want to die a virgin. You know? It’s just... it feels like another thing the clock is stealing."
She shook her head, suddenly embarrassed, staring down at the frayed edge of the wool blanket.
"I thought-" Kane started, his brow furrowing.
"What? That because Derek and I were together for six months, we were 'doing it'?" Harper laughed, a sharp, edgy sound. "No. He always said he wanted it to be 'special.' He’d give me these long speeches about waiting for the right moment. I think... I think he just didn't actually want to be with me in that way. Maybe he could smell the sickness on me even then. Maybe I was already a science project to him."
The silence returned, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the silence of two people standing on the same ledge, looking down. A few yards away, the GTO groaned as its metal cooled, a mechanical heartbeat in the wasteland.
Kane shifted, the blanket rustling beneath him. He looked at her, his green eyes dark and unreadable, yet softer than she had ever seen them.
"If you wanted..." he murmured, the offer hanging low and quiet between them. "We could..."
Harper looked at him, her heart skipping a beat. She saw the sincerity in his face- the lack of pity, the simple, raw offer of a human connection that had nothing to do with doctors or death. She smiled, but she shook her head slowly, her hair fanning out over the pillow.
"I'm certainly not in the headspace for it now," she laughed, the sound light but tired. "But maybe... I might... maybe I'll take you up on that at a later date. As long as the sick girl doesn't disgust you too much."
Kane reached out, his hand cupping the side of her face. His skin was rough from years of working on engines, but his touch was incredibly gentle.
"Nothing about you disgusts me, Harper Brooks," he said firmly.
She leaned into his palm, closing her eyes as the stars continued their slow, silent dance above the abandoned screen. It was only the beginning of the night, and the world of hospitals and worried mothers was still hours away. For now, they were just two people on a blanket, holding onto the only thing that felt real.
- Writer
