Chapter 12: The Road Trip

The city disappeared behind them.

Sebastian watched through the back window as Vancouver shrank to a blur of lights and then to nothing. The highway curved into the mountains, trees crowding on both sides, snow dusting the branches. The sky was grey and low, promising more snow before nightfall.

Julian's hand was still in his. Neither of them had let go.

The driver kept his eyes on the road. He was a large man with a quiet face, the kind of person who had seen everything and said nothing. Sebastian was grateful for that.

"How long is the drive?" Sebastian asked.

"Three hours," the driver said. "Maybe four if the weather gets worse."

Sebastian nodded. He looked at Julian. Julian was staring out the window, his thumb tracing small circles on Sebastian's knuckles.

"You are quiet," Sebastian said.

"Thinking."

"About what?"

Julian turned to look at him. His face was serious, but there was something soft underneath. "About the last time I was in a car with you. The drive to the cabin."

Sebastian frowned. "We have never driven to a cabin together."

Julian smiled. It was a sad smile. "No. Not together. But I drove past that camp once. A few years ago. I sat in the parking lot and looked at the lake and wondered if you ever thought about me."

Sebastian's chest tightened. "I did. I did not know it was you I was thinking about. But I did."

Julian squeezed his hand. "That helps. Knowing that."

---

The road got steeper.

The trees got thicker. The snow got deeper. The driver turned on the headlights even though it was only the middle of the afternoon. The sky had darkened to a bruised purple.

Sebastian watched the world pass by. He had never been to this part of the mountains before. It was wild and empty and beautiful. He could see why the league had chosen this place for their punishment. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

"Tell me something," Julian said.

"Anything."

"Tell me what you remember. From the camp. Even if it is just a feeling."

Sebastian closed his eyes. He let his mind drift back to the summer he had tried so hard to forget. The images were still blurry, but the feelings were there. Warmth. Laughter. The smell of pine trees and lake water.

"I remember being happy," Sebastian said. "I remember feeling like I belonged somewhere. Like someone saw me. Really saw me."

Julian's breath caught. "That was me."

"I know. I know that now."

Sebastian opened his eyes. Julian was looking at him with an expression he had never seen before. Not hope. Not sadness. Something in between.

"Do you remember the last night?" Julian asked.

Sebastian shook his head. "Not yet. But I remember the stars. I remember thinking they were the brightest I had ever seen."

Julian laughed, a soft sound. "You said that. You said I have never seen stars like this. And I said They are the same stars everywhere else. And you said No, they are not. These are ours."

Sebastian felt something crack in his chest. The words were familiar, even though he did not remember saying them. They felt like they belonged to him.

"These are ours," Sebastian repeated.

"These are ours," Julian said.

---

The driver pulled off the main highway onto a smaller road. The pavement turned to gravel. The gravel turned to packed snow. The car crawled forward, tires crunching, the forest closing in around them.

Sebastian saw the cabin before the driver announced it.

It was small and wooden, tucked into a grove of pine trees at the end of a long driveway. Smoke came from the chimney. Lights glowed in the windows. It looked like something from a postcard.

The driver stopped the car and killed the engine.

"Here we are," he said. "I will be back in two weeks."

He got out, opened the trunk, and set their bags on the snow. Then he got back in the car, turned around, and drove away.

Sebastian and Julian stood in the driveway, alone, the snow falling around them, the silence heavy.

"Well," Julian said. "Here we are."

"Here we are."

They picked up their bags and walked to the front door. The key was under the mat, just like the letter had said. Sebastian unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The cabin was warm inside.

A fire burned in the stone fireplace. The kitchen was small but clean. The windows looked out at the mountains, white and endless. There was a couch, a table, a bookshelf full of old paperbacks.

And there, through a door off the living room, was the bedroom.

Sebastian walked to the doorway. He looked inside.

One bed.

A big one, but still just one.

Julian came up behind him. He looked over Sebastian's shoulder and went very still.

"The letter said fully furnished," Julian said. "It did not say how many beds."

"It said fully furnished. Not fully bedded."

Julian laughed. It was a nervous laugh. "That is not a word."

"It is now."

They stood there, staring at the bed. The tension was thick enough to cut.

"I will take the couch," Sebastian said.

"No. Your back will hurt. You have games to play when we get back."

"My back is fine."

"Your back is not fine. I have seen you stretch after practice. You have the spine of a seventy year old man."

Sebastian almost laughed. "And you have a knee that is still healing. You cannot sleep on a couch."

Julian's jaw tightened. "We can share. The bed is big enough. We can put pillows between us. It does not have to mean anything."

Sebastian looked at Julian. At the man he had hated for five years. At the boy he had loved seven years ago. At the person who had waited for him through all of it.

"Okay," Sebastian said. "We share."

---

They unpacked in silence.

Sebastian put his clothes in the small dresser. Julian hung his jacket on the hook by the door. They moved around each other carefully, like two people who were afraid of breaking something.

When the bags were empty, they stood in the middle of the cabin, not sure what to do next.

"I am hungry," Julian said.

"I can cook."

"You can cook?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I can make pasta. That is cooking."

Julian smiled. "Pasta it is."

They found a box of spaghetti in the pantry and a jar of sauce in the cabinet. Sebastian boiled water while Julian sat on a stool at the counter, watching him.

"You are staring," Sebastian said.

"I am paying attention. There is a difference."

Sebastian turned to look at him. Julian's face was soft in the firelight, his dark hair falling across his forehead. He looked younger than he had in years. Less tired.

"You said that to me once," Sebastian said. "At the wedding. I said you do not know anything about me and you said I pay attention."

Julian's eyes widened. "You remember that?"

"I remember that. I remember thinking it was strange. That someone like you would pay attention to someone like me."

"Someone like me?"

"Rich. Perfect. Untouchable."

Julian shook his head. "I was never any of those things. I was just good at pretending."

Sebastian turned back to the stove. The water was boiling. He dumped the pasta in and set a timer.

"I am sorry," Sebastian said. "For all those years. For making you pretend."

"You did not make me do anything. I chose to stay. I chose to wait. I chose to love you even when you did not remember."

Sebastian's hands stilled on the counter.

"Why?" he asked. "Why did you stay?"

Julian was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

"Because you were the first person who ever looked at me like I mattered. Not because of my name or my money or what I could do for you. You just looked at me and saw me. And I could not forget that. Even when you did."

Sebastian turned around. Julian was crying. Silent tears running down his cheeks.

Sebastian crossed the kitchen and pulled Julian into his arms. Julian buried his face in Sebastian's chest and held on.

"I see you now," Sebastian said. "I see you, Julian. And I am not going to forget again."

Julian nodded against his chest. His shoulders shook. Sebastian held him tighter.

The pasta boiled over. Neither of them noticed.

---

They ate dinner by the fire.

The pasta was overcooked and the sauce was bland, but they ate every bite. The cabin was warm and quiet, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the wind outside.

After dinner, they washed the dishes together. Sebastian washed. Julian dried. Their hands touched in the soapy water, and neither of them pulled away.

"It is getting late," Julian said.

"Yeah."

"We should probably sleep."

"Yeah."

Neither of them moved.

Finally, Sebastian dried his hands and walked to the bedroom. Julian followed. They stood on opposite sides of the bed, looking at the pillows.

"I will get some from the couch," Julian said.

He came back with two throw pillows and placed them in the middle of the bed. A barrier. A promise.

"Okay," Julian said. "Okay."

They got into bed. The pillows between them. The lights off. The fire still glowing through the doorway.

Sebastian lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Julian lay on his side, facing away.

"Julian."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For waiting."

Julian was quiet for a moment. Then he rolled over, pushed the pillows aside, and reached for Sebastian's hand.

"I would wait forever," Julian said. "But I am glad I do not have to."

They lay there, hands intertwined, the snow falling outside, the fire burning low. The pillows were somewhere on the floor. Neither of them reached for them.

Sebastian closed his eyes. For the first time in seven years, he felt like he was home.