Imagines growing old and gray and dying, but knowing his people would still be safe in Nostringvadha’s faithful hands.
And what about Obie? Did he even know what death was when he first arrived on Earth? How much did it break him when he realized that his humans wouldn’t live forever like him, thatAdawouldn’t live forever like him?
How much did it destroy him when he had to bury his first friend’s last descendant?
Carefully, Chester fits his hand onto Obie’s shoulder.Thank you for telling me,he pushes through the bond.It means a lot that you trust me.
Obie looks away.Yeah. Yeah, of course.
Hell of a thing to have in common, though.When Obie glances back at him, frowning, Chester adds,That the Sanctum killed both of our families. And—and you don’t have to mourn them alone anymore, Obie. History hasn’t forgotten about them anymore. Because I know about them now, too. We can remember them together.
Obie’s breath shudders out of him. For a long moment, he searches Chester’s eyes. “Yeah?” he asks hoarsely.
“Yeah, I’d love that.” Chester hesitates. “Tell me about them? Maybe about—about Ada and Kai?”
A slow smile spreads across Obie’s face. “Okay,” he says, and he slides his hand into Chester’s.
The spartan Sanctum bedroom dissolves around them. Startled, Chester jerks closer to Obie as the world re-forms into a breathtaking forest stretching out in every direction, the air cleaner and fresher than Chester has ever tasted it.
“Whoa,” he breathes. “Obie?—”
“This,” Obie says, “is a real memoryscape. The smaller ones are just mock-ups.” He pushes himself to his feet, tugging on Chester’s hand; not letting go, Chester follows him. “We’re… not quite in the physical world right now. Without getting too into the technicalities, we’re at the point where my mind meets yours. So we can manipulate this environment to an extent, but in reality, we’re still right next to your desk. You don’t have to worry about walking into any walls.”
“Comforting,” Chester says faintly, looking around with wide eyes. Up ahead, there’s a small clearing dotted with shelters and bustling with people, everyone clad in furs as their voices rise and fall on the wind. “Obie, this isincredible.”
Obie’s smile curves higher. “I’m glad you like it,” he says, pulling Chester forward—towards, he realizes suddenly, a woman sitting at the very edge of the camp. “This isn’t the memory of an exact day. It’s more like… a composite of memories. A general scene instead of a specific one. Ada and I would watch the sunset together almost every evening, so that’s how I remember her best.”
Chester’s heart flutters. There’s something about the casual intimacy of Obie sitting next to his best friend to watch the sunset that feels almost… private.
Like Obie is showing Chester something that’s deeply important to him.
They arrive at a flattened patch of grass near the woman—girl, Chester realizes with a start; she’s still a teenager in this memory. Somehow, that makes it feel even more personal.
Slowly, Obie kneels down next to her. “This is Ada,” he says, andthe unadorned affection in his voice makes Chester’s chest ache. “You would’ve liked her. She was stupid, just like you.”
“Hey,” Chester says, but he doesn’t bother putting any heat behind the word as he crouches down, memorizing the details of Ada’s face. Smooth brown skin that’s reminiscent of Obie’s, long black hair cascading past her shoulders, and pretty brown eyes that seem to sparkle in the fading sunlight. “She’s beautiful.”
“One of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met.” Obie pats the bundle of furs in Ada’s lap. “And this is Kai. I promise he’s buried somewhere in here—he was only a few weeks old, so he was still really small.”
Gently, Chester shifts the furs aside. A squishy little face peeks out at him, clearly fast asleep and cozy. “Hi, Baby Kai,” he murmurs, stroking his tiny cheek. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Kai’s face puckers up at Chester’s touch, but he doesn’t otherwise react. Ada doesn’t seem to see him at all, her eyes still fixed on the sunset.
These were Obie’s people. This was Obie’sfamily.
And Chester wants to know everything about them. Wants to know how they cooked their food, how they made their shelters, how they started their fires. Wants to know the stories they told about their past and the dreams they had for their future.
Wants to know how Obie was in the center of all that.
“Chester?”
When Chester looks back at Obie, he’s closer than Chester thought, closer than he expects. They’re sitting on the ground next to the memory of Ada, and Obie shifted into Chester’s space while he was distracted, his arm brushing against Chester’s.
And they’ve been this close before. This isn’t the first time Chester has had the opportunity to examine the streaks of amber in Obie’s dark eyes or the first time he’s felt Obie’s soft breath on his lips.
But it is the first time Chester lets himself savor it, the first time he lets himselfenjoyit. It’s the first time that Chester allows himself to mentally calculate the scant distance between them and think about how little it would take to close that distance.
Kiss me.The thought is brash and impulsive and just as stupid as Obie always claims Chester is, and for the barest hint of a second, it’s almost like the memory of Ada smiles in encouragement. Chester isn’t going to initiate anything—not after how much trust and trauma Obie just poured into him—but if Obie makes the first move, then Chester is going to show him exactly how much that trust means to him.Kiss me, Obie. Please.
