Fifteen minutes later, I’m at the outskirts of Batalla sector; the train station leading to Ruby appears around the corner. The darkness has lengthened enough for the streetlights to turn on, and a few soldiers are heading down the opposite sidewalk; aside from them, I’m the only one on this block.
But when I reach a slight curve in the street, I see two other people headed in my direction. I stop in my tracks. Then I frown and peer closer at the street before me. I’m still not sure of what I’m seeing.
A pair of young men. Details flit automatically through my mind, so familiar now that I hardly think twice about them. Both are tall and lean, with pale blond hair that stands out in the dimly lit night. Instantly I know that they must be related, with their similar features and easy gaits. The one on the left wears glasses and is talking animatedly, brushing golden curls out of his eyes as he goes, his hands painting some sort of diagram in front of him. He keeps rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows, and his collar shirt is loose and rumpled. A carefree smile lights up his face.
The young man on the right seems more reserved, listening patiently to his curly-haired companion while he keeps his hands tucked casually in his pockets. A small grin touches the corners of his lips. His hair is different from what I remember, now short and endearingly unruly, and as he walks he occasionally runs a hand through it, leaving it even more wayward. His eyes are as blue as ever. Even though he’s older now, with the face of a young man instead of the teenager I’d known so well, he still shows hints of that old fire whenever he laughs at his brother’s words, moments of startling brightness and life.
My heart begins to beat, cutting through the heaviness that weighs on my chest. Day and Eden.
I keep my head down as they draw closer. But from the corner of my vision, I see Eden notice me first. He pauses for a second in the middle of his sentence, and a quick smile appears on his face. His eyes flicker to his brother.
Day casts me a look.
The intensity of it catches me off guard—I haven’t been subjected to his gaze in so long that suddenly I can’t catch my breath. I straighten and quicken my pace. I need to get out of here. Otherwise, I’m not sure whether I can keep my emotions from spilling onto my face.
We pass each other without a word. My lungs feel like they might burst, and I take a few quick breaths to steady myself. I close my eyes. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, the steady thumping of my heart. Gradually I hear the sound of their footsteps fade behind me. A sinking feeling slowly settles. I swallow hard, forcing a flood of memories out of my mind.
I’m heading toward the train station. I’m going home. I’m not going to look back.
I can’t.
Then . . . I hear footsteps behind me again. Hurried boots against pavement. I pause, steel myself, and look over my shoulder.
It’s Day. He catches up to me. Some distance behind him, Eden waits with his hands in his pockets. Day stares into my eyes with a soft, puzzled expression—it sends an electric shiver down my spine. “Excuse me,” he says. Oh, that voice. Deeper, gentler than I remember, without the rawness of childhood and with the new elegance of an adult. “Have we met before?”
For a moment, I’m at a loss for words. What do I say? I’ve spent so many years convincing myself that we no longer know each other. “No,” I whisper. “Sorry.” In my mind, I beg myself to tell him otherwise.
Day frowns, confused for a moment. He runs his hand through his hair. In that gesture, I catch a glimpse of something shiny on his finger. It’s a ring made out of wires. Of paper clips. A breath escapes me in shock.
He is still wearing the paper clip ring I’d once given him.
“Oh,” he finally replies. “I’m sorry to bother you, then. I just . . . You look really familiar. Are you sure we don’t know each other from somewhere?”
I search his eyes in silence. I can’t say anything. There is a secret emotion emerging on his face now, somewhere between strangeness and familiarity, something that tells me he’s struggling to place me, to find where I belong. My heart protests, reaching out for him to discover it. Still, no words come out.
Day searches my face with his soft gaze. Then he shakes his head. “I have known you,” he murmurs. “A long time ago. I don’t know where, but I think I know why.”
“Why, then?” I ask gently.
He’s quiet for a moment. Then he takes a step closer, close enough for me to see that tiny ripple of imperfection in his left eye. He laughs a little, pink creeping onto his cheeks. “I’m sorry. This is going to sound so strange.” I feel like I’m lost in a haze. Like this is a dream I don’t dare wake from. “I . . . ,” he begins, as if looking for the right words. “I’ve been searching a long time for something I think I lost.”
Something he lost. The words bring a lump to my throat, a sudden surge of wild hope. “It’s not strange at all,” I hear myself reply.
Day smiles in return. Something sweet and yearning appears in his eyes. “I felt like I found something when I saw you back there. Are you sure . . . do you know me? Do I know you?”
I don’t know what to say. The part of me that had once decided to step out of his life tells me to do it again, to protect him from this knowledge that had hurt him so long ago. Ten years . . . has it really been that long? The other part of me, the girl who had first met him on the streets, urges me to tell him the truth. Finally, when I do manage to open my mouth, I say, “I have to go meet up with some friends.”