Psync by Zile Elliven

Chapter Twelve

Haruka

It had been a good morning, all things considered. He’d finally gotten to check in on Eli since his abrupt departure from the fair, which had been weighing on Haruka’s mind. Something about the kid kept tugging at him.

At first, it had been the clumsiness and those beautiful blue Bambi eyes. Both were impossible to ignore. But the intelligence and the obvious battle the boy was fighting had kept Haruka’s attention.

And there had been the other thing.

It took a lot to faze Haruka. In the gray, boring world he lived in, curious things might catch his attention briefly, but they inevitably faded into the grayness along with everything else.

The first time Haruka heard the voice, it was enough to capture his entire attention. The speech he’d prepared for orientation had escaped, and in its place was panic—a stranger’s panic. Someone nearby was terrified, and it struck Haruka like a fist to the gut.

It never occurred to him that it might have been his imagination—Haruka wasn’t imaginative. He dealt in absolutes, and the panic the voice radiated had been so strong, it was impossible for Haruka to believe it was anything other than real. He’d tried to find the person in the crowd, did his best to listen using whatever he’d used to hear them in the first place, but he couldn’t find them. All he had was a lingering sense that there was something he was missing.

Since that was normal for him, he decided to let it go. Until it happened again. And again. Over the next week, Haruka began to get used to the random stabs of panic flooding his system. Perhaps he should have been bothered by them, but he was more concerned with the person experiencing them firsthand.

He got his first clue it might be Eli when they’d shared a class together. The panic that flickered through Haruka as he watched Eli break down seemed tiny in comparison to what the poor boy was going through.

It might not have been Eli, though. Maybe somehow Haruka had tapped into panicking people in general and could hear everyone near him who was having their own personal crisis. But each incident seemed to have a flavor to it—something he couldn’t quite place.

Saturday at the club fair, Haruka had watched as Eli fell from the fence. Had seen Eli’s face when his friend had caught him at the exact same moment Wrongwrongwrong had rung out inside Haruka’s chest.

It was obvious to him the boy didn’t want to be touched. Was his aversion enough to cause the panic Haruka had just felt?

He had to know. Was Eli the source of all the distraction in Haruka’s life? Or only the main one?

So, he’d spent the day with him. Haruka had followed Eli and observed him and his friends, and it hadn’t been what he’d expected.

Haruka wasn’t bored, nor was he mildly annoyed—something he had become accustomed to when spending a long period of time with a person. It had been . . . soothing.

Eli was nothing like the person he’d shown Haruka until then. He’d been as happy as a child, flitting from booth to booth, coming more and more out of his shell as the day progressed.

The hunched posture and hunted demeanor the boy wore like a second skin had vanished, and in its place was something Haruka could only describe as enchanting.

When Eli had written his name in calligraphy, Haruka couldn’t have left his side if he’d been told to.

But the voice stayed quiet, so that particular mystery was still unsolved.

Now Haruka had a new problem. He couldn’t stop thinking about Eli—or the way he attracted the gaze of other people. The more he’d blossomed by Haruka’s side, the more other people had noticed. Anxious Eli was beautiful, but cheerful, relaxed Eli was transcendent.

All of Sunday, Haruka had been restless. Eli had been upset when they’d parted—not with him. Haruka knew he’d done nothing wrong. He was fully capable of helping and protecting Eli if something happened, and—he suspected—so was Eli.

The boy was battling demons most people didn’t have to face, but he was also clearly capable of handling himself, even if he was accident-prone.

So, why was Haruka so uneasy about having Eli out of his sight? And why had it bothered him to see Eli acting so free with his roommate this morning? He’d seemed unfazed by the touch of the other boy, and it didn’t sit right with Haruka.

Haruka reached for his phone to text Eli about lunch when it happened.

Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrong

Haruka nearly dropped his phone from the intensity of the voice.

Without thinking he called Eli and didn’t wait for the boy to speak. “Where are you?”

There was something very wrong with Eli’s voice when he answered, “Um, by the Old Chapel, near the main pond.” His voice was tight and laced with something that tasted exactly like the remnants of second-hand anxiety lingering in Haruka’s chest.

Haruka was only minutes away. He didn’t actually need to meet with Bryan right now. He could wait, but it didn’t sound like Eli could. “I’m almost there.”

Haruka texted his friend about the change of plans while he hurried toward Eli. He didn’t run, but only barely.

He slowed his pace before reaching his destination. If something was wrong, he didn’t want his own worry to pile on top of Eli’s.

It was clear as soon as he saw Eli there was something wrong. His hood was up, string pulled tight, and his arms were wrapped around his body, both fists clenched so tightly they were white. He was smiling, but it looked like he was holding a razorblade in his mouth. “Hi, did you want to have lunch? It’s a little early, but—”

“Don’t.” Haruka couldn’t bear it. Eli’s razorblade smile was cutting Haruka right to the core.

“Don’t what? Have lunch?”

“Don’t pretend like you’re okay when you’re not.” Haruka stepped right into Eli’s space. He wanted to shield Eli from whatever was happening inside of him. Needed to. Even though the boy had never asked him for a single thing.

Instead of skittering back, like Haruka had seen him do countless times with other people, he stood his ground, eyebrows scrunched together adorably. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.” Even though Haruka really, really wanted to know so he could go hurt someone. “But don’t lie to me.” Haruka leaned in to make his point.

Eli bit his lip, worrying at the same ragged spot Haruka had seen him assaulting on Saturday shortly before he’d bolted.

Haruka should have eased back to give Eli room to breathe, but something in his gut wouldn’t let him. It wanted him to scoop the boy up and take him somewhere safe. And that scared the shit out of him.

Haruka didn’t do things like this. He didn’t get invested in things or people. He had his agenda, and everything he did was solely for the purpose of furthering it. He was looking for something, and he would find it or die trying.

Except . . . the pull to find that something didn’t have the same hold on him as it had before. Either Eli’s situation was so loud it was blocking out the pull, or something about or near Eli was the thing Haruka had been searching for.

Whatever the case, Haruka wasn’t going anywhere until he’d figured out which one it was. Even if he was wildly out of his comfort zone.

“Fine. I wasn’t okay, but I will be. And I don’t want to talk about it.” Eli’s eyes darted to either side of Haruka as if he were looking for tigers in the trees. “So . . . lunch? Or do you just want me to give your hoodie back.” He continued to avoid Haruka’s gaze.

There was no way in hell Haruka was taking his hoodie back. Not with the way Eli was burrowing into it like it was his only friend. “Keep it.”

When Haruka had given it to Eli this morning, it had been for a multitude of reasons. Aside from the obvious, he’d needed to do something about the way everyone had been surreptitiously ogling the half-frozen boy. Wrapping Eli in something belonging to him had been a great solution. If it were up to him, Eli would wear it forever.

“Let’s go eat.” He motioned for Eli to follow him. He’d like to take the boy back to his room, but had a feeling Eli would balk, so he led him to the closest cafeteria and piled his own tray with food, noting that—once again—Eli had chosen next to nothing for himself.

The boy was whisper-thin, and something needed to be done about it.