Keeper of the Lost Secrets

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Biana Becomes a Textbook Storybook Villain

I stood up from my seat scrambled away from Keefe's touch. He stood up too, his mouth and eyes wide open, turning his head between Biana and I, muttering something that would get him trouble with his parents. I could barely process the window Biana was waving at my face, smugly smiling as if it were an accomplishment.

"Biana," I said slowly when I could compose myself. I took three tentative steps toward her. "Please. Delete that picture. Now."

"Why should I?" She had her head held so high, one arm on her hip and childish mockery written on her face, as if she had no idea what she was doing.

"Please, Biana." My voice was shaky, and I was picking my words carefully, but all I wanted was the hurl the most hurtful things at her. "No one can know about," I gestured my hands in a flurry at the store and us. "This."

"Why?" She said. "Are you ashamed of what's going on here?"

"No!" I cried out, barely able to hold back tears. "You full well what'll happen if dad finds out. If anyone finds out. Please, Biana, I'm begging you."

Biana paused for a second. A look of remorse crossed her features, softening every sharp angle of her jaw. But her cold, unfeeling expression returned just as suddenly it left. She reached at my table and grabbed a bottle of youth. She splashed it all over me, my clothes soaked completely. Tears blurred my vision.

From behind me, I heard Keefe grunt, as if he suddenly awoke from a slumber. He grabbed the blondie he had ordered and smeared it all over her dress.

"I will never like someone like you." Keefe said coldly. He made a dash for my ice cream, but the girl who worked there had come out. She barred Keefe from the ice cream and glared daggers at Biana.

"Please, no violence." She turned to Keefe and me with sympathy. She turned back to Biana. "If you would like to order something, please head to the counter."

"I'm alright," she said, smirking at Keefe and I. "I've got what I needed to."

She turned around and strutted out the café. Her hair, dress and every aspect of her was perfect from the back. She walked out with no shame, and with a picture of Keefe kissing my hand. A picture of me, Fitz Vacker, being kissed on the hand by Keefe Sencen.

The girl turned around and furrowed her eyebrows and bit her lip. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, staring down at the bottle of youth all over my clothes. "Mostly."

Keefe put his clean hand on my shoulder and kissed my cheek. I wiped tears off my face and sniffed.

"What are we going to do?" I asked quietly to Keefe and the girl. They stared at each other then back at me.

"I don't know." Keefe murmured.

"If you want a place to stay, there's always the back of the store." She cracked a small joke, paired with a small smile, but everything had just become so big. I appreciated the effort and showed it with a smile.

"I just wonder if my father or mother will find out and what they'd do if they did." Keefe said, his voice trembling. I hugged him despite my clothes, and he hugged back despite my clothes.

"By the way, what did you mean, 'I'll never like someone like you'?" I asked. Keefe tilted his head to the side and stared at me puzzled.

"You don't know?" Keefe said quietly. He put both hands on my shoulders as I shook my hand. "Babe, Biana likes me."

"What?!" I said too loudly. I cleared my throat, and suddenly everything she had done made sense. But I couldn't justify a minute of it.

"I figured out after I came over." He shook his at the thought. "I'd never date her, though. Not when I have such an awesome boyfriend."

I blushed so easily it made him smile wider and chuckle. I spoke after a moment. "Well, I'm not done with us, just because Biana thinks she's broken us up."

"Me too," Keefe said. He was a few inches taller, so I was staring tight as mouth. We were so close, I was sure for a moment, I thought that our lips would touch, and sparks would fly. But another person walked in the café, and we pulled away from each other, still blushing. Maybe another time.

***

I walked home, shivering. Snowflakes covered the towers of Everglen like human Christmas trees. They sprinkled on my hair. I stuck my tongue out and caught one, the tiny snowflake melting in an instant. The bottle of Youth Biana had splashed on me froze on my clothes.

The Lost Cities always had controlled weather, so likely father was entertaining a Froster and to appease them, had ordered for Everglen to be a snow palace. That's how I knew it was going to a heated meeting (pun intended).

I walked into Everglen and guided myself to my room. I had tidied my room after Keefe left. I straightened the sheets, put the pillows and blankets where they belonged. The only thing I refused to wash away was Keefe's scent, an exotic mix of every hair product he used.

I sat down and buried my head in my knees. I groaned, allowing myself to fall as a pathetic heap onto the bed. I breathed into the pink sheets, watching them move closer and further with every breath. I watched my tears spill onto the sheets. I watched the sheets soak them with ease.

I cried into my favourite pillow for solid fifteen minutes. It was the pillow on the furthest right, and it was tougher than most of my pillows, which allowed me to sink into them with no effort. But I hugged my favourite pillow, allowing it to feel all my tears, to hear every curse word I uttered about Biana. I allowed it to hear every cry out for a world where I could date Keefe, a world I could be queer without every person and every system telling me I was selfish, wrong and strange.

I wanted to run to Biana, shut the door of her room. Scream at her for every hurt she had caused me by taking one picture. I wanted to cry and crumple into a pile on her floor. I wanted her to justify what she did when faced with my tears.

Instead, I got up and sat up in my bed, all the tears I could possibly produce all over my pillow. I sat in the middle of a perfect, waiting for my father to storm through the hall and to me. Waiting, anxiously for him to scream and ridicule me. He didn't come.

So, I got up and ran to my bathroom. It was something I hated doing after crying was seeing my bloodshot eyes and red face. But I stood in front of myself anyway. I looked like a mess. I grabbed a few elixirs and drank them all at once. I saw my eyes return to their normal colours. I saw my skin brighten up, and I felt the lump in throat disappear. I wiped the remaining tears on my face and smiled at myself.

I heard a ringing noise from my bed and ran to see what it was. My imparter was buzzing, and a picture of Keefe had appeared on the screen. I smiled genuinely then, and picked up the call, sitting on my bed.

"Hey!" I smiled at a palm-sized Keefe. He grinned and waved.

"How are you doing?" His face morphed into one of worry. "Did Biana tell your parents yet?"

"I don't think so," I said quietly. "My father hasn't said anything."

Keefe blew out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as he did. "That's something at least. My parents haven't either."

I checked the time and froze. Keefe must have noticed my panic and stared right at the imparter. "Uh oh, what's up?"

"It's time for dinner with my family." I bit my lip. "If I know Biana, which I do, she'll tell my parents there."

Keefe sucked his teeth and stared at me with sad eyes. "I'm guessing you have to go?"

I nodded. "I'll update you, okay?" He nodded and offered me his signature smirk. Even if it was a bad time, I appreciated the effort. "Bye, Keefe."

"Bye babe." He blew me a kiss. "Already miss you."

I cut the call and stood up. My vision was failing me again. It felt as if the world was tilted. As if someone had put a filter that made everything a little more magical but a little more nightmarish. It felt as if reality was a dream. But I tiptoed to the dinner table anyways. Biana sat down, smiling like a villain, and my parents wore the same expression they wore always, like they were the kings and queens of the Lost Cities. It was the same expression every member of the Nobility wore.

"Welcome Fitz. Take a seat."