bambi eyes || tradley

7. we need each other

The curly-haired questioningly took in the silent and still flat as he slowly stepped through the door. Everything looked exactly how Bambi had left it, but something in the atmosphere seemed wrong; although, the brown-eyed boy couldn't exactly put his finger on it. "Tris?" he called out into the apartment. Bambi furrowed his brows after only receiving silence. He passed by Tristan's aircraft in the parking lot so he knew the twenty-one-year-old must be somewhere in the flat.

Closing the door behind himself, he latched the lock back together before making his way into Tristan's room. "Tris?" he called out once again with furrowed brows.

Suddenly Tristan stumbled out of the toilet with his phone in hand. Bambi slowly turned to him, opening his mouth to ask the man if he were okay, but Tristan spoke first: "I think my stalker was just in my flat."

"Stalker?" Bambi echoed.

He nodded. "I've been feeling like someone's eyes are on me for a while, and then I see this creepy guy by my car telling me -"

"We're not safe," he repeated in a far away tone that scared Tristan as much as the first time he heard it.

His blue eyes widened at the words that left the young boy's lips. "How do you know that?"

"I don't know." Bambi shrugged. "Please continue."

"You're scaring me," Tristan admitted. "First, you know the man from my dream, and then you know what my alleged stalker told me..."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you."

Everything that had happened since Bambi stumbled out of his trunk rushed back into his mind, and then he felt the reality of it. Suddenly Tristan was scared. He couldn't believe he allowed someone who hit his best mate unconscious with a ladder and hospitalised six police officers stay in his house, and then allowed him to sleep beside him in his bed. The stranger had any chance to do anything to him, and anything to his apartment. Tristan couldn't believe his stupidity. He was just so blinded by his innocent appearance. It was almost like he was harmless.

"Nineteen-Seventeen," the light-haired man slowly said, backing into the wall behind him, "who are you really?"

The boy furrowed his brows at the question. "I don't understand what you're asking."

"You know exactly what I'm asking," Tristan claimed. "Just tell me. The police are already on their way."

A pained look captured the confusion on Bambi's face. "You called the police on me?"

Tristan proudly nodded.

"But I thought we were friends."

"You know nothing about me," the blond reminded him, "and I know nothing about you."

"I don't even know anything about myself!" he angrily replied. "I'm as scared as you are! Why do you even think I'm still here? You're the only way I can find out my past!"

"I know nothing about your past! I don't even know mine, for fucks sake!"

"See, Tris?" The brown-eyed boy stepped closer, causing Tristan to attempt stepping backwards until he realised he had his body pressed to the wall. "We need each other."

"Fuck," Tristan muttered as he heard a hard knock on the door, "you need to hide."

. . .

Slowly and reluctantly, the twenty-one-year-old partially eased the door open to two intimidating police officers kindly greeting him. Anxiety instantly twisted its way into his stomach. Authority never failed to make Tristan nervous (not that he actually did anything to be arrested for.)