The Sunshine in My Veins (Peterick) ➳ Book 1

Twelve

Brendon was in the study again.

Ryan had left for the day, which in Brendon's mind was a bad thing. The curiosity had been eating at him all week, just waiting for the perfect time to be solved. Then this morning during breakfast, Ryan had told Brendon that he was going to be out, meaning Brendon was to be home alone.

So, Brendon had played the part of the sad boyfriend—if he could even be called that—and done everything to make Ryan stay. And while Ryan wished for nothing other than to spend the day with Brendon he knew that people were relying on him. With a kiss he promised to be home as soon as he could and that they would spend tomorrow together, no interruptions.

That had been an hour ago and all Brendon could do was pace the long hallway. Did he want to know what was on that screen? Yes and no. It had scared him and all he really wanted to know was if he had saw what he really saw. At the same time he didn't.

In the end Brendon pushed open the door and sat himself down in Ryan's comfy office chair. His long fingers nudged the mouse ever so slightly and the screen came to life. No password was needed and in seconds the screen was just as it had been that night. It had been what he thought. The idea made Brendon sick.

The phone perched on the desk began ringing, and instinctively Brendon lifted the receiver and pressed it to his ear.

"Hey, Ryan. I need you to type in the password for this thing," the voice on the other end began.

There was a new box on the screen asking Brendon for a password.

"Ryan?"

Brendon let his fingers ghost over the keyboard. What would Ryan's password be? Something important, no doubt. . . . It hit him. Of course Ryan would pick that. He pressed on each key, slowly and deliberately spelling his own name: B-R-E-N-D-O-N.

The computer thanked him and so did the man on the phone. Brendon quickly hung up and wondered what he had just done. As he though, he watched the figure on the screen look directly at the camera and wave before wandering out of range. That must've been who he was talking to.

"Shit."

Brendon didn't hesitate to flee the room, hand over his mouth. What if he had given that man the ability to kill someone?

He made it just in time; head in the toilet, Brendon lost every bit of breakfast he's eaten and then some. After brushing his teeth, Brendon spent the rest of the day in bed, feeling one hundred percent guilty.

*

"Pete, why are we still here?"

Despite his promise, Pete hadn't relocated them the next day. Nor had they even left the apartment. Patrick was confused because Pete wasn't acting like himself at all. He had been sleeping when Patrick woke up, something very un-Pete like. The only time that had happened was the night Patrick told Pete about his random attacks.

Pete, startled, looked up and met Patrick's gaze. "We're working on finding out what's happening with you and the world."

"You said we were leaving. What's going on?"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing if it's got you worked up," Patrick reasoned.

"Seriously, just drop it."

"No, dammit, Pete, why can't you tell me?"

They were toe to toe now.

"Because I care about you!"

Before Patrick could reply, the window was blasted apart. The two split apart at the noise, and Pete armed himself and looked out the window. The attack was not targeted on them, however. Instead, a group ofArkkarredianswere closing in on several humans.

"Let's go and take a look, see if we can help," Pete reasoned.

"This isn't over," Patrick said.

"Didn't think it would be."

It was one of those intense battle scenes where the area was in total chaos. Bodies were scattered across the floor, portions of walls were blasted off, half of the lights had flickered out. Patrick had once again been forced into hiding, much to his displeasure. He wasn't totally useless. He knew how to fight.

So grabbing his gun, Patrick slipped out of the hallway and into the fight. Since the Arkkaredians relied heavily on their technology none of the saw Patrick coming; thanks to Pete and that thermo-deflector he made Patrick carry. He took down several aliens before anyone could blink. His mind could only conjure one thought: Pete.

The person in question was on the other side of the room battling three Arkkarrediansat a time. Patrick ran towards them, taking out anything he got a clear shot at. In his peripheral he could make out the red hair of the Killjoy from weeks ago. That couldn't be good.

He ducked just as a bolt of blue ricocheted off a desk and sped towards him. "Holy smokes."

When he was within range, Patrick hit one of Pete's attackers right on the head. Pete spun around to face him, leaving himself vulnerable. But Patrick took down the other two just as quickly as the first, crashing into Pete. The two toppled to the floor in an array of weapons and limbs. Their faces were inches apart; their legs tangled together tightly.

"I told you to stay hidden!" Pete snapped.

"Just shut up and kiss me."

Before this moment there had been next to no emotional exchange between the two, minus the confession Pete had made minutes before. He had been so apt on showing nothing except hate despite the fact that Patrick wasn't really to blame. He hadn't meant to say anything that could get them attached. So when Patrick let the words tumble out of his mouth he expected Pete to shove him away not pull him closer and smother him in a heart stopping kiss.

Everything seemed to stop in that moment, them forgetting they could be seconds away from death, but if they were to die what better way than this?

Their lips separated to the sound of silence. A single human was left standing and none of the Killjoys were in sight. Patrick blushed furiously and got to his feet, Pete following and pulling the younger to him.

"Thanks for the help," the tall, skinny man said. "I'm Dallon."

"And we're leaving. Go and get our stuff, Lunchbox," Pete snapped.