Falling Skies

Nine

"Busted." Abrahm jokes, shutting the door of the office to avoid bringing attention to the situation. "Now mind telling us what you're stealing there?" He casually points to the files that Ryder only grips tighter, his chest rising and falling at an alarming rate as he surveys the room for an opening to run.

Somehow the motion invokes the soft spot that December has always held for his cousin, his gaze softening as he steps between the two. Gingerly, he pulls the files from Ryder's shaky grasp and sets them down on the glass desk with the rest of the compromised files.

"Ryder," He nearly whispers, eyes running over the open pages on the desk. The sketches of dissected brains are accompanied by chicken scratch notes and a few pictures of the dissected slimy creatures that made up a majority of the delivery. "Ryder, what is this all about?"

"I-"

Before he can answer, Abrahm is grabbing at the journal in his hand, the boy unable to reclaim it before it's being opened and flipped through. Abrahm thumps each page before landing on one he deems adequate and holds it out for December to examine.

"He's stealing evidence." Abrahm scoffs, the same sketches that had appeared in the files recreated on the pages of his journal. "You know this is a crime right? That you're compromising the work of this facility by doing this? Who knows what evidence you could've destroyed, or how long you've been doing this." He thumbs through the pages again, flipping through each so quickly that the edges seem to smoke before he slams the book closed, throwing it into Ryder's chest so violently that the boy stumbles backwards.

"I didn't steal any of your precious evidence, okay?" The eye roll practically drips off his tongue before he's bending to pick up his journal, shoving it into his leather bag to avoid its ultimate destruction. "I just wanted to see some of the sketches is all, you have your way of doing things and I have mine."

"Ho-"

"Give us a minute?" December steps in, pushing a heated Abrahm out of the door and facing Ryder who has taken a seat at the glass table, the chair giving off an audible creak as he presses his full weight onto its backing.

"I wasn't stealing your evidence."

"Then what exactly do you call this?" December gestures around them with a sigh before leaning over the glass table that separates the cousins. His elbow rests on the glass while his forefinger and thumb work to squeeze away the headache inching itself onto him.

The boy rocks back in his seat, shuffling the papers into an orderly fashion as a distraction from the disapproving glare ahead of him. "I call this copying a few sketches of a brain, it's not anything to call the guards over. You're both overreacting, it's a sketch not government secrets."

"Actually these are government secrets if we're going to be specific." With this Ryder lets out a laugh, a short, bark like noise that's quick and to the point. Yet the sound still forces a smile onto December's lips as he falls into the white couch and sinks into the fabric, Ryder swiveling in his chair to face him. "But more importantly is why?" December asks, leaning onto his knees for support. "Why sneak into my bedroom? Into my office? Isn't this a lot of effort for a few sketc-" It isn't about the sketches... The thought hits him with the force of a ton of bricks, his body falling back into the couch almost stunned as he connects two and two, a shame threatening to veil him at the fact he didn't make the connection sooner. "This is about Wren. It's about Wren and it's about you."

Though Ryder doesn't answer his expression gives him away, a deadly mix of guilt and shame rising to the surface of his skin in the form of a blush screaming to be freed. He ducks his head but recovers it with a quick swipe through his hair, the strands standing on edge as he awaits the rest of the accusation.