Infini (Aerial Ethereal #2)(105)

Sergei shifts his weight. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean it how you’re taking it, Timo.”

“How am I supposed to take it?”

“Realize that this could all be fine if you just got over it…” Sergei trails off again, starting to see that he’s making it worse.

Timo instinctively turns into John’s chest and tries to wrench his own wrist out of the cuff. He wants to leave.

“Babe, slow down. Stop, breathe for a second,” John says, his voice hardening in concern, and then he glares at Sergei. “Don’t put this all on him. He’s entitled to his own feelings. He can be upset at you.”

I don’t reach Timo. Katya does. She rushes to our brother and tries to help unlock the handcuff, bobby pin in her fingers.

“I’ll get you out. Don’t worry, Timo,” Kat says.

“It’s been months!” Sergei yells, his frustration palpable.

I spin my baseball cap backwards. I’m on edge, nervous that both Sergei and John will start swinging, and right now they’re literally attached to two people I love. They’re not accidentally pulling them to the floor because they forget their surroundings.

I’m not letting that happen.

They take one step closer, and I slip between Sergei and John, extending my arms. My palms touch their chests, and I force them apart.

John yells, “I didn’t realize agony had a fucking timeline!”

“He’s not in agony!” Sergei grimaces at the thought.

“Stop!” I shout at them, but it’s like no one hears me. I glance at Bay—her fearful eyes meet mine. I think she heard me, and she works faster, yanking at the cuff.

It’s still locked.

“Shit,” she says, but she tries to pick the lock again, still determined.

Sergei points at Timo with his free hand but yells at John, “He’s giving me no way to fix it! I can do nothing but watch him hate me! You know what this is?!”

I shake my head at Sergei. “Don’t go there, dude—”

“It’s life!” John sneers, eyes blistering on Sergei. “Welcome to the real world where every shitty thing we do affects other people!”

“It’s immature!” Sergei yells, and my chest collapses.

Timo is crying hearing what Sergei—the one person he wanted as a father figure—really thinks of him. Sergei doesn’t respect his feelings.

People always say that: get over it. Why? So they can feel better about the hurt they caused?

Everyone heals at different rates. Some people need time. It sucks. It’s frustrating, but our minds are more fragile than we like to believe.

(Than I like to believe.)

And I can’t remember the last time I saw Timo sob this hard. He usually contains it all until one unintentional moment, and Sergei just kicked open Timo’s floodgates.

Timo drops his scepter and covers his eyes with his free hand, and John points an antagonistic finger at Sergei. “Fuck you!”

“He’s my little brother!”

“And you’re hurting him!”

I shove them back as they wrestle closer. “STOP!” I yell.

Katya unlocks Timo’s handcuff, squeezes him in a hug, and then she bounds over to Baylee, switching out the safety pin for the bobby pin to help.

Timo lifts his watery eyes to me as I push both guys apart, and he looks past tears. Numb. His heavy gaze rises to the ceiling.

I wonder if he’s contemplating Sergei’s words.

If he’s questioning whether he’s the root of the problem. Immature. And just a pain to us all.

I shake my head. Timo is a good person. He means everything to me.

To so many people.

I tune out Sergei and John. I drop my hands, and I beeline for my brother. He sees, and at nearly the same time, our arms wrap around each other. Clutching tight.

His speeding heartbeat pounds against my chest, and we don’t let go.

Against his ear, I say, “I love you, Timo.”

I can practically feel him shutting his eyes, blocking out the world around us. Our chests rise and fall heavily at the same pace, and softly, I hear him mutter, “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Luk.”

I whisper strongly, “You’re living. That’s all we can do.” I don’t think there are any real answers. Timo is the one who talks about sucking the marrow out of life.

He’s the one who lives for every moment. I don’t want him to stop now because he’s questioning everything he is. His feelings. His hurt.

His maturity.

Timo is his own joy.

Isn’t that enough?

I feel his pulse slow, and as we ease our heads back, I worry a fistfight broke out around us. What I find is…something different.

John and Sergei stand side-by-side, cooled down. Watching us. Their eyes are bloodshot, reddened—but they never fought.

Never threw a punch.

They’re civil for Timo.

Baylee and Kat are still working on the handcuff. When Timo and I separate, John reaches his boyfriend and cups his cheeks, wiping his tears with his thumb. They whisper, John consoling Timo more, and I walk beyond them.

I pass Sergei, his nose flaring like he’s trying to suppress emotion, and his gaze lands on mine, full of apologies.

I nod at him, accepting.