Secret Things

by Andrews, Nazarea

  No one would know the years he had spent in Faerie.

  For years, no one would know.

  Until the day he met another boy, one just as strange and displaced.

  One he loved as much as he hated.

  Josef Grimm.

  --

  It's raining when I wake up, and it takes me about five minutes--just long enough to roll out of bed and pad down the hall--to realize that Camden has pulled a runner.

  I stand in the doorway to his office, staring at it for a long moment, trying to sort through this.

  Logically, I know that his running doesn't mean he's running from me. I know that it has more to do with the shit situation we're in. I know it. But seeing his office messy and the blanket dumped unceremoniously on the floor, all of it so haphazard and sudden, and it hurts.

  He's running, and I can't help but feel like he's running from me.

  Small arms wrap around my waist, and her chin digs into my shoulder, just a little. Enough that it doesn't feel pleasant, and it grounds me in the moment. Digs pain into me enough that I'm not wrapped up in my thoughts.

  "He isn't running from you," she murmurs in my ear.

  "He isn't just running from me." I correct, too tired to really argue, but too hurt to let it slide.

  I think the worst part is--I know this is my fault. All of it.

  Camden was outed because he kissed me. He kissed me because I was angry. I was angry because I let fucking Tristan Emery bait me.

  I should have known better. I did know better. And I let it happen anyway, and now we're dealing with a fucking shitstorm, and Camden is out and I can't take it back.

  That's the real kicker. I would. If I could. If I could go back to that night, I'd walk away from Emery when he sat down, and I'd never get pissed. I'd never get so wound up that the only way to calm me was Camden's lips and we'd never be put in this fucking situation.

  I don't want to hide. I love him more than is healthy, so much that it hurts to breathe, and I don't want to hide that.

  But I want to hurt him less. And right now, he's hurting badly enough that he ran.

  "I fucked up," I whisper, and Cari hums against my shoulder, silently agreeing.

  "Come on, babe. Sulking won't fix it. Get ready and we'll go find his mopey ass on set."

  She pats my shoulder, and I nod. But it still takes me too long to make myself move.

  I’ve showered and dressed and Cari is feeding the dogs when I get the phone call from Alyssa. I nudge Cari toward the door and lock it behind us. Andre frowns when he doesn’t see Camden, and I have a second to worry before she’s snapping in my ear. "You knew the stalker? For fuck's sake, Dimitri, you didn't think that was information I could use, I don't know, weeks ago. When you first realized it. I had to find this shit out from fucking Victor, and he didn't realize you hadn't told me."

  "It didn't occur to me, Aly. I wasn't trying to hide it."

  "I can't do my job," she says, her voice very even, "If you don't fucking help me out. I'm doing everything I can to keep the spotlight where it belongs and keep the fanbase happy with you. But you've got a stalker with too much fucking access chasing you, and you aren't telling me shit."

  "It was one event, on the other side of the country."

  "If Covenant used volunteers and the show didn't drag along their own staff. They do that and you fucking know it."

  I stay quiet. Alyssa found me and Victor in a bar in Nashville, and she changed our lives. She wasn't just my agent and manger. She was like a sister, a friend who was invested in me as a person instead of just what cut she'd get from my work.

  And I left her on the outside, let KP handle my shit, because I was distracted and didn't think better of it.

  I fucked up.

  Seems like I've been doing that a lot lately.

  "Dimitri, I want to keep you safe. But I need some help," she says. "and that means you're honest with me. Can you do that, babe?"

  I sigh. “Yeah, Aly. I’ll be honest and communicative and shit.”

  “Good. Victor will be there around lunch. Try to play nice?”

  “When am I ever mean to Vic?” I ask, baffled, and at my side, Cari giggles.

  I elbow her into silence, and hang up before my agent or costar can start pointing out how often I was actually really mean to my ex.

  It wasn’t like I really meant to be mean. It just sorta became how we treated each other. And it wasn’t something that actually meant anything. Being mean to Victor was how I said I love you. I miss you.

  He knew that.

  And maybe that made us dysfunctional.

  I was under no illusions that we were healthy, especially there at the end.

  Victor and Jace arrive on set at lunch, about an hour before I’m due to makeup. Cari has been tugged away by wardrobe and I’m alone in my trailer when Jeb ushers them into my trailer. I blink at my ex and the band member that I once fucked.

  That’s when I lost Victor. And it wasn’t Jace’s fault. It was mine and Victor’s. We drifted too far apart, quit trying so hard to make us work.

  Relationships are hard. Somewhere along the way, I quit remembering that, and quit trying.

  And so did he.

  Vic hesitates for a heartbeat, in the doorway, Jace almost pressed against him, and I smile, warm and welcoming. “Come in, guys.”

  Vic moves in my trailer like it’s comfortable to him. Like the space he’s occupying is his and I suppose that’s not unfair.

  Jace’s fingers play nervously with a cigarette, and Vic whistles, catching his attention. “Not in here,” he chides and hands me a cup of tea.

  “How long?”

  “How long did you fuck Jace before we broke up?” I ask, my voice remarkably even. Because I’m not mad about it, not anymore. But it still stings. I think it’ll always sting, a little.

  Victor flushes, but he holds my gaze.

  Gotta give the man props for that.

  “Have you thought anymore about who it could be?” I ask, and Victor shrugs.

  “You remember high school. Everyone knew me. I don’t remember everyone,” Vic shrugs. “And I forgot most of them after I met you, babe.”

  Jace shifts at the endearment and I give Vic a sharp stare.

  He makes a little face, almost apologetic.

  “It’s about me being with you.”

  “Do you think it’ll escalate now that you and Camden are public?”

  I shrug. I don’t tell him about the increase of hateful posts on EndersHallow. I don’t tell him about the emails that are filling up my account and inundating Small Things. I don’t tell him about the scratched out pictures of me and Camden that I found in my trailer yesterday.

  The pictures I haven’t told anyone about, because I don’t want to consider what that means.

  It’s already escalating and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

  The door to my trailer flaps open, and Cari darts in. Her eyes are wide and scared, as she looks around and comes to an abrupt halt.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” she says, staring at ex.

  “He’s here to help. We need to figure out who the stalker is,” I say, soothingly. It seems to snap her back to herself, and she shakes her head. “We’ve got a bigger problem, Dimitri.”

  I sit up a little, and Jace presses himself closer to Victor’s side.

  “Camden is missing,” she says abruptly, and even knowing that whatever she was going to say was going to be bad, it wasn’t this. I wasn’t ready for this.

  “He isn’t on set, and his call time was an hour ago. He isn’t answering his phone.”

  “We knew he ran this morning,” I say, forcing my voice to remain light and even.

  “We thought then that he went with Jeb. And even if he ran, there’s no way he’d blow off filming.”

  True.

  Which means.

  Something is wrong.

  She’s staring at me, eyes wide and blue and scared and I don’t hav
e anything to offer her. I can’t reassure her. Because if Camden is really missing….

  I’m just as terrified as she is.

  They shut down the set.

  It takes exactly twenty minutes from the time Cari bursts into my trailer until Evans Hurtz knocks and enters.

  I like Evans. I like the story he has to tell and I like the man himself, the way he puts himself into his story and invests in his actors. But the guy is my boss, and it’s weird as hell to see him in my trailer.

  “I take it you haven’t seen him?” he asks, nodding at Cari. I shake my head.

  “He was in the house last night,” Cari says. “But he wasn’t there when we got up.”

  Evans chews his lip, and rubs a hand over his head. “Okay. We’re shutting down the set and searching it. Andre is going to your house to check it—Dimitri, your house, too. Give up the keys.”

  Victor tosses them over to Evans and he nods. “You need to stay here.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. Vic makes a low noise in his throat but I ignore him. “Evans, no. I want to look for him.”

  “He’s fine, Dimitri. But you---”

  “You don’t know that,” I snarl.

  “I don’t. But I do know I can’t have you chase him into danger. It fixes nothing, man.”

  I want to argue. But…

  “He’d want you safe, Dee,” Cari whispers and that’s a low fucking blow.

  Something like pity flashes in Evans’ eyes before he says again. “Stay put for fuck’s sake,” and leaves us there.

  Cari won’t look at me. I don’t blame her. I’m angry enough that I want to yell at someone, and after throwing her support behind Evans, I’m tempted to take it out on her.

  It wouldn’t be fair, but not a damn thing about this is fair.

  My trailer is smaller than Cam’s, but it’s still big enough that there’s a separate bedroom, and I retreat there now. I don’t want to be around people. I don’t want to watch Carissa and her big eyes and worry, and I don’t want the awkward sympathy of Jace.

  I want Camden, here, safe, wrapped around me, and fuck the rest of the world.

  Vic taps on my door, and pushes in without waiting for the invitation I wasn’t going to give.

  “Dude, hiding isn’t going to make him come home faster.”

  “I’m not fucking hiding.”

  He gives me a flat stare and I glare back. “I’m sorry, Vic, did you miss the part where my fucking boyfriend is missing and there’s a goddamned stalker dropping pictures in my damn trailer?”

  Victor frowns. “You haven’t mentioned that.”

  Shit.

  “It wasn’t relevant,” I say tightly.

  “Your stalker has access to set and your fucking trailer, and you think it wasn’t fucking relevant. Dude, are you trying to get hurt?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I snap. “Because they decided to hurt Camden, not me.”

  “Don’t do that,” he snaps. “Don’t blame yourself for this.”

  I forget, sometimes, that Victor has known me more than half my life. That he can still read me like a fucking book.

  “Dee, he’s coming home. And he’s going to be fine, and you two will get through this.” He says, his voice soft and sure. Comforting in the way only something old and familiar and steady can be.

  “Why are you here, Vic? Why are you—dude, you should be pissed.”

  He laughs. “I am? But I’m also tired of being mad at you.” He shrugs. “I can’t remember a time when you weren’t a big fucking part of my life, Dee. And just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean I want to lose you.”

  I make a noise and he drops on the bed, tugging me into a hug that is safe and familiar and still wrong because it’s not Cam.

  “Shh, honey,” he hums, petting over my hair. “He’s coming home.”

  “I love him,” I whisper the confession into his chest and Victor rumbles an assent.

  “I know you do, Dee.”

  I don’t know how long I sit there, huddled on my bed, after Vic retreats. I know it’s long enough that the sun is sinking through my blinds and I have to piss and I’m starving.

  And still, there’s no word on Camden.

  So when the knock comes, I almost run to it.

  A PA is standing there.

  She gives me a tight smile, worry gleaming in her eyes. “Dinner is being served in your trailer tonight,” she announces brightly, pushing the door open and carrying in a big bag with Styrofoam packages in. I step aside, too tired to argue, and hunch on the floor near Cari’s feet, letting her play with my hair as the PA busies herself unpacking the food.

  Victor steps out of the back of the trailer, and a big smile tilts up his lips. “Stevie?”

  The PA freezes, her hands fumbling the dinners before she rights them. Slowly lowers them to the table and swivels to smile at Victor. “Hi, Vic,” she says.

  I watch, kind of numb while he hugs her and they talk while she shifts those damn dinners around.

  I wonder if she actually thinks I’ll eat. If anyone thinks I can. Cari’s fingers dig into my hair and I lean further into her knee and Stevie’s gaze flicks over us for a heartbeat.

  “Can I get you anything else?” she asks, concern lacing her tone.

  I summon a smile and shake my head.

  “Evans,” Cari says. “I’d like to see him.”

  Stevie nods once. “I’ll pass along the message.”

  And then she’s gone and all I can smell is that food, nauseatingly thick.

  “Victor,” Cari says and I tense.

  Years of knowing her, of knowing her tells, recognizes that tone and it sets me on edge.

  “Who was that?” she asks, false sugar and sweetness in her voice as she shifts. I grumble but slip away enough that she can stand.

  “Stevie? We went to school together.” He glances at me. “You remember Stevie Romines?”

  I sit up slowly, and Cari looks back at me.

  “Shit,” Jace whispers.

  “Call Evans. Call him now.”

  Chapter 22.

  Enders Editorials. Originally posted by @GimleyBeliever87

  I know a lot of the fans are upset that Cam and Cari broke up, and I just gotta say. I’m kinda happy? Wait stop. Just stop.

  Look at the pics from the Gala, before The Kiss. Cam and Dee got there together, and they were happy.

  Cari joined them, and they were happy.

  They stood together and they were happy.

  Cam supported Cari and Dee and Small Things. Dee hung out with Cari’s brother. Cari danced with Cam. They were all happy. But the way Cam and Dee were with each other, the way even their costumes matched and put Cari on the slight outside—it makes me think she knew.

  And still. They were happy.

  I know we love Cariden. But don’t we want them to be happy, first?

  --

  I wake up with a vicious quickness that makes my stomach heave and for a few seconds, as the room swims and my stomach twists, all unpleasant nausea. I swallow hard, shoving down the urge to vomit. I can feel the burn of bile in my throat, and the room is too bright, making my head spin.

  I fight the urge until it fades, and the pounding in my head recedes just enough that I can think.

  It occurs to me, with almost frightening swiftness, that I have no fucking clue where I am.

  The room I’m in is almost blinding in its whiteness, with a flat, untouched quality that reminds me of a new apartment.

  It tells me nothing, but I know two things impossibly fast. This is not where I was when I fell asleep. And I am unable to move.

  There's a cuff around my wrist, locking me to the bed where I'm sprawled. I'm not naked, which is fucking relieving as hell, but my side aches, my mouth is dry and my head pounds so hard that I'm still not entirely sure I won't throw up before this is through.

  But all of that fades away under the terrifying realization that I have no idea where I am and neither does anyone else.<
br />
  I left the house without a bodyguard and without letting Dee or Cari know where I was going.

  Which was... fucking stupid.

  I wonder how scared they are right now. If they even know I'm missing. The window is wide and open, staring out on a thick forest.

  Which tells me exactly nothing.

  I'm literally chained to a fucking bed, and all I'm worried about is how the hell Dee is going to handle this.

  "I am so fucked," I whisper.

  My side throbs as I shift to a slight more comfortable position. There’s going to be a bitch of a bruise there, I can feel it already.

  “You’re awake.”

  Her voice is smooth and pert, eager and pleased, and fucking familiar.

  The damn PA.

  I probably should have paid more attention to them. It wasn’t that I didn’t pay attention. It’s that I’ve been distracted.

  Gotta admit. She’s got my full attention right now. She’s standing in the doorway, a bright smile on her lips, in jeans and a tank top, with an open flannel over it, and boots. She looks like she just stepped off our set, or she’s headed there.

  “Where am I?”

  A tiny frown curls at the corner of her eyes. “Do you really think I’m going to tell you that?”

  “Do you wanna tell me why the fuck you’re doing this?” I ask, a little bite bleeding into my tone despite my best intentions.

  The frown vanishes and she grins. “You’ve been hanging out with Dee too much. You’re even starting to talk like him. This is good.” She nods, a little manic and I blink at her.

  “What is?” I demand.

  She waves a hand vaguely. Encompassing the whole fucking room, and me with it. “This. You being here. It’ll be good for you to be away from Dee.” Her eyes go hard and cold, so quickly it’s almost scary. “And he needs to remember where the hell he belongs.”

  “What are you talking about?” I snap, angry, tired and fucking confused.

  She frowns, this tiny pretty thing. “I’m talking about Dee forgetting that he belongs with Victor. He needs a little distance from you to remember what his fucking priorities are.”