by Li Hill
"Ha. Sure, why not."
"Do you guys care if I bounce?" Tom said abruptly. "I'm just really tired." Idle chatter could only entertain Tom so long when he couldn't fixate on anything but Iilo and the embarrassment he felt. He'd slipped away, lost himself in his nightmares and Iilo had to see it all. Tom would eat his own fingers off it could change what happened at the settlement.
Caleb dropped his burger and stood up. "You need someone to walk you to your car?" It was kind, but the gesture only did more to annoy Tom than make him happy. He didn't want to be fragile. He didn't want to be something he feared being around I'na or Iilo. He just wanted to be. It'd been so easy to just snap and go away.
"I'm good, man. Thanks though." He left, his heart heavy and fingers anxious. He needed to see Iilo and find a way to make this better.
*~*~*
It was night when Tom parked his car half a mile from the I'na settlement. He walked the rest of the way in the trees. He poked his head out from above a bush, making sure there weren't any I'na to run and tell the Elect that he was violating their new agreement about approved humans. He thought the Elect would want the FBI involved. With them here, a full investigation could finally happen. If they wanted the disappearances to keep happening, that was a different story.
Tom sleuthed behind the spires, careful to avoid windows and children outside. When he got to Iilo's door, he didn't even get to knock before it flew open and Iilo stood there, in a cooking apron and speckled with flour. Iilo pulled Tom in by the collar and helped shove the door closed.
"You're baking?" Tom asked.
"I'm baking. Come in." Iilo headed toward the kitchen. "And you're like a fugitive now."
Tom flicked up his eyebrows. He was a fugitive now, only if the Elect caught him. He followed Iilo to the kitchen, his joints stiff and palms sweaty. He'd been out of the army way too long to run as fast as he just did. But it was now or never. He felt like a balloon, growing and growing. He'd burst if he held it in any longer. "I just—"
"I wanted to bake something for Carlos and Sam. They've been so supportive. I just feel so bad for what happened with the Elect. I don't think Carlos is far off about them being bought, but I don't know. I think they really are just scared. Like they're avoiding it. Or maybe trying to find somehow to protect us." Iilo moved about the brown kitchen, opening rusted drawers and pulling out wooden spoons. He had a cake all ready to go and cooling in the corner by the window.
Tom didn't come here to talk about the kidnappings, but ignoring them was rude. His feelings could wait. He hopped up on the wooden counter in the kitchen, letting his feet dangle over the dish washer. "Maybe. Or maybe they're no better than some of our politicians."
"Parker appreciated the tip about the Atlanta and Cincinnati settlements. He's sent people to both places." Iilo beat a few eggs into a soupy mixture.
"That's a huge deal." Tom just hoped no one died because of this. Involving the FBI was the fastest way to get the case on someone's radar, but pissing off the guy behind the disappearances could mean getting people hurt. If Iilo was right about the Elect and they were just scared, this could blow up in their faces. Tom didn't want to kill more I'na, even if it wasn't his hand that did it. His actions had led them here.
"Do you think Sam likes chocolate? I made one, but then I got nervous and thought vanilla was better. Honestly, I've never had either, so I don't know which is best."
"Sam loves chocolate. Vanilla is just as delicious, but we need to talk."
"Why?" Iilo backed up to the counter, his grip now on it instead of the spoon.
"B-because"—Tom looked away, his heart stammering—"I need to tell you something. But after what happened, maybe I shouldn't."
Iilo offered nothing but a deadpan expression.
Tom rubbed his hands along his jeans. He felt like he was in high school asking his first date out all over again. The excitement inside him, it sizzled like electricity and he wasn't sure if he'd vomit or laugh.
"I think we've been dancing around this for some time," he sighed, "and if I don't say anything now, I'll never say it. And I don't know if you'll ever say it. I don't even know if you think the same way."
"Tom. Just spit it out." Iilo had moved closer. Tom hadn't realized when Iilo moved closer.
Fuck, his heart was racing so fast that it hurt.
"I—I like you. More than just friends. It's probably inappropriate, so if you want me to go—" Tom jumped from the counter and prepared to walk out of Iilo's life. He felt foolish. It weighed against him, slippery and cold. Nothing about this made him feel better. Confessing didn't bring peace. It just caused his nerves to rile up in anticipation.
"Wait."
He froze.
"You haven't even let me say anything." Iilo put his hands on his hips, a crease between his brows. He looked comical, dusted with flour, holding a wooden spatula. "I like you too, you idiot."
"Idiot?"
"You just come in here, announce that, and think you get to walk away? Humans are so afraid of their feelings, it stresses me out!" He tugged on his hair, a sharp sigh at his lips. But his expression softened. He dropped the wooden spatula on the counter.
Tom's heart tried to explode with every step Iilo took toward him. But when Iilo stopped, he cupped Tom's face and smiled, and that took Tom's breath away.
"I like humans. Whether they like me or not is another thing, but I've always been fascinated since I learned you existed. You, Tom, you're kind and you've always believed in me. You stood by me when no one else would. And I believe in you too. Stop punishing yourself for being part of a war you couldn't stop." He leaned up on his toes and shyly pressed a kiss to Tom's lips.
Tom didn't move a muscle. He let Iilo's soft lips brush against his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed when Iilo's fingers wrapped around his neck. They were so close, he could feel Iilo's breath, his chest. They breathed the same air. What god, what power, had made sure they could breathe the same air?
"I'm not scared of you. You're hurting. I'm hurting too. Carlos and Sam? Caleb? Everyone's hurting." Iilo didn't step back. He swayed on his toes, but Tom could see the outright refusal in his eyes to move away.
Learning about Iilo and his family, getting to feel someone close to him, to kiss him. He'd missed it. He hadn't realized how touch starved he was until Iilo touched his face. But that didn't change the risk this was. Tom felt like a walking time bomb. A loud crack. A flash of orange in the dark. What if it was just a dancing I'na next time? Or someone moving quickly around him? He couldn't trust himself.
"Tom?" Iilo asked. "Is this okay?" Iilo's gaze dipped to Tom's mouth, his lips parting.
Tom's body shivered, awash with warmth and longing. He tumbled into it, his resolve long since crumbled away. There'd been so many that he'd pulled away from. From his father, family; even home. Always running. But he didn't want to run away. Not from Iilo. It was the first time he could breathe without glass tumbling in his chest. He was finished running.
"Yes," Tom said, breath and fight leaving him. His bones weighed him down, and he pressed his forehead to Iilo's. "But I don't want to hurt you."
Iilo tucked his bottom lip under his teeth, white against blue skin. "You won't hurt me if you just kiss me." It was the most selfish thing he'd ever said to Tom and Tom delighted in that. Iilo gave everything he had to everyone else. His time, his kindness, his patience. He kept a box full of I'na because no one else cared but him. He gave himself to them. To see him be selfish? It was hard for Tom to turn away from this. Not when he wanted this just as badly.
So they kissed. Mouths slow and curious. Tongues soft and hesitant.
Tom's stomach ached, but in the way it did when coming home after so long. Or seeing his father smile. It ached—good.
"Let's go slow," Iilo whispered against Tom's lips. "I'm not ready to give you up. You don't scare me."
"I should," Tom said. "I need to know I can trust myself around you. I don't know if that's something I can promise, b
ut I want to try. It's so easy to just jump right in and work out all the problems later, but that's not how this works. I don't want to live in the past anymore. And being here with you—it's helped so much. But it's not over. I'm still living through it all."
"I know. And I want to help you get over the past." Iilo grimaced. "We should go see Oori's family."
"Oori." Pins and needles cascaded down Tom's body, a barrel of them, plummeting into his skin and diving deep. Oori. The I'na he killed had a name. Oori.
"I need to tell you something about that night. About Oori." Iilo stepped back, his lithe arms clutching around his body.
Tom stayed silent, too afraid the needles would kill him if he moved.
"I was there with him. We were friends."
A roar echoed in Tom's ears. He shook his head to the side the way he'd get water out, but it didn't stop. Iilo saw it all. Tom had killed Oori in front of Iilo. Iilo had seen it all. Shame didn't cover it. Hate. Hatred. Tom hated himself. He'd not only been the monster in Oori's story, but he was the monster in Iilo's. He'd killed—he'd— "You watched me kill your friend."
Iilo closed his eyes, relinquishing, "I did."
Tom grabbed the counter, knuckles white. The laminate would crack before he could let go. Everything was seizing up inside him. His whole body trying to implode. "How can you even touch me?"
"I knew it was you when I first saw you in your office. I almost turned around." Iilo picked up the spoons in the sink to just let them fall again and clatter. "When I went to see you, you had this—look in your eyes. You were as scared of me as I was of you. You looked kind of—dead?"
"Cynical, depressed, and moderately fucked up, you mean?" The words tasted like ash. How could Iilo stomach touching Tom, let alone kiss him? His feet burned. He wanted to run. Always run.
Iilo laughed, a sharp, bitter thing. "You joke when you're uncomfortable."
Tom could feel the vein in his throat pulsing. "You're damn right I'm uncomfortable. I don't know how I could ever make that right to you. God—God, that poor kid. And I just—" Tom pushed his face into his hands. Guilt was a funny thing. It didn't just linger; it devoured. It started at the tips of toes and found its way into the hearts and minds of its victims. It took away everything the person had, and then when there was nothing but mere scraps left, it took more. Tom couldn't pick himself up. He couldn't look Iilo in the eye.
Iilo was too good. He'd known all along what Tom was, and he'd still asked him for help. Maybe it'd been necessary. Maybe Tom's immunity was rare: he could be the only one for all he knew. But Iilo had made a choice. A choice that was bigger than himself. Tom had tried to do the same once. He'd tried to dedicate his life to the service of others by serving in the army, then serving the community as an attorney. But he'd failed. He'd lost his way when bills got too deep. Nights got too scary. He'd holed himself up and run away from his own family because of the failures he'd racked up. He was a shell of a man. He didn't deserve Iilo's kindness. He didn't deserve a rock for a bed.
"You chose me over your own trauma," Tom said. "'Cause I'm immune?" A fact Tom had never tested before. He looked over to the knives in the corner, all stacked up in their proper places in the butcher's block.
"Honestly, I didn't come to you because I had plenty of options. I came to you because you were the only option. I knew what happened to Oori, and I wasn't sure if it was the right decision. Then I met you. And you supported me. You believed in me. I didn't expect that." Iilo took Tom's hand and gave it a little squeeze. "You're a whole person, Tom. And I like you for it—for your loyalty and your regret. You're a good person. I'm glad I got to know you." Tears welled up in his eyes, his expression cloudy. "But I need you to know. Oori was important to me. So I know how hard this will be for his family. I'm asking one more time. Are you sure you want this? I'll ask them if this is okay. I don't want to just bring you in there without telling them. But you're sure you want this?"
Taking the easy route wasn't an option. Tom knew if he ever wanted to move past First Contact, he needed to close this chapter in his life. Seeing the people who he'd taken Oori away from would be uncomfortable. It would hurt. Tom even expected cursing and sharp objects thrown his way. But he wouldn't change his mind. It'd been made up the second he'd asked Iilo for this exchange.
"I need to see them," he said.
Iilo sighed. He knew the outcome, but Tom needed to experience it for himself. He'd tried, Tom would forever be grateful that he'd tried to give Tom an out each step of the way, but now wasn't the time for fear anymore. Iilo's fear—Tom's—it was time it finally went to its rest. If Tom was going to ever trust himself with Iilo, this had to be done.
Iilo pressed his nose to Tom's neck, sniffling. Fingers clinging to Tom's shoulders. It felt warm and good to be blanketed in someone else's embrace. Tom's spine shook from the elation.
He gently pried Iilo from him. He didn't want to, he was a schoolboy with a crush and getting to explore Iilo was a journey he relished in. But Tom walked over to the knives.
"What're you doing?" Iilo's eyes were wide.
"When humans are little, they make promises to each other. And the blood pact is the strongest one of them all."
"A blood pact?" Iilo blinked, his eyes flickering back and forth from Tom's face to the knives.
Tom took the knife and poked his thumb with it. The bite from the blade wasn't enough to make him wince, but he did grit his teeth.
"We touch blood together and make a promise. It's the strongest promise anyone can make." He smiled, remembering the years of blood pacts with Emily. He'd never broken a single one of them. While the truth of it about being the strongest promise was debatable, that wasn't the point. He wanted to prove to Iilo how much Iilo's trust and respect meant to him. He needed to show that trust back. If I'na blood could kill, Tom wanted to show that he knew he was immune, because Iilo told him he was. This was an act, pure and simple. An act of trust.
"Now you make a little cut too. If you want. I guess if you don't want to, I won't force you."
Iilo slit the knife over his thumb, swallowing the pain down.
They pressed their hands together. Tom's hand bigger, but his fingers were stubbier. Iilo had the hands of an artist, made for fluid motion and delicate detail.
"I promise you, Iilo," Tom said, staring Iilo in the eyes, "I'm going to work every day to get better so I never have to break like that in front of you again. But that needs to start with Oori."
Iilo bit his lip, eyes watering.
They kissed. Lips pressed flush together, chests breathing in unison. Perhaps it was too much too soon, but Tom feared what would happen when he met Oori's family.
For now, he savored this quiet moment, where the world and etiquette didn't matter.
*~*~*
Oori's family lived in one of the bulkier leftovers from the ships. Tom saw the nose of the cockpit, gutted and overfull of wires that sizzled the air around them. The ships had been so beautiful as they broke into the sky when they'd first arrived. Their beauty had been repurposed into practicality; the I'na knew suffereing, and so did their ships.
"She knows who I am, right?" Tom asked.
"I told her, yes."
Tom's stomach rolled. He knew he'd be nervous, sick even. "Thank you."
Time moved quicker than Tom expected. He was at the door. Someone opened it. He was inside. The room was brighter than Iilo's home. Natural light flooded in. There was a big sectional couch and a TV—holographic images floated around the room.
"M'twe," Iilo said, "this is Tom Raddoc. M'twe was a mother." It took Tom a moment to remember the I'na didn't speak of the dead. Iilo couldn't say Oori's name. "He has something to say to you, M'twe."
Iilo stood back, his hands behind his back. He pressed himself into the wall like he didn't want anyone to know he was there.
Tom didn't know where to begin. The woman before him was purple, her hair cropped short around her ears. She had thick gashes across her face and lips, l
ike someone had mauled her. Eyes red and intense as they peered into Tom, already braced for something to come.
This woman knew war.
"I'd give anything to go back and change it."
M'twe's lip quivered.
"I've never regretting anything more in my life." He'd thought about this day night after night, running lines, picturing outcomes. Now with it here, he couldn't find the words to say he'd taken away her child. She'd been kind to allow him into her home for whatever her reason was.
M'twe stepped back, staring at Tom with burning red eyes. Eyes the color of blood. Of pain.
Tom knew it took incredible strength for her to hear his words. Maybe he didn't deserve to say them. Bringing up her lost son only revived the memories. Tom opened her wounds again. He'd thought it would help them, but now all he did was drown in more guilt. He knew her face now.
"I can't be a good person if I don't accept consequences for my actions. I don't expect your forgiveness. I don't know what I expect. But if I can do anything to help you, I will. I promise."
M'twe put her hand over her mouth. Tears streamed from her eyes. She looked at Iilo and then back at Tom. There was no anger in her eyes, anguish yes, but no hatred. She didn't appear to be someone who wanted revenge, just answers.
"He would kill you where you stand," M'twe said. She heaved in a deep breath and even chuckled.
Tom nodded. He didn't feel better. He didn't feel worse. He'd been devoured for too long by his longing to know the I'na he'd killed. Sonder. A harsh mother with a harsh voice. His own mother would've liked her.
"I'd deserve it," Tom said.
M'twe bit her finger before yanking it back out and pressing it to her chest. She shook her head, her lips pressed hard together. "He was brash," she finally said. "A loyal friend." Her gaze trailed to Iilo.
Tom watched as Iilo wrapped his arms around his middle. There was so much history that Tom didn't know about Iilo, about the I'na. Tom hadn't just killed someone out in that Louisianna humidity. He'd broken Iilo's heart when he'd taken away his friend. There'd be no coming back from what he'd done. Oori was the only face he saw when he took an I'na's life. But he'd killed others. How many friends had he hurt too?