Then I pause on a message Tess had left me earlier in the afternoon. Her voice fills my ears, full of warmth and playfulness.
“Hey. Check the news.”
That’s all she says. I frown, then laugh a little at Tess’s game. What’s going on in the news? My eyes return to the screens, this time with more curiosity. None of it catches my eye. I keep searching, looking for what Tess might have been talking about. Still nothing. Then . . . one small, nondescript headline, so brief that I must have been skipping over it all day. I blink, as if I might have misunderstood it, and read it again before it cycles out.
EDEN BATAAR WING IN LOS ANGELES TO INTERVIEW FOR BATALLA ENGINEERING POSITION
Eden? A ripple glides across the silence that has stilled me all day. I read the headline over and over again before I finally convince myself that they are indeed talking about Day’s younger brother. Eden is here to interview for a potential job.
He and Day are in town.
I look around the streets instinctively. They’re here, walking the same streets. He’s here. I shake my head at the little adolescent girl who has suddenly woken up in my heart. Even after all this time, I hope. Calm down, June. But still, my heart sits in my throat. Tess’s message echoes in my mind. I return to walking down the street. Maybe I can find out where they’re staying, just get a glimpse of how he’s doing after all this time. I decide to call Tess back once I’ve reached the train station.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m at the outskirts of Batalla sector; the train station leading to Ruby appears around the corner. The darkness has lengthened enough for the streetlights to turn on, and a few soldiers are heading down the opposite sidewalk; aside from them, I’m the only one on this block.
But when I reach a slight curve in the street, I see two other people headed in my direction. I stop in my tracks. Then I frown and peer closer at the street before me. I’m still not sure of what I’m seeing.
A pair of young men. Details flit automatically through my mind, so familiar now that I hardly think twice about them. Both are tall and lean, with pale blond hair that stands out in the dimly lit night. Instantly I know that they must be related, with their similar features and easy gaits. The one on the left wears glasses and is talking animatedly, brushing golden curls out of his eyes as he goes, his hands painting some sort of diagram in front of him. He keeps rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows, and his collar shirt is loose and rumpled. A carefree smile lights up his face.
The young man on the right seems more reserved, listening patiently to his curly-haired companion while he keeps his hands tucked casually in his pockets. A small grin touches the corners of his lips. His hair is different from what I remember, now short and endearingly unruly, and as he walks he occasionally runs a hand through it, leaving it even more wayward. His eyes are as blue as ever. Even though he’s older now, with the face of a young man instead of the teenager I’d known so well, he still shows hints of that old fire whenever he laughs at his brother’s words, moments of startling brightness and life.
My heart begins to beat, cutting through the heaviness that weighs on my chest. Day and Eden.
I keep my head down as they draw closer. But from the corner of my vision, I see Eden notice me first. He pauses for a second in the middle of his sentence, and a quick smile appears on his face. His eyes flicker to his brother.
Day casts me a look.
The intensity of it catches me off guard—I haven’t been subjected to his gaze in so long that suddenly I can’t catch my breath. I straighten and quicken my pace. I need to get out of here. Otherwise, I’m not sure whether I can keep my emotions from spilling onto my face.
We pass each other without a word. My lungs feel like they might burst, and I take a few quick breaths to steady myself. I close my eyes. All I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, the steady thumping of my heart. Gradually I hear the sound of their footsteps fade behind me. A sinking feeling slowly settles. I swallow hard, forcing a flood of memories out of my mind.
I’m heading toward the train station. I’m going home. I’m not going to look back.
I can’t.
Then . . . I hear footsteps behind me again. Hurried boots against pavement. I pause, steel myself, and look over my shoulder.
It’s Day. He catches up to me. Some distance behind him, Eden waits with his hands in his pockets. Day stares into my eyes with a soft, puzzled expression—it sends an electric shiver down my spine. “Excuse me,” he says. Oh, that voice. Deeper, gentler than I remember, without the rawness of childhood and with the new elegance of an adult. “Have we met before?”
For a moment, I’m at a loss for words. What do I say? I’ve spent so many years convincing myself that we no longer know each other. “No,” I whisper. “Sorry.” In my mind, I beg myself to tell him otherwise.
Day frowns, confused for a moment. He runs his hand through his hair. In that gesture, I catch a glimpse of something shiny on his finger. It’s a ring made out of wires. Of paper clips. A breath escapes me in shock.
He is still wearing the paper clip ring I’d once given him.
“Oh,” he finally replies. “I’m sorry to bother you, then. I just . . . You look really familiar. Are you sure we don’t know each other from somewhere?”
I search his eyes in silence. I can’t say anything. There is a secret emotion emerging on his face now, somewhere between strangeness and familiarity, something that tells me he’s struggling to place me, to find where I belong. My heart protests, reaching out for him to discover it. Still, no words come out.
Day searches my face with his soft gaze. Then he shakes his head. “I have known you,” he murmurs. “A long time ago. I don’t know where, but I think I know why.”
“Why, then?” I ask gently.
He’s quiet for a moment. Then he takes a step closer, close enough for me to see that tiny ripple of imperfection in his left eye. He laughs a little, pink creeping onto his cheeks. “I’m sorry. This is going to sound so strange.” I feel like I’m lost in a haze. Like this is a dream I don’t dare wake from. “I . . . ,” he begins, as if looking for the right words. “I’ve been searching a long time for something I think I lost.”
Something he lost. The words bring a lump to my throat, a sudden surge of wild hope. “It’s not strange at all,” I hear myself reply.
Day smiles in return. Something sweet and yearning appears in his eyes. “I felt like I found something when I saw you back there. Are you sure . . . do you know me? Do I know you?”
I don’t know what to say. The part of me that had once decided to step out of his life tells me to do it again, to protect him from this knowledge that had hurt him so long ago. Ten years . . . has it really been that long? The other part of me, the girl who had first met him on the streets, urges me to tell him the truth. Finally, when I do manage to open my mouth, I say, “I have to go meet up with some friends.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Day clears his throat, unsure of himself. “I do too, actually. An old friend down in Ruby.”
An old friend down in Ruby. My eyes widen. Suddenly I know why Tess sounded so mischievous on her message, why she told me to watch the news tonight. “Is your friend’s name Tess?” I ask hesitantly.
It’s Day’s turn to look surprised. He gives me an intrigued, puzzled smile. “You know her.”
What am I doing? What’s happening? This really is all a dream, and I’m terrified to wake up from it. I’ve had this dream too many times. I don’t want it taken away again. “Yes,” I murmur. “I’m having dinner with her tonight.”
We stare at each other in silence. Day’s face is serious now, and his gaze is so intense that I can feel warmth running through every inch of my body. We stand together like this for a long, long moment, and for once, I have no idea how much time has passed. “I do remember,” he finally says. I search his eyes for that same aching sadness, the torment and anguish that had always been there whenever we were together. But I can no longer see it. Instead, I find something else . . . I see a healed wound, a permanent scar that has nevertheless closed, something from a chapter of his life that he has finally, after all these years, made peace with. I see . . . Can it be possible? Can this be true?
I see pieces of memories in his eyes. Pieces of us. They are broken, and scattered, but they are there, gradually coming together again at the sight of me. They are there.
“It’s you,” he whispers. There is wonder in his voice.
“Is it?” I whisper back, my voice trembling with all the emotions I’ve kept hidden for so long.
Day is so close, and his eyes are so bright. “I hope,” he replies softly, “to get to know you again. If you are open to it. There is a fog around you that I would like to clear away.”
His scars will never fade. I am certain of that much. But perhaps . . . perhaps . . . with time, with age, we can be friends again. We can heal. Perhaps we can return to that same place we once stood, when we were both young and innocent. Perhaps we really can meet like other people do, on some street one balmy evening, where we each catch the other’s eye and stop to introduce ourselves. Echoes of Day’s old wish come back to me now, emerging from the mist of our early days.
Perhaps there is such a thing as fate.
Still I wait, too unsure of myself to answer. I cannot take the first step. I shouldn’t. That step belongs to him.
For a moment, I think it won’t happen.
Then Day reaches out and touches my hand with his. He encloses it in a handshake. And just like that, I am linked with him again, I feel the pulse of our bond and history and love through our hands, like a wave of magic, the return of a long-lost friend. Of something meant to be. The feeling brings tears to my eyes. Perhaps we can take a step forward together.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Daniel.”
“Hi,” I reply. “I’m June.”
