The sight of Connor's name on the screen of his phone is the only thing that stops Kyle from running. His breath is steaming on this dark and cold night, but sweat is already trickling down his brow. He knows he still has a few miles to go, though he’s already exhausted.

Damn. Fucking. Cigarettes, he thinks to himself as he leans against the back wall of a narrow alley that stinks like piss and struggles to regain control of his frantic breathing.

His hair is damp with sweat, and his chest is so tight that he feels he can’t squeeze another breath in. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He shouts to the sky as he raises his head to look at the narrow patch of sky visible between the alley's narrow walls. Pull yourself together. You can't lose it. Not now.

He takes a deep breath, swallows hard, and looks down at his phone; the screen’s the only source of light in the alley, and the bright light dazzles him. He squints his eyes, and it takes a few seconds for his vision to clear up enough for him to clearly see the screen.

Two missed calls from Connor.

As he tightens his grip on his phone, his body shivers. He's not sure if it's from the cold of the night or the guilt that's starting to gnaw its way up his gut and into his chest, like toxic rats, leaving only blood and decay in their wake. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he sighs a shaky breath. "I know you're confused and scared, but I promise I'll explain everything."

He runs his thumb over the screen, and for a split second, he considers picking up the phone and calling Connor, but he shakes his head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it entered his mind. It's too risky to pick up the phone right now. He waited so long, he can wait another hour.

Kyle throws a glance behind him; the sound of footsteps on the main street reminds him he needs to keep moving. I'll tell Connor everything later, when I'm safe and out of harm's way in another city or another country, He thinks to himself.

He takes another deep breath, which does nothing to relieve the knots in his chest, and starts walking toward the train station. He tries to sort out his thoughts as he walks, but whenever he tries to put some sort of order in the series of events that went so wrong and brought him to this point, he feels his anxiety overflowing like a glass full of water, placed on the edge of a rickety table.

What have I done? Why do I always ruin everything? A wave of guilt washes over him with each step, making it impossible for him to concentrate on anything else.

Can he start over? Can they start over?

Will Connor forgive him? Will they meet again? And laugh again? And hug? And love and touch again? 

Kyle glances at his phone screen once more before slipping it back into his black hoodie pocket, as if seeing Connor's name brings him some solace. Or strength. He begins jogging as he moves from ally to ally, avoiding the main streets and roads.

“The train station,” he mutters to himself. “I need to get to the train station and I'm out of here.”

Where exactly? He didn’t know.

Maybe somewhere near the beach? Connor will love that. He would love to spend his nights on the beach, building campfires and waking up to the sound of waves. He would love that.

He ran and ran and ran.

His neck is coating in salty droplets of sweat and his legs tremble from exertion, signalling him he needs to stop again before they completely give out and he has to crawl to the train station. He puts one hand on the wall of another stinky alley, leans over and coughs so violently that it makes him heave. His stomach contracts and contracts, trying to empty itself, but nothing comes out.

“Damn it,” He chokes while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

For a brief moment, he allows himself to fall apart. He crouches down and leans against the brick wall, cradling his head in his hands and gently tugging at his damp hair. A sob escapes his throat, and he quickly covers his mouth and nose with his hand, strangling it. After a few long breaths, he rises to his feet and starts walking again. 

He can't stop, not now. Not when he’s so close. Just another turn, another dark alley, a few more miles and he’s out of this damn city. He can feel it, freedom, at the tips of his fingers.

And after that… Connor will join him, and they’ll wake up every morning to the smell of salt in the air and the sound of waves. Together. He will forgive him. He will forgive him for leaving. They love each other. They love, and that’s all that matters.

He ran and ran and ran.

He comes to a halt when he finally sees the light of the train station, and the relief he feels is so overwhelming that it almost makes him heave again. Although his chest burns and his legs ache, he wants to jump with joy, to swirl around and dance. He lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding as a smile that he can't control spreads across his face.

He can see freedom. Feel freedom.

“I fucking made it!” he chuckles and runs his hand through his wet hair. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, and racing toward the station in black pants and a hoodie would certainly make him look suspicious, so he fixes his clothes and wipes the sweat from his face and the back of his neck as best as he can when suddenly, his phone rings again.

Connor.

He shouldn’t answer him, he knows that. But he's so close to the station, and he's so happy, that hearing his voice would give him the mental strength he needs to keep going. The energy he so desperately needs, and before he can make a rational decision, his hands move faster than his brain, and he accepts the call.

“Connor!” he answers, and he can hear the glee in his voice. “I'm so sorry. I know you’re confused, but I can explain everything. I will explain everything when I see you, I promise.”

No reply.

“Connor? Please... say something.”

The first thing that struck Kyle was the foul chuckle coming from the other end of the line.

Evil, vicious laugh.

He froze. Panic surges through him like tiny razor blades ripping him apart from the inside out, cutting their way from his gut to his chest, up to his throat, making him choke on his own blood. 

“Stop running and come back if you want to see your boyfriend again.”

And with one sharp crack in his heart, Kyle’s knees give out and meet the ground.