Silas' POV:
I don't like this cell, but does that surprise anyone? It's cold, I'm tired and uncomfortable, and my wrists are sore and now bruised because the cuffs are holding my wrists so tight. Finally, since my dad told me not to, I haven't spoken to anyone, not even gotten to tease the officer standing outside my cell.
I feel like shit, since sleep has been pretty much impossible with how anxious I am, plus the bed is so uncomfortable that even if I was anxiety free, I probably wouldn't get much rest. It's eleven in the morning when my cell door is opened and I'm taken away from the cell.
"What's going on?" I ask as I'm brought to the lobby where my dad, Lincoln, and Atticus are.
My dad holds his hand out and is given a key. "Thank you," he says, guiding me through the front door and toward Atticus' car.
"Dad? What's happening?" I ask, blinking to keep myself awake.
He doesn't respond and I feel the cuffs on my wrists being unlocked. "You're free," he tells me. "You'll get an explanation soon, but for now, just go home with these two. I'm going back home."
"But-"
"Quiet," my dad orders, taking the cuffs away and handing them to Atticus. "Just go home, Silas. They'll explain everything to you."
I don't know how they got me out of jail, but I think I owe it to my dad to listen and wait until I'm back at Atticus and Lincoln's place before I hammer them with questions.
"If something else happens, call me," dad says before getting in the Uber he must have called and taking off.
I'm silent as I get into the back seat of Atticus' car, and neither of the two men in the front seat speaks with me. They must be so mad; I totally turned their lives upside down by getting arrested and they're probably annoyed that they had to spend time trying to get me out of there.
They should've just left me.
We get to the house after about thirty minutes and I can see how tired the two men are as we walk inside.
"Agh, your wrists," Lincoln says, looking at the angry bruises. "Come here."
He makes me sit down in one of the kitchen chairs and wipes off the sweat from being in the cuffs for so long before he wraps them before oth in ice packs to bring down some of the swelling.
"What happened?" I ask, because I'm shocked that they were able to get me out of jail within twenty four hours. "How am I free?"
Atticus is leaning against the wall. "The DNA from the first attack didn't match yours and there was no proof of you in the streets near the apartment building when it blew up, so they decided to release you because we have proof that you were attacked by someone with Mistacesemia."
"Did you get a name?" I ask, because I want to know what bastard attacked me.
"Yes," Lincoln responds. "And they're putting her face on the news so they can capture her."
I sigh in relief, because that's nice to know. "How did your ass of a boss allow that?"
"We spoke to the guys above him," Atticus tells me. "They came in to take you to an actual prison, but we presented our evidence and statement, and they decided you were being unfairly tried. It helped a lot that you didn't attack anyone and let them take you."
That's nice to know, because I don't really want to deal with being brought to an isolated prison. I'm exhausted, but I smile tiredly at the two because they didn't have to help, but I know they were involved.
Hell, Lincoln is a specialist and has a PHD, so I know he was helpful and had a part in identifying who the person who tried to kill me was.
"What's their name?" I ask, because I want to know if it is who I thought it was.
"Andrea Velazco," Atticus says, looking at my murder board and seeing that she was one of the three people who I thought it was. "From Georgia. We don't know her motive, but now the country is on the lookout for her, because it's clear she doesn't care who she kills as long as it means covering her ass. There's DNA evidence at the scene of the first murder that shows she killed Phillip Moore. We think Darrel was hiding it from myself and Jared because he doesn't mind that people with Mistacesemia are killing each other."
Lincoln pats my shoulder. "Let's just get some sleep, okay? You look like shit."
I nod and walk toward my room, but Lincoln's arms seize me from around my waist and he rests his chin on my shoulder. At first I'm scared because Atticus could decide to murder me, but then I feel another set of arms wrap around me and see that both of my saviors are holding me.
"Come lay with us, Silas," Lincoln whispers in my ear, and my heart starts beating abnormally fast.
Am I having a heart attack or just crushing on the very attractive men that are currently holding me?
Hopefully it's a heart attack so I can pass out and be brought to the hospital. At least that way I'll never have to face my feelings for these two.
I don't respond and instead just follow their lead as they pull me toward their room. Just seeing the canopy that I want to have so bad is enough to convince me to stay, even more so when Atticus strips off his shirt and stays in only sweats.
Lincoln switches into a sleep shirt and underwear, and I'm standing like an awkward idiot, gaping at them while I'm still in the clothes I wore yesterday.
I'm pretty sure I smell, too.
Oh, yeah, I smell like BO and anxiety.
"Here," Lincoln says, handing me a short sleeve shirt with a cat wearing sunglasses on the front.
I snort. "You bought that?" I ask, taking off my clothes and putting on the shirt which reaches just pass my thigh. "On purpose?"
"My grandma sent it to me," Lincoln says with a chuckle. "She's convinced it's what the 'cool kids' are wearing. However, it's two sizes too big and I'm a specialist who wears scrubs or suits, so it stays as a sleep shirt."
Atticus is watching us fondly, already climbing into bed and patting the spot beside him. "Come on, you two. I'm tired as hell," he says, and Lincoln dives into bed while I stand at the end awkwardly.
"Silas? Do you sleep standing up?" Lincoln asks, and while it's mean to be a joke, I can see that he's anxious. "We don't bite."
"Yeah, because he'll give me blue balls if I do," Atticus grumbles, earning a cheesy grin from his boyfriend.
His boyfriend.
They are dating, and I'm nothing.
Why do they want me in bed with them when all I've done is make them lose sleep and eaten their food? I know for a fact that they're both aware that I'm crushing on them, so why would they want me in bed with them?
"Silas?" Atticus asks, getting out of bed and walking over to me. "What's wrong?"
Panic rises up inside of me, the same way it did when I was arrested. There are tears dripping down my face and my breathing is getting heavier as I struggle to get air into my lungs.
Lincoln rushes over as well, and the two work together to drag me to the bed and sit me down.
I don't even know why I'm panicking, but it's too much and I cannot calm down. I've never panicked like this, besides yesterday when the cops were on their way to arrest me, and I don't know how to cope with it.
"Lay on your back," Lincoln says in the softest voice I've ever heard. "Atticus, do what you do when I get panicky."
I see Atticus nod out of the corner of my eye and he places his hand on my chest, adding a bit of pressure, and even though it should be harder to breathe, it feels more clear and I'm able to relax a tiny bit.
"Good," Atticus murmurs, lifting the shirt up and placing his hand on my bare skin.
His hands are really warm.
"Deep breaths, Silas," Atticus tells me, and I listen, but they're still shaky and it makes me more anxious that I can't force myself to calm down. "No, no, don't freak yourself out. We'll sit with you until you can relax, Silas. Panic attacks happen, just keep breathing slowly."
Lincoln is brushing his hands over my forehead and combing his dainty fingers through my hair. "Atticus does this for me when I get anxious," he tells me, and I like his smooth talking and upbeat attitude. "It's helping, right?"
"Yes," I manage to say, keeping my eyes locked with Lincoln's. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Atticus says, still helping me breath slower with the pressure he's putting on my chest. "These things happen, and with everything you've had to deal with in the last twenty four hours, I'm not too surprised."
Lincoln hums in agreement. "I'm going to take the compresses off your wrists, okay?" he asks, and it takes my mind off of my nerves, so I nod and turn my head to watch him undo the wrapped compresses and set them on his night stand. "Your wrists are cold!"
"No shit," I mumble, making both Atticus and Lincoln snicker. "Thank you."
I sit up and lean back against their headboard. "I don't know why I panicked," I murmur, but they share a look.
"Is it because we asked you to share the bed with us?" Lincoln asks in a feeble voice, looking at me sadly.
"...I can't," I murmur. "I can't do that because I don't want to fall harder for you two than I already have. You two are in love and you have such a beautiful relationship, but I keep falling for you two, for both of you, and it's not fair of me to do that when all you've done is help me. I'm sorry, I just can't lay with you two and act like you two aren't anything to me when my heart keeps telling me to-"
Atticus cuts me off by pressing his lips to mine and I panic again, throwing him across the room and catching him before he slams into the wall, instead setting him on the ground.
"That was bold," Lincoln says to Atticus, taking my hands in his own. "Maybe you should have been a bit more gentle."
I gape at him. "Why aren't you trying to kill me?! Your boyfriend just kissed me and I threw him across the room!"
Lincoln and Atticus share another one of their secret looks where they communicate telepathically.
"Because we had a conversation about this," Lincoln tells me while Atticus gets up and sits at the end of the bed. "And we both are falling for you, Silas. We want to try something that neither of us have ever done..."
I shake my head. "If it's a threesome I can't do it. I can't just have sex with you two and then be cast to the side."
Atticus shakes his head. "Not what we meant," he says, making my eyebrows naturally pinch together in confusion. "We want to start a relationship with all three of us. A polyamorous relationship where we're all boyfriends. Not just a fuck and duck situation."
Well, this is a lot to take in.
I don't deal well with confrontation, so I do what I do best when I'm scared.
I run.
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