As the crowd stared in family-friendly horror, Lu grabbed Adon’s hand and yanked him out of their seats, sprinting up the stairs without an explanation, straining to pull the confused Adon behind him. The crowd inhaled collectively, then panicked. Someone had shot Y. Y, who they’d all bet to place or show. A sure victor. Y, who was the Conductor’s racer, untouchable. Y, who was closer to a folk hero than athlete, redistributing the wealth so that they gave their legitimate Asylum credit account numbers to bookies and loan sharks they otherwise wouldn’t have approached. The few pairs of Sec-Offs on Enforcement duty had no chance against such desperation as the uproarious crowd sprang for the gambling tents, stampeding in angry riots or fleeing like Lu and Adon as a stadium full of district alerts activated all at once, warning the hazard itself of the danger. 

Adon glanced back once to see the unmoving racer alone on the track, blood pooling as other racers’ pit crews ran to care for minor injuries, hurriedly wheeling bikes into locked hangars, away from the rioting crowd breaking through the track fences and hopping barriers. The betrayal was brutal, heartbreaking, an intentional message of a dog put down, a power move reminding even the newcomers that there was no escaping the will of the Wells. 

Adon felt haunted, all he could think of was the bruises that broke against the skin as his mother screamed that he owed her, when he was ten, the way Security had restrained her, turning on him in warning, never offering so much as a tissue to stop the bleeding. Then again, he owed her, his purpose was to take on her debt without even being granted the dignity of a name picked out for him. His chest tightened, his neck sore from the weight of the helmet Lu had shoved on his head, he’d never worn it so long in a day, wheezing and coughing, pulled behind Lu and fighting a surging dizziness as people surged around them. He’d never felt so hungry and nauseated at the same time. He didn’t know which direction they were headed or how to get home with only an outdated nav system, suddenly understanding all those old warning tales of people getting lost on the ground, Grounders he’d once dismissed as irresponsible and stupid for straying far enough away to get lost. Now here he was, almost one of them. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Hey… Adon. Doni. It’s okay, Adon,” Lu shook Adon’s shoulders lightly, tapping his helmet, watching Adon’s chest rise and fall in growing panic, “it’s okay, we’re okay.”

Adon flinched, blinking Lu into focus, realizing they’d stopped and Lu was bent in front of him, trying to see through his tinted helmet visor. Lu’s helmet was sitting on the floor of the carpeted hall so Adon pulled his own off, looking around and realizing they were in an abandoned but sealed skywalk, chuckling at himself as his fear subsided, “sorry, I zoned out.”

Lu relaxed, pulling gently at each of Adon’s limbs, inspecting their function, “you’re not hurt anywhere?”

Adon smiled at the worry in Lu’s face, eyes brightening at the chaos as he leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper, “who do you think shot her?”

Lu sighed, slumping against the wall and sinking to the floor as Adon curled beside him. He glared sideways at Adon’s innocent smile, ruffling his hair and gently pushing his face away, “don’t give me that look.”

“If the Conductor did it… wouldn’t that mean….” Adon stopped, chewing his lip and eyeing the growing tension in Lu’s shoulders, realizing that while he was passing time playing detective with Wells politics, based on the hints he’d dropped, Lu would have to navigate the repercussions farm more consciously. Then, belatedly, Adon’s eyes widened and he realized Lu might have known the victim, not as a racer, but the way he’d waved to the crew wearing brown uniforms. “Are you…okay?”

Lu frowned, “me? Yeah, why,” Lu sat up, surveying Adon, “are you?”

Adon nodded, “I’m okay.”

“A little traumatized?” 

Adon snorted, shrugging. 

Lu leaned back against the wall with a sigh, “Pa’s not in the Quartet…. But he wants to be.” His voice was raw, a confession to his boots splayed in front of him more than to Adon watching him carefully. “I don’t really know what Pa does. I never ask….” He sighed guiltily, shaking his head, ashamed at his willful ignorance.

Adon let his head fall against the brick wall, following Lu’s gaze to cars flying over the twining rails outside the glass wall of the skywalk. It was almost beautiful, if it wasn’t so close to the ground, the air tinged with garbage and urine, the shaking floor reminding them of stories of spontaneously collapsing walkways, the rickety rails missing the sleek background noise of the Mids trains. 

“Lu-Lu?” Adon interrupted the stretching quiet, lolling his head thoughtfully to Lu, “you’re not really in a position to ask questions yet. You’re still a kid.” Adon shrugged, “What if you don’t like the answers? What do you do? Compromise all your values and have nightmares until you die of exhaustion? Runaway? Get addicted to dust? Join the Gounders? ” Adon winced at his own bluntness, mumbling “they’d probably just sell you back to your dad anyway. Or someone worse.”

Lu nodded absently. It was strange to hear Pa referred to as his dad. A dad was what Mids kids had, not Grounders. Grounders had Pas and Fathers and Sirs, bosses and leaders who loved with open-fisted corrections and trained orders that must be obeyed—dads loved with smiles and birthday wishes and bedtime stories. Pa was no dad, Pa was Gideon, head of the Flock. He’d owned a club in the Arcade when Lu was a kid, Lu’s mom had been a famous Arcade girl, but that was all Benny would tell him. Then there was the construction company and the Conductor, and Lu only knew that the uncles left with weapons and returned with funeral boxers and bruises. But more than his dreaded questions, was the strange calm blooming in his chest at Adon’s understanding and the absolution of a responsibility he hadn’t yet learned to carry. There was hope and patience and time in that understanding. He could grow into someone ready to ask Pa what he did, to fight the expectation of inheritance slowly. Adon was the first person Lu could remember who called him what he was: a child. And it was foolish that in the presence of another child carrying a weight he’d also never learned to hold, that he felt the relief of permission to be childish and scared, immediately followed by the desire to be strong enough to face the weight and throw it off. 

Lu smiled distantly, still gazing out the window, “if I score well on my CAPT, maybe I can…” escape seemed extreme, but it was the only word he could think of.

“Live with us?” Adon filled in the silence. 

Lu whipped his head to face Adon in surprise, “what?” He couldn’t help the teary smile, all the thoughts he’d refused to entertain barging into his mind, all the ways he might be warm and not a burden. How he might wake up in Adon’s house and help him pack lunches and ask him about homework and pick Mess up when Adon was working and draw him every day he had nothing else to do. 

Adon nodded at Lu, giving him permission to imagine any future he wanted, shuffling closer. There was a smile tucked in the corners of his mouth as he reached his chin up. 

Lu smoothed a thumb over Adon’s jaw, tangling fingers in his hair as he leaned down to meet him halfway. Their lips met softly, hesitantly, confirming the future they were both imagining, adrenaline and survival instinct still calculating their safety as their fingers mingled between them and they clumsily pulled apart, giggling, ecstatic to have that clawing question between them finally answered. 

Adon dropped his head on Lu’s shoulder, ears red and flushed with relief as they watched cars rumble down ancient rails and waited for their district alerts to stop flashing, starry-eyed with shared hopes. 

“I guess it was a date-date,” Lu wriggled his eyebrows playfully, snorting as Adon smacked his arm. He pulled Adon closer beside him, his wristband flashing a steady orange around his wrist as he moved them so he was wrapped around Adon who was leaning against his chest, “can I go with you tomorrow?”

Adon nodded, grateful he didn’t have to ask and folding himself tighter into Lu until their feet fell asleep. They unfolded and began wandering the halls, Adon not bothering to check his useless map, following wherever Lu decided to take him, hands intertwined, braiding their future dreams together as they walked. 

Lu answered Benny’s texts this time, assuring him that he was safe and would report for training in the morning while Adon checked in on Mess and Aphy, who did not answer but Mess said was still at her desk painting. They stopped at a cafe car and Lu made Adon eat while he responded to student questions and filed the payment transfer reports with a heavy sigh. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lu offered. 

“No,” Adon pocketed his phone with a smile, “you’re a very good distraction.”

Lu snorted, sliding his desert across the table to share between them. 

There was a loud thud on the tin roof of the dining car and a customer screamed. Adon turned instinctually toward the wall of windows toward the closed balcony of the cart, but Lu reached for his face, keeping him from looking and holding his steady gaze with a sorrowful shake of his head in warning. He replayed Pa’s demand in his head, if he’s going to leave here, he might as well go all the way to the top, as he saw the understanding dawn on Adon’s face. 

Adon relaxed and Lu let go of his chin, he did not turn to join the spectacle of customers crowding the windows to watch the jumper’s body roll off the train car and down the pit of tracks, presumably to the ground below, perhaps the roof of an abandoned warehouse or a dump, already long dead, food for the dog packs. Adon returned his attention to his phone and the list of new units Heather had sent him with pending-approval by whatever stipend he was awarded, reviewing them by district location rather than any real merit. Aphrodite Peach was stupid, she’d kill him, but Aphrodite Amber, or Aphrodite Amaranth, those had a nice ring, but Messenger Ash? No, Ash Denim? Closer, but all the districts sounded okay with one name and then horrible with another. Mess Jade? Aph Ruby? That sounded too close to an Arcade girl. Adon glanced sheepishly at Lu when he realized he wasn’t even thinking of his own name: Adonis Ruby? Adon Jade? Doni Denim? There were so many versions of himself he could become.