Fiction: Ten (Aaron)

He sits at a table in an almost deserted café, for once attempting to not stand out. Blond hair brushed down instead of spiked up, casual jeans and a black hoodie instead of his usual loud stage-clothes, pretending to read a newspaper instead of chatting loudly with friends. Tonight, Aaron doesn’t want to stand out. Tonight, he wants to escape for just one more day.

He glances at the watch above the café counter. Five minutes to midnight, the seconds ticking away slowly. Far too slowly. He sighs, and looks watches as a little kid with spectacular orange-red hair walks up to the counter, tries to buy food but is refused because she doesn’t have enough money. “You’re stupid!” she yells, and then she storms back outside.

Aaron shakes his head, wonders what a kid like her is doing alone in a café at this time of night. Kid had to be seven years old, tops, but possibly less. It’s not always easy to tell with children that age. He wishes that she hadn’t come in like this – even if she bears no resemblance to his own sons, she still manages to force him to think about them.

He can’t really afford to think about them, not now. He needs to stay focused, stay sharp, something which is rather difficult to do if he allows himself to think, to remember, to feel. But there’s no choice in the matter. He should have known what he was getting himself into. He thinks he should regret ever taking the two boys in, but he finds that he still can’t.

No matter how much he would like to deny it, Aaron knows that they are his life. They are more than his life.

And he wishes he could be at home with them now, instead of sitting here in the glaring neon lights that hurts his eyes. He wonders what they’re doing now. Nearly midnight; Minhwan is probably sleeping already. Seven years old, and the baby, the one everyone treasures and wants to protect. Aaron can imagine him, curled up on the couch with his head in Kanata’s lap, sleeping soundly regardless of the amount of chaos going on around him.

Jaejin, however, is probably still awake; it’s a nightmare to get him to sleep. He’s eight, and considers himself a grown-up already. Aaron thinks he’s probably sitting on the floor right now, in between Dominic and Vintersorg, playing video games with them and kicking both their asses.

“I should be there,” he mutters to himself; quiet, but not quiet enough, seeing as the man at the table next to him looks over at him. Gives him the kind of glance that makes Aaron very uncomfortable. There’s a reason why he usually spends his time either at home or in the various nightclubs and small concert halls they play, after all. He hates this. Hates being tense every single second, hates being worried that someone will recognize him, hates that his world might end any second unless he’s careful. Fuck, he spent his entire childhood being careful, he hasn’t signed on for the same thing for all of his life.

All he wants is some peace and quiet to take care of his sons and be with his friends and play his music. That’s all he wants. Aaron doesn’t think that’s too much, but he also thinks that there are a lot of people who don’t agree with him.

He looks down at his newspaper, reads the same headline for the umpteenth time. Nothing seems to register. Nothing apart from the man still looking at him, and the small glances he’s sure he’s getting from the staff behind the counter.

He wonders if he’s going insane, and smiles to himself, ever so slightly, because if Vintersorg was here he would tell him to chill – get a fucking grip, man, you’re behaving like a flower chick on a bad acid trip. The Vintersorg in his head might just have a point as well.

But the atmosphere still feels too tense, too awkward, so Aaron pays for his coffee and sandwich and walks out of the café. Quite frankly, he’s glad to leave it behind. He has never belonged in places like that, frequented by drunks and druggies and homeless people who have managed to gather just enough money for a cheap meal. That’s not his life, and he never wants it to be his life either.

And yet, it’s the seventh night in as many days which he has spent like this. Alone.

A few steps away from the café his cell phone rings, and he picks it up because it’s a call that he expects.

“Hey, Dominic,” he says quietly, walks away from the main street and the lamps overhead until he finds a side alley. He leans against the rough brick wall, shudders over the chill. Wishes once again that he could be home right now.

“Hey, Aaron,” comes the soft reply from the other end of the line. Dominic is always pleasant to talk to. He’s quiet instead of obnoxious, like Vintersorg. Of course, Aaron loves them both, they’re his best friends, but he has a bigger tendency of wanting to strangle Vintersorg, so they keep the nightly phone calls to a minimum.

“The kids are okay, they’re asleep. Well, Minhwan’s asleep, Jaejin is…”

“Difficult to get to sleep, I know. Just let him read in bed if you don’t want to entertain him any longer.”

Dominic laughs, and Aaron is convinced that he can hear Jaejin and Kanata argue in the background. Nothing new in that. “Oh, he’s the one entertaining us, don’t worry about it. When do you think you’ll be back?”

The question – although it comes up every night – makes Aaron’s throat constrict. He doesn’t want to keep giving the same answer again and again, but he has no choice. “I don’t know, Dominic. I can’t… You know it would be too risky for me to go home.”

Silence. For a long time. Then Dominic sighs, and Aaron can practically feel his sadness. “Aaron… The kids miss you. I know why you have to stay away, but… Couldn’t we find somewhere to meet? They really need to see you again.”

“I know, Dom, I know,” Aaron replies, and he’s not surprised to find that he sounds tired. He has gotten used to a life that no longer exists, and living on the run is far from as fun as it was over fifteen years ago. He knows how to do this, knows how to stay off radar, but he hadn’t counted on his family and friends. He really hadn’t thought they would make things so much more complicated.

“We’ve been keeping watch, checking the neighborhood. Vintersorg says that there’s nobody following us. It should be safe to meet somewhere, just for an hour or so,” Dominic continues, almost eager. It makes Aaron smile faintly – he thinks that Dominic might just be missing him as well, that this isn’t all about the kids. Or at least he hopes so, even if he still has to crush the hopefulness in his friend’s voice.

“You know I want to, I miss you all. I really do. But you have to trust me; I know what I’m doing.”

“Aaron---”

“No. I can’t, Dom. You know I can’t. It hurts the kids, sure, but it’ll hurt them more if I’m caught. So just stop it already, okay?” Aaron hates the hardness in his voice, hates that he’s ordering Dominic around just like Vintersorg orders Dominic around, and he’s on the verge of apologizing when Dominic sighs quietly on the other end.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just difficult to see the boys when they’re sad ‘cause you’re not there, you know?”

Aaron isn’t fond of the constricting pain in his chest, either, and he suddenly wonders if these nightly calls are really such a good thing. All they’re doing is reminding him that he’s not where he’s supposed to be, that he might lose everything he’s living for, that he might never see the ones he loves again. “I know,” he says, closing his eyes because he forgot how to cry a long time ago.

They’re both silent for a short moment, and even if Aaron is sure that Dominic is going to argue further, say something else, he doesn’t. “Well, okay, uhm… Everything else is okay, the boys are doing well, and they’re doing their homework and practicing. Apart from you not being here, we’re all okay.”

Aaron nods to himself; he doesn’t expect Dominic to tell him anything else – there’s not reason why they wouldn’t be okay, after all – but it’s still nice to have it confirmed. In a strange way, it helps him believe that he made the right choice in running away. “I’m doing alright too,” he replies. They both know that it’s not the truth, not really, but what else can he say? It’s not like he can tell Dominic about the sleepless nights, the constant nagging fear, the anger and the frustration. They don’t talk about things like that, they never have.

“I hope we’ll get to see you soon,” Dominic says quietly. Opts for not saying anything more about the boys, apparently. Aaron thinks he’s relieved – hearing more about what his sons are doing when he’s not there to see it tears him apart. Dominic sighs again, but then he laughs. “Vintersorg tells you to get your fucking head out of your ass and that you should fuck off home.”

It’s so strange to hear Dominic talk like Vintersorg that Aaron has to laugh as well. Trust that idiot to lighten the mood with a couple of sentences. “Tell him to mind his own fucking business, and that I’ll be home as soon as it’s safe. Talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”

“As always,” Dominic replies, and then he hangs up.

Aaron snaps the cell phone shut and shoves it back into his pocket before he pushes himself away from the wall and starts walking down the street. He does his best to look like anyone else who might be inclined to wander the streets around midnight, tries to look as inconspicuous as possible. As inconspicuous as it’s possible to be when you’re walking down a nearly deserted street at midnight, that is.

At the sound of footsteps behind him, he tenses up automatically. It’s not that it’s unusual for others to be walking around at this time of night, but his nerves have gotten a bit frayed over the past week. Besides, Aaron likes to think that he has a sense of danger by now (living with what’s practically a death sentence over your head can do that to you), and there’s something that’s just not right about these footsteps.

Pretending that he hasn’t noticed, Aaron speeds up slightly, hopes to get enough of a distance between them so that he can slip into an alley and avoid being followed. The person behind him picks up his pace as well, which is a clear-cut sign that he’s definitely not just wandering aimlessly down the street. And it’s everything Aaron needs to break into a run, sprinting down the road. He’s still confident; it’s not like it’s the first time he has out-run someone who is following him.

Not this time, not this time, not this time, Aaron thinks as he runs. He has avoided capture every single time before, there’s no reason why tonight shouldn’t be any different. After all, by now he knows the city far better, and he has a hell of a lot more to lose.

The last time, all he had was himself, nothing more and nothing less. And it had been enough to keep him alive. He had lived a life that consisted of hiding, stealing and generally trying not to exist, and it’s not a life he’s very keen to pick up again. Back then he had lived like this for several months without any problems at all. This time a mere week of it seems to be enough to nearly break him.

The man following him – or at least Aaron guesses it’s a man, judging by the heavy footsteps – starts to run as well, and Aaron can hear him shout something, though he can’t pick up the individual words. He doesn’t know if the man is yelling to him or to someone else, and frankly, he’s not about to stick around to find out which it is, either.

His heart races as he rounds a corner, nearly runs straight into a car but manages to swerve around it, sprints down a narrow alleyway and comes out onto a larger, well lit street on the other side. Aaron stops for a split second, unsure of which way to take, before he runs to the left, only to be met with the sight of two police cars pulling up at the end of the street seconds later. He turns abruptly to head the other way, but the man following him has reached the street as well, and suddenly Aaron is left with few options.

“Fuck,” he says to no one in particular, and jumps over the nearest fence to run through the garden and slip in between the houses so that he can get lost in the shadows. He thinks he’s made it when he reaches the house, but then a hand closes around his wrist and yanks him back hard. Aaron nearly loses his balance, especially when there’s a second yank, but he’s running on pure adrenaline and pulls free of the grip, keeps running.

The man is close behind him, Aaron can’t shake him, and by now he hears the voices of other men and women as well, the sound of the police sirens and the bright flashes of red and blue making him dizzy.

And scared. Terrified, even.

Once again the man grabs a hold of Aaron, and this time the grip is much tighter, harder to shake himself out of, even if he tries. “For fuck’s sake man, just stop. You’re surrounded,” the man gasps, just as out of breath as Aaron is. He doesn’t see the point in replying, and merely tries to push the other off.

“You’re going to end up being shot, is that what you want?” the man asks, exasperated after Aaron punches him in the face.

“I sure as fuck don’t want to end up in The Cage,” Aaron spits back and frees himself a second time, running – only to run straight into the three police men that have followed them into the garden. The entire neighborhood seems to be waking up, lights flickering on and providing fewer places for Aaron to hide; not that he really need anywhere to hide right now. He needs to shake the cops, needs to trick them, needs to run, needs to breathe.

As he fights with the men, struggling to get free even if he knows very well that this is one battle he can’t possibly win, the image of his sons flashes in his mind, over and over, like a TV with too much static. It makes him feel like screaming and he punches one of the police men; struggles, struggles, struggles because

“Do you really have to go, dad?” Jaejin asks, face all serious because he’s older and comprehends more. Aaron loves him; the oldest, the smartest, the bookworm, the wannabe bass player, the serious one of the brothers. Jaejin is more quiet and withdrawn, he doesn’t open up to people easily, he doesn’t smile much – but when he does, it’s a slow smile that can melt hearts of stone and ice. Jaejin is also the strongest one, both physically and emotionally. He’s the big brother in every sense of the word, protecting his little brother if it’s necessary, and he has the scars to prove it.

“Yeah, dad, we don’t want you to go. Stay with us, please,” Minhwan adds, wraps his arms around Aaron’s neck and clings to him. Minhwan likes to cling, whether it’s to Dominic, Kanata, Jaejin or Aaron, and they all let him because they know what he’s been through. Minhwan is the baby of the family, a year younger than his brother, but a lot louder. He laughs often, but he cries often as well. Minhwan carries his heart on his sleeve, and Aaron is often afraid that he’ll end up getting hurt over and over because of it. Minhwan is the joker, the prankster, the wannabe drummer, the dreamer, the one they all love with the kind of warmth and honesty that is almost frightening at times.

Aaron swallows; he doesn’t want to disappoint them. He’s not the best father in the world, he knows that much, but he loves the two of them and he makes sure they know it. Even if their life can be very strange at times, he does his best to make sure that they have a good life now, after the hell they lived through from birth and to Jaejin was five years old and Minhwan was four.

“I’m sorry, guys, but I don’t have any choice,” he says, honestly surprised over how unsteady his voice is. He prides himself on being strong, he has always been strong, but in the presence of his sons it’s like all of that goes out the window in a heartbeat. “I never wanted this to happen, but I promise I’ll be back, and you’ll be safe here with Dominic, Kanata and Vintersorg staying over for a while. Is that okay?”

The boys hesitate, but then nod, Jaejin first, as always. Minhwan looks at his brother, and then nods as well – it’s always Jaejin that makes the decisions. Aaron smiles to them in relief, and makes a mental note to thank his friends for helping him out. They’re almost not even friends anymore; they’re closer than that. They’re all family by now, even if the only ones that are related by blood are the two pair of brothers: Vintersorg and Kanata, and Jaejin and Minhwan.

“That’s good,” Aaron says, and he hugs both boys close to him, for a long time. He doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to add more stress to their lives, doesn’t want to hurt them. Maybe giving up would be the best thing. Go quietly, like the police no doubt want him to. But he’s never been like that, and he’s sure as hell not going to start not, now that he has the boys. He loves them, like he loved his own siblings back when he was a kid. The siblings that never got to grow up, and which are in turn the reason why he still has to run, so many years later.

Aaron thinks it’s impossible to get rid of your past, especially if it’s an ugly and evil one. You could never make up for the mistakes, no matter what.

He gets to his feet and walks into the small bedroom to pack a bag of the most necessary things he’ll need to survive on his own. The boys follow him and bounce on the bed while he packs – for once he doesn’t tell them to quit it and simply watches instead, laughing with them.

“I learned a new chord yesterday,” Jaejin informs him, obvious pride in his voice.

“You did? That’s great, you know a lot by now. Winter is a good teacher, huh?”

Jaejin nods, grinning, before he flops down onto the mattress to take a break from the bouncing. Aaron notices that his clothes are starting to get a little too small; he’s been growing so much lately, being over a head taller than his brother by now. “Yeah, he’s great. I want to be just like Winter when I grow up,” he says enthusiastically, and Aaron nearly chokes because he’d rather not have his son end up like that. Sure, he loves Vintersorgc, but a pink-haired, foul-mouthed, and slightly sadistic bassist is not exactly what his oldest son should strive to be.

“Just be you, Jaejin, that’s more than enough. Never try to copy someone, just be who you really are,” he replies and ruffle’s Jaejin’s dark hair. He’s not sure if he’s the right person to be giving life lessons, all things considered, but he tries to teach the boys about right and wrong, and apart from that he lets them evolve in whatever way they want. Lets them be themselves.

“I want to be like Dominic,” Minhwan exclaims, and Aaron nearly chokes again. He gives his youngest son a slightly exasperated look because even if he knows that Minhwan idolized Dominic just as much as Jaejin idolizes Vintersorg, he still doesn’t like the idea of either of them growing up to be like the men they’re such avid fans of. Aaron loves Dominic too, but if being pink-haired and a sadist was bad, then being blue-haired, too feminine and more than a little masochistic isn’t really all that much better.

He sighs heavily and pulls Minhwan down before he jumps high enough to hit his head on the ceiling, pulling him down onto his lap. “You just have to be yourself as well. And if either of you dye your hair crazy colors while I’m gone, there’ll be hell to pay when I get back home, got it?”

Minhwan just laughs and hugs him – he’s been allowed to grow his hair longer than Jaejin and bleach it slightly as well, simply because he nagged Aaron about it for months and it was easier to just let him do it. “I love you, dad,” he says, and laughs again before squirming free and going back to jumping on the bed, pestering Jaejin as much as possible in the process.

Aaron smiles even if he knows he has to leave as soon as possible, before the police decide to show up. “You’re both utterly crazy,” he says, fondness in his voice. “But I love you too.” Aaron isn’t used to saying things like that, isn’t used to showing so much emotion anymore because he learned when he was little what would happen if he showed too much emotion and

One of the police men hits him over the back of the head with a baton, and Aaron groans, practically feels how the world goes black, and he sinks down to his knees. It’s a split second’s lapse, one single moment where he doesn’t fight because of the sheer pain, and it’s all the cops need. Almost before he has the chance to react, his arms are wrenched back, and there’s the feeling of cold steel clasping around his wrists.

“Aaron Craig, you are under arrest for---”

He curses so loudly that it drowns out the rest of the police man’s words, and he starts to struggle again now that the pain dies down again. His breathing it too shallow, too quick, and he’s honestly afraid that he’ll break down in tears soon because he can’t do this. He has been arrested once, but was bailed out, and those two weeks he spent in the holding cell was the worst of his life. He can’t go back, he doesn’t want to go back, the thought of it makes him cold with dread and fear and anger because fuck it, he’s got something to live for.

This isn’t what’s meant to happen.

The man that followed him from the café drags Aaron onto his feet and loosens the handcuff on one wrist to bring his hands to his front instead. Aaron thinks it’s a stupid move; he can fight that way, after all. And then there’s another hit to his head, and everything goes black for a few seconds.

When the world comes back into focus Aaron finds himself completely surrounded by cops and curious onlookers, most of them in pajamas. He lets his gaze slide over them, still half unfocused, taking in the varying ages, ethnicities, appearances, genders. They’re all different, but they all have the same slack-jawed expression of morbid curiosity. He has an urge to lash out at them all, hurt them for standing there watching him like this. Fuckers, all of them.

The cops drag him past the crowd, only stopping next to the police cars. Aaron still hasn’t quite given up – he’s honestly terrified to end up in The Cage, and he’s fairly sure that that’s exactly where he’s headed if he allows this to happen. Sure, he can get lawyers, but it will all come down to the cold, hard facts, and they haven’t changed in the years that have passed. Neither have the evidence. He thinks he knows exactly what will happen, and the consequence of it all is that the boys, his Jaejin and Minhwan, will end up back in the system.

He hates that thought with a burning passion, and wrenches free from the men holding him, tries to make a run for it even if he’s surrounded by people. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before they catch up to him, hitting him again, making him see stars. Aaron’s fairly sure this isn’t standard treatment, no matter who they’re hunting. So much for a fair system. He had honestly thought that in a place like this there wouldn’t be any racism anymore, but apparently that isn’t the case. Just one more disappointment in a life that has brought a long string of disappointments.

Aaron feels a lump in his throat, bends his head and lowers his gaze. He’s used to being proud, to standing firm, but for once in his life, he feels like pleading. For Jaejin and Minhwan’s sake, he’d beg, if he thought it would make a difference.

But it wouldn’t, and so he doesn’t say anything. Only thinks it. Please, please, please… For my sons’ sake, let me go. Let me go, please. Show some mercy. See the big picture. Don’t take my kids away from me. Don’t take their father away from them. Please. Please.

No one can hear his silent plea, no one pays him much attention now, as the cops fill out forms and talk among themselves, keeping close guard on him. The crowd disperses slowly, families going back into their safe houses to sleep again. The only one looking at him twice is the man that chased him for so long, the one that is – ultimately – the reason that Aaron’s standing here now. There’s something almost sympathetic in the man’s eyes, as if he has an inclination that maybe this isn’t the triumph the other cops are making it out to be.

Aaron doesn’t know, and he doesn’t really care. Unless the man is going to help him escape, it doesn’t matter what he thinks. And of course, he doesn’t. He stands there, looking at Aaron, but then he shakes his head – as if he’s shaking off unpleasant thoughts – and turns his back, leaving Aaron to the others.

Handcuffed and overmanned, Aaron doesn’t have a choice. He’s pushed roughly into the nearest police car by laughing policemen, the noise grating his ears. His eyes feel sore, but he doesn’t cry; and he’s not going to. Instead, he bends his head and looks at the watch around his wrist.

Five minutes past midnight.