Ethan sneaks out of the hospital carefully, taking hurried steps, avoiding attention, and trying his best not to look suspicious. A piece of paper—his reward for relentlessly fighting to find Jacques—was kept safe in his pocket. He had gone after Mourice because he assumed that Mourice's father was the one who took Jacques away, kidnapping the young prisoner and probably exiling him somewhere like the mines to do labor work or something equally harsh.
In short, Ethan finally reaches a cab and exhales all his tension away.
"Where to?" the cab driver asks.
Ethan mentions his address, and the cab glides over the asphalt.
Ethan reaches for the paper in his pocket and impatiently unfolds it to read what Mourice wrote. But to his surprise, it wasn't a code, a letter of location, coordinates, or instructions—just a phone number with a little note underneath it:
"Call me, babe" and the kiss emoji acts like cherry on top.
Ethan exhales again, this time in disappointment.
He crumples the paper and is about to throw it away, but he stops himself. Maybe Mourice needs to explain the details directly. Maybe he needs context to understand. Or maybe it's not that simple. And any other "maybe."
Once he got home, Ethan takes a cup of ice cream and starts eating it. The chocolate flavor really helps to calm him down. This is the first time he had gone into a hospital, crossdressed, and nearly killed someone just to get information.
Was it all worth it?
For Jacques?
Flashes of memories of Jacques "escaping" to his flat because he was sick from staying up all night came rushing back.
Ethan had patiently changed the towel to help him feel more comfortable against the fever and checked his body temperature with a thermometer.
"You exhaust yourself, and now your body's paying the price. Tell me if it's worth it now," Ethan nagged, spoon-feeding Jacques a warm bowl of potato and egg soup.
"It's worth it," Jacques smiled unapologetically.
"Why can't you just choose one?" Ethan asked, this time gently.
"Because if I quit the police academy, my mother would be disappointed. I promised her I would be responsible for the path I chose. But at the same time, this is what I really want to do, and I can't wait until I graduate," Jacques explained.
Ethan smiled. He once knew a dreamer too—someone who had dreamed of flying, just like Jacques. However, things hadn't worked out; astrophobia had killed his dream. But Jacques… he was a fighter. It's something not many people are willing to do—fight for their dreams. All he needs are chances and, of course, more time.
"You're still 15. I'm sure your mother would understand. If she supported you back then, she can support you again now," Ethan advised.
"No, no. She said once I choose something, I have to put all my effort into it. If I start thinking about something else, I might leave it for something else too. I have to be disciplined and responsible for my choices," Jacques said, eating another spoonful.
There were so many days Jacques stays in his flat, he said his dorm isn't as fresh as Ethan's flat, and he design his space ship in Ethan's flat.
While savoring the chocolate ice cream, Ethan smiles, Jacques was so talented. If only he would think less about other people and just focus on what he want, he probably unstoppable and instead of disappeared because being kidnapped by the police, he probably already in the sky, flying among the stars just like his dreams that he always told Ethan.
Whenever he talk about his dream, he begin to made stories. Interesting fantasy about him cruising the void, landed in weird planet and with all the adventures he had.
Those innocent wish.... Ethan want to protect it.
The boy just want to fly, but the world keep pinning him down like a bird in the cage.
Ethan takes the crumpled paper contains Mourice's number and dials it. But instead calling him, he text Mourice.
"Where is he?" he text, and send.
Fixed Version:
Mourice didn't answer. Ethan waited for hours and hours, beginning to think that maybe Mourice didn't have his phone with him. But something told him—like an urgent call from within—that he had to call him, not just text.
Ethan had no time to waste. He dialed the number.
Mourice picked up on the first ring.
"Where is he?" Ethan repeated.
"Who is this?" Mourice sounded calm, almost unbothered.
"You wrote your number on the paper. What do you want with this?" Ethan tried to remind Mourice about him.
"Oh… it's the cute killer!" Mourice laughed, sounding annoyingly pleased with himself. "Took you hours to call me, huh?"
"Just get straight to the point. Where is Jacques Durant?"
"Yeah, I said I could help you, but… why do you want to help Jacques?"
"Because he's my friend."
"I see… but how did you two meet?"
"We met in some diner—can you please just get straight to the point?" Ethan was growing impatient.
"I'd like to, but I need to know first who you are and what you want. I mean, you almost killed me back then," Mourice's voice remained calm, as if talking about a near-death experience was like describing a swim in the pool.
"I will for sure if you keep playing," Ethan snapped.
"Now, now… don't get grumpy. My dad just disowned me, and I need to get out of this hospital. I'm still a bit fuzzy in the head. If you help me, I'll help you. How about it?" Mourice smirked. Adding a little moment of vulnerability would trigger Ethan's sympathy and start something between them.
"I'm assuming you don't know the answer. Goodbye." Ethan hung up.
He threw the phone on the dining table and rubbed his eyes, frustrated and tired. He had done everything to track down Mourice, questioning the other police cadets. And when he finally got to Mourice, it didn't seem like he knew the answer. Even if he did, it seemed like he was aiming for something else. Mourice definitely wasn't someone who was easy to scare. Ethan needed to think of another way to locate Jacques.
His phone rang.
It was Mourice.
Ethan shook his head. No, he doesn't know. That's why he keeps beating around the bush.
The phone rang for fifteen minutes, but Ethan ignored it, massaging his feet while dipping them into a bucket of warm water. It felt refreshing.
Even after Ethan finished relaxing, Mourice was still trying to reach out to him. He picked up his phone and caught part of a message Mourice had sent ten minutes ago:
"Hey, pick it up. Come on, I can help you, rea—"
Just then, another message appeared on his screen, with the first few words revealed in the notification:
"Ok, I'm being honest. I think you're cute. I—"
Mourice clearly had no intention of helping him find Jacques. So, Ethan silenced the phone and left it on the dining table before heading back to his bed to read some medical books for his studies. The search for Jacques was still ongoing, but he also had school to worry about.
***
DREAM
Jared is in a dark room with a single bulb hanging in the center. The room is small, a 3x3 metallic square with cold walls and floor. No door is visible. He isn't alone. Someone else is there, standing in the corner where the shadows are thickest.
"You better show yourself," Jared says, his voice sharp. "You're always ruining everything. You tried to kill my Mentor, and now you're stopping me from finding him—dragging me back to the bunker. Who are you, and what do you want?"
Jared begins pacing in a circle, his eyes locked on the shadowed figure.
The Shadow replies, "Do you know what an idiot is? Someone who knows there's danger but keeps going anyway. That's you."
"That's called courage," Jared fires back. "I keep going even when I know it's dangerous because it's bigger than my life! It's what my life is about—it's where I'm going!"
"The bunker is better," the Shadow growls. "It's safer. You'll be with people who can protect you."
"I'm not here to settle!" Jared snaps. "I'm here to expand! I have a dream, and I'll chase it or die trying!" His voice hardens. "Now show me the door and get out of my way. I've got better things to do than argue with you."
The Shadow gestures toward something behind Jared. "That's the door. Go ahead—keep fighting. But I'll be right behind you, keeping an idiot safe."
Jared turns and sees the door, wide open. Beyond it, bunker dwellers are walking by, chatting and mingling as they go about their daily routines. He looks back toward the Shadow. The figure remains hidden, lurking in the gloom and void, a dark presence soaked in quiet menace.
"I don't need your protection," Jared warns.
"Trust me," the Shadow says calmly. "You need me more than you know."
Jared steps out of the small, dark room and returns to the bunker. He feels tired—he'll rest before heading back into the forest to search for the Mentor again.