Dead EndChapter 19

Mrs. Jane leads to the back of the house after they’ve finished eating. Jordan’s stomach is feeling slightly bloated—it’s possible he ate too much. But the cookies were really very good, the crunch perfect and the taste magnificent. Once his nerves abated enough that he could actually taste what he was eating, he’d found it difficult to stop. And they’re so small, too…

They amble to the back of the house together, the hallways long and narrow and full of nicknacks. Paintings hang on walls, tables and drawers standing everywhere and bowls and small statues on them, as well as plenty of photographs. The entire house seems to have that lavender smell, and the windows are all wide and high, with long curtains reaching all the way to the floor, the fabric bunching up.  7xS5dJ

At the back of the house is a small door. ”Here,” Mrs. Jane says, nodding to them as she unlocks the door with a large key. She has to jiggle the handle for it to open, and then Sebastian is the first one out.

Poking his head out through the door after Sebastian, Jordan is instantly assaulted by the smell of shit. It reminds him of those times he visited the stables where his cousin took horse riding classes when they were kids—that overwhelming, pungent smell that makes his nose sting. His nose scrunches up as he steps fully outside, Mrs. Jane following behind him.

Chrysanthemum Garden.

It’s an entirely walled in garden, the walls at least two meters tall. Up against the brick-wall right across them is a large cage and inside, a couple of chickens are walking free. Jordan’s eyes widen, and he turns his head to Mrs. Jane.

We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.

She grins at him, rubbing her nose. ”I grew up on a farm in the countryside,” she says, leaving the door slightly open as she follow him out. There’s a porch right in front of the door, where they’re standing right now, with a pair of wooden chairs. Mrs. Jane sits down on one of them, nodding at the other. He joins her, and she continues, ”When we moved here, I wanted to keep something. In the end, we went with the chickens.” GO0nac

”We?” Jordan asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

She answers, ”My late husband.” 

He winces, ducking his head slightly. Sebastian returns, then, from the lap he’d done around the garden. There isn’t a spare chair for him, so he simply jumps onto the porch’s railing and sits on it. Amazingly, the wood doesn’t even groan under his heavy weight. Jordan’s eyes are momentarily drawn to Sebastian’s muscles flexing as he maintains his balance, but he forces his eyes to move soon enough.

He clears his throat. Shaking his head a little, he refocuses on Mrs. Jane and asks, ”So how do you know Sebastian?”

Mrs. Jane laughs, her hands squeezing her knees as she leans forward. She grins at him, bright-eyed, as she says, ”We met about a month ago. He said he knew my husband, a blatant lie if I ever heard one, and tried to convince me I needed to let him secure the house against intruders. That it was my husbands’s wish.” She falls silent, then huffs on a laugh. Turning toward Sebastian, she says, ”He spent four hours out here, telling me increasingly ridiculous lies about my husband, to convince me they were best friends.”

She laughs louder, her mirth shining in her eyes. ”My husband has been dead for twenty years,” she snickers. She glances at Jordan, and nods her head to Sebastian, ”Isn’t he ridiculous? My husband was a politician, one simple search online and his date-of-death pops right up.”

Sebastian scowls, his pout adorable, and mutters, ”I forgot.” Mrs. Jane laughs louder, her eyes glittering. Jordan’s lips twitch into a smile.

Glancing at the chickens, walking silently around the fenced in area in the sunlight, Jordan looks at Sebastian. Sebastian has that far-off look in his eyes, and he’s staring around the backyard like its a monument to something that’s been lost. He’s not crying—Jordan is pretty sure he would freak out if Sebastian started crying. Possibly try to smother him in hugs and blankets and all the other things that Jordan feel better when he’s the one sad. h2rOAx

He huffs a little at those thoughts. ”So is this your plan, then?” Jordan asks Sebastian, nodding to the chickens. Mrs. Jane also turns to Sebastian, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Sebastian’s eyes lose that misty quality, and he blinks as he focuses on them. He clears his throat, shoulders drawing up a bit. ”Yes,” he says. He jumps down from the railing and walk over to them, looking down at them with sun lighting up his edges. He adds, ”But only a part of it. There are plenty of people in this city who each have small things like this. And when added together, it’ll be enough.”

”Enough to survive?” Jordan mutters, eyebrows drawing together.

Sebastian nods, face serious but starting to relax. ”Yes. I just have to make sure everyone is okay and reachable, and get everyone in touch with each other.” AvqoxL

Jordan bobs his head. He smiles at Sebastian, a blooming of quiet warmth unfurling within him. He blinks rapidly to throw off the strange wetness that is starting to gather in the corner of his eyes. ”That’s a good plan,” he says, unable to think of anything else.

Sebastian grins, his whole face lighting up. His smile is beautiful, the joy almost heartbreaking. Jordan has never seen him look so proud, or happy, or satisfied. It seems to radiate off him, seems to make the world around him brighter. It’s almost painful, to that have directed at him. Almost makes him want to turn away.

But he only laughs, a sound so full of relief that he would be embarrassed if the world hadn’t gone to shit, and grins back. Mrs. Jane is smiling, too, when he looks at her, a soft expression that makes her look years younger. And the sunlight is blinding, overpowering, when he looks out again at the yard.