The Tomorrow Trilogy Fanfiction - Forgiveness: Chapter 11
I don't even know anymore, guys. Also, I apparently made a new character. I like her, maybe she'll find a home somewhere else.
Previous chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
“Savin, wake up.”
I groan, rolling onto my stomach and being met with a warm body instead of an empty mattress. “Don’t wanna,” I grumble, my voice thick with sleep. I keep my eyes closed as I wrap my arms around him, nuzzling my face against his chest. “Five more minutes, Jazz...”
“Bates.” There’s a pained note to his voice -- and his voice is all wrong, too. Lower in pitch than normal, and smoother than normal, too. Almost like --
I snap my eyes open and look up, immediately scrambling away from Mitchel. “I’m up, I’m up,” I murmur, avoiding Mitchel’s eyes and feeling a guilty flush burn on my face. Despite how blurry his features are, I can see the hurt in his eyes as he, too, looks away from me. “What’s up?” I ask, clearing my throat as I rub my cheek with the palm of my hand.
“Your phone -- it’s been demanding your attention,” Mitchel says offhandedly, gesturing to my nightstand. He still refuses to look at me, a slight frown on his face. I turn away from him and pick up my phone, trying to get the image of his hurt expression out of my mind.
“Thanks.” I shove my glasses back over my eyes as I focus my attention on my phone. I breathe a sigh of relief. “The lockdown’s been lifted,” I say, frowning a bit myself. “The Guard wants to speak with me.”
“Clearly,” Mitchel snorts, sliding out from under the covers. “I will return to my apartment, then. I assume the Guard would prefer to have a private audience with their Emperor.”
“Mitchel...” I sigh, my hand tightening around my phone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean --”
“There’s no reason for you to apologize,” Mitchel says coolly, slipping his underwear back on over his hips. “The Guard should be here soon, correct?”
“Yes, but --”
“Then I’ll see myself out,” Mitchel continues, continuing to get dressed in a hurried fashion. His hands are a blur as they move along the buttons of his shirt. “You’ve made it quite clear that you were only looking to have someone help keep your bed warm.”
“The Guard doesn’t know where you’re at,” I growl, pushing my covers away as I, too, get out of bed. I follow his lead in getting dressed, slipping my boxers and pants back on as quickly as possible. “They wanted to speak to me about you. Now -- if you want to keep your name clear of any sort of shit that might get you thrown back in prison, you’ll stay here.”
Mitchel’s hands pause at the top button of his shirt, his frown deepening. “What are you talking about, Bates? Of course the Guard knows I’m with you -- they had to have seen us enter the Palace together earlier, hadn’t they?”
Bates. He keeps calling me Bates. I open my mouth to say something about it, but there’s a hurried knock on my apartment door. Growling in frustration, I throw my shirt over my shoulders and make my way to the living room, Mitchel not far behind me. The Guard shouldn’t be here already -- unless they were that close to my apartment when sending the notification?
As I swing the door open, the head Guard, Amelia Samson, stands before me, arms folded loosely in front of her. “Emperor Bates, I assume you received my message?” she asks.
“Yes, sorry -- I had pulled an allnighter and thought I’d get some sleep while the Palace was on lockdown,” I explain, stepping aside to let her in. She doesn’t hesitate, striding right inside my apartment.
Amelia is -- well, she’s something else. Her dark brown eyes and shortly cropped black hair blend right in with the rest of the Palace’s security team. Her eyes always look like they’re scanning their surroundings for any sign of trouble -- and maybe they always are, given the nature of her job. So when I see her raise an eyebrow, her gaze fixated somewhere behind me, it takes me a moment to remember she and I aren’t alone.
“Councilor Foraker,” she says, her tone clipped as she gives the man a stout nod. “For a moment, there, I believe we had lost you.”
“And you are...?” Mitchel asks, straightening the knot of his tie. He has an eyebrow raised, and there’s this unreadable expression on his face. He offers her his hand a moment later, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I apologize, I don’t believe we’ve ever been properly introduced...”
“Amelia,” she answers, not even lifting her hand. Her expression hardens, somewhat, as she turns back to me. “It might be best to inform the rest of your Guard that you’re seeing Councilor Foraker, Emperor Bates,” she says, folding her hands behind her back. “We had assumed the man would be in his own apartment, not here in yours.”
“We’re not --” I falter, noticing the dark look Mitchel gives me out of the corner of my eye. “I mean, it’s -- not what you think. Foraker was the one who warned me about the Resistance. He insisted we speak in private about it.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Amelia begins, her lips twitching with the slightest hint of a smile. “The two of you both emerged from your bedroom, your hair is in disarray, there’s a hicky or two forming on your neck, and you were limping. It’s quite obvious to anyone with a pair of functioning eyes what the two of you have been up to.”
“Like I said,” I begin, clearing my throat. My fingers fly to my neck, hiding wherever the hickies might be. Bastard. I didn’t think he left any marks. “We’re not -- really seeing each other. It’s -- complicated.”
“Now that we’ve settled that,” Mitchel murmurs, standing beside me. He slides his hands inside his pockets, no hint of annoyance on his expression, though the sidelong glance he gives me tells me otherwise. “Has the Guard discovered anything amiss?”
“We found a bug in your room, Foraker,” she says, turning her attention to him. “It was not placed there when we cleared the room for you, a couple of months back.” She then turns to me, her expression as equally controlled as Mitchel’s. “We have captured several suspicious men in the Council room, and have discovered a few more bugs in there, as well. Would you know anything about those bugs, Councilor?”
“They have been in place for months,” Mitchel answers smoothly. “They were placed there prior to Emperor Callahan’s death and, as far as I’m aware, are no longer active.”
“No longer active, you say?” Amelia asks, raising an eyebrow. “Were you the one to disable them?”
“I had them disabled, yes,” Mitchel says, and his lips form a thin line as he clenches his jaw, in the slightest. “I am aware that it may be difficult to trust my word -- but I am glad to hear that you found those bugs, Ms. Amelia.”
“Let me make this clear, Councilor,” Amelia starts, taking one measured step towards him. He blinks, the lack of distance between them making me uncomfortable, especially as she leans in close. When she speaks, it’s in a deadly whisper -- one that’s still loud enough for me to hear clearly. “It would be prudent for you to inform me of any other bugs, or any other information you may know of about the Resistance and their presence, in my Palace. While Emperor Bates may not be willing to throw you back in prison, I will be more than happy to do the honors, myself.”
Mitchel simply nods his head, his trademark smirk making its way across his features. “I assure you, Ms. Amelia, you will know everything that I do, from now on -- particularly if I get to report my information to you, directly.”
“Emperor Bates might prefer it if you reported the information to him, so he can relay it to me,” she says, stepping away from him. She gives me another stout nod. “Your Palace should be safe, now. I will go ahead and inform the rest of the Guard that you and Foraker are involved, so that if this happens again, we will know to ask if he is with you. Enjoy the rest of your day, Emperor Bates.”
“Thank you, Amelia,” I mutter, watching as she makes her way out of my apartment, her footsteps silent on my carpeted floor. I wait a few minutes before rounding on Mitchel. “You left marks?” I growl, glaring at him.
“You didn’t tell me not to,” Mitchel mutters, narrowing his eyes at me in return. “And if I recall, Bates, you seemed to quite enjoy the attention, at the time. You practically begged for me to take you. And now I wonder why that is, because it’s more than apparent you had no intention of taking this anywhere.”
My face burns and I look away from him, my hand falling away from my neck. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. “This is still so -- incredibly fucking new to me.”
“Well, let me make myself clear, Bates,” Mitchel says, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t quite meet my eyes as he speaks, but he does move in closer to me, anger radiating off him in waves, even if his expression doesn’t reflect it. “I don’t appreciate being used -- especially not after disclosing my loyalty to you. And if that’s what you’re intending to do -- spare me.”
“I didn’t --” I cut myself off, pinching the bridge of my nose and growling under my breath. “I’m not using you,” I start again, meeting his eyes. “That’s not fucking like me, okay?”
“Then why did you call me Jazz?” Mitchel counters, his frown deepening. “Why did you refuse to acknowledge our relationship to Amelia? Why do you insist there is nothing between us?”
“Because I don’t know what this is!” I cry, gesturing between the two of us. “We had sex -- once. And I called you Jazz because -- because --” I falter, my eyes stinging with tears. “I still love him, Mitchel. It’s -- I miss him. Every fucking day. And I was half asleep, and -- I thought you were him. I didn’t realize -- I’m sorry.”
Mitchel’s expression softens and he turns away from me. “I suppose I should apologize as well,” he says after a moment, smoothing down his tie. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be lucid upon waking.”
“It’s -- it’s alright,” I tell him, shaking my head and putting a hand to my forehead. I sigh and put a hand on my hip. “So -- are we -- okay?”
“I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘okay,’” he murmurs, approaching me. His eyes meet mine and an odd expression crosses his face. “I need to know where we stand, Bates.”
Despite him still referring to me by my last name, I don’t look away from him -- not even as I see the uncertainty in his eyes. Just a few minutes ago, he was borderline hitting on Amelia -- and I remember the vague feeling of unease that went through me when he did. It’s the same feeling I’m experiencing now, thinking that he still refuses to call me by my first name. “I don’t -- I don’t know where we stand, Mitchel,” I say quietly, brushing my loose hair out of my face. “This is all so fucking weird -- we hate each other, don’t we?”
“Perhaps we did, at one point,” Mitchel says with a shrug of his shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean feelings can’t change, does it?”
“No, I guess not,” I mumble, trying to ignore the way my heart pounds in my chest as he moves even closer to me. We can’t be much more than a foot apart, now, and my mind replays images of us in my bed, him on top of me. I drop my eyes to the floor and rub the back of my neck. “Look -- just tell me what it is you want from me.”
“What I want is quite simple,” Mitchel answers, his hands sliding up my chest over my shirt. He tugs me closer to him, and idiot me, I find myself doing exactly as he wants. “I want for you to trust me.”
My heart skips a beat in my chest. “You wouldn’t be on my Council if I didn’t,” I whisper, taking his hands in mine for a moment and pulling them away from me.
“That’s not what I meant,” Mitchel says, squeezing my fingers in return. “Let me put it in another way: give me a chance to prove myself to you, not just as a reformed citizen of your Empire, but as a lover.”
He doesn’t pull his hands away, and I don’t back away from him, either. “Mitchel -- do you think it’d even work, if we tried to -- to date? We’re so fucking different. Not to mention I’m the Emperor, and --”
He cuts me off, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close as he kisses me. I don’t hesitate in responding at all, my hands cupping the sides of his face as we stay like that, for just for a moment. “Stop overthinking things, Savin,” he whispers as he pulls away. “The only way we’d know for certain is if we tried, anyway.”
Can’t disagree with him there. “Alright. Let’s -- let’s try.”
The fact that Mitchel actually smiles before leaning in and kissing me again actually sends a warm shiver up my spine. As he deepens the kiss, I try not to think too hard about what Jazz might think about this, and instead let myself relax and enjoy the attention.
After all, this can only end badly, right?
Next Chapter
Previous chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
“Savin, wake up.”
I groan, rolling onto my stomach and being met with a warm body instead of an empty mattress. “Don’t wanna,” I grumble, my voice thick with sleep. I keep my eyes closed as I wrap my arms around him, nuzzling my face against his chest. “Five more minutes, Jazz...”
“Bates.” There’s a pained note to his voice -- and his voice is all wrong, too. Lower in pitch than normal, and smoother than normal, too. Almost like --
I snap my eyes open and look up, immediately scrambling away from Mitchel. “I’m up, I’m up,” I murmur, avoiding Mitchel’s eyes and feeling a guilty flush burn on my face. Despite how blurry his features are, I can see the hurt in his eyes as he, too, looks away from me. “What’s up?” I ask, clearing my throat as I rub my cheek with the palm of my hand.
“Your phone -- it’s been demanding your attention,” Mitchel says offhandedly, gesturing to my nightstand. He still refuses to look at me, a slight frown on his face. I turn away from him and pick up my phone, trying to get the image of his hurt expression out of my mind.
“Thanks.” I shove my glasses back over my eyes as I focus my attention on my phone. I breathe a sigh of relief. “The lockdown’s been lifted,” I say, frowning a bit myself. “The Guard wants to speak with me.”
“Clearly,” Mitchel snorts, sliding out from under the covers. “I will return to my apartment, then. I assume the Guard would prefer to have a private audience with their Emperor.”
“Mitchel...” I sigh, my hand tightening around my phone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean --”
“There’s no reason for you to apologize,” Mitchel says coolly, slipping his underwear back on over his hips. “The Guard should be here soon, correct?”
“Yes, but --”
“Then I’ll see myself out,” Mitchel continues, continuing to get dressed in a hurried fashion. His hands are a blur as they move along the buttons of his shirt. “You’ve made it quite clear that you were only looking to have someone help keep your bed warm.”
“The Guard doesn’t know where you’re at,” I growl, pushing my covers away as I, too, get out of bed. I follow his lead in getting dressed, slipping my boxers and pants back on as quickly as possible. “They wanted to speak to me about you. Now -- if you want to keep your name clear of any sort of shit that might get you thrown back in prison, you’ll stay here.”
Mitchel’s hands pause at the top button of his shirt, his frown deepening. “What are you talking about, Bates? Of course the Guard knows I’m with you -- they had to have seen us enter the Palace together earlier, hadn’t they?”
Bates. He keeps calling me Bates. I open my mouth to say something about it, but there’s a hurried knock on my apartment door. Growling in frustration, I throw my shirt over my shoulders and make my way to the living room, Mitchel not far behind me. The Guard shouldn’t be here already -- unless they were that close to my apartment when sending the notification?
As I swing the door open, the head Guard, Amelia Samson, stands before me, arms folded loosely in front of her. “Emperor Bates, I assume you received my message?” she asks.
“Yes, sorry -- I had pulled an allnighter and thought I’d get some sleep while the Palace was on lockdown,” I explain, stepping aside to let her in. She doesn’t hesitate, striding right inside my apartment.
Amelia is -- well, she’s something else. Her dark brown eyes and shortly cropped black hair blend right in with the rest of the Palace’s security team. Her eyes always look like they’re scanning their surroundings for any sign of trouble -- and maybe they always are, given the nature of her job. So when I see her raise an eyebrow, her gaze fixated somewhere behind me, it takes me a moment to remember she and I aren’t alone.
“Councilor Foraker,” she says, her tone clipped as she gives the man a stout nod. “For a moment, there, I believe we had lost you.”
“And you are...?” Mitchel asks, straightening the knot of his tie. He has an eyebrow raised, and there’s this unreadable expression on his face. He offers her his hand a moment later, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I apologize, I don’t believe we’ve ever been properly introduced...”
“Amelia,” she answers, not even lifting her hand. Her expression hardens, somewhat, as she turns back to me. “It might be best to inform the rest of your Guard that you’re seeing Councilor Foraker, Emperor Bates,” she says, folding her hands behind her back. “We had assumed the man would be in his own apartment, not here in yours.”
“We’re not --” I falter, noticing the dark look Mitchel gives me out of the corner of my eye. “I mean, it’s -- not what you think. Foraker was the one who warned me about the Resistance. He insisted we speak in private about it.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Amelia begins, her lips twitching with the slightest hint of a smile. “The two of you both emerged from your bedroom, your hair is in disarray, there’s a hicky or two forming on your neck, and you were limping. It’s quite obvious to anyone with a pair of functioning eyes what the two of you have been up to.”
“Like I said,” I begin, clearing my throat. My fingers fly to my neck, hiding wherever the hickies might be. Bastard. I didn’t think he left any marks. “We’re not -- really seeing each other. It’s -- complicated.”
“Now that we’ve settled that,” Mitchel murmurs, standing beside me. He slides his hands inside his pockets, no hint of annoyance on his expression, though the sidelong glance he gives me tells me otherwise. “Has the Guard discovered anything amiss?”
“We found a bug in your room, Foraker,” she says, turning her attention to him. “It was not placed there when we cleared the room for you, a couple of months back.” She then turns to me, her expression as equally controlled as Mitchel’s. “We have captured several suspicious men in the Council room, and have discovered a few more bugs in there, as well. Would you know anything about those bugs, Councilor?”
“They have been in place for months,” Mitchel answers smoothly. “They were placed there prior to Emperor Callahan’s death and, as far as I’m aware, are no longer active.”
“No longer active, you say?” Amelia asks, raising an eyebrow. “Were you the one to disable them?”
“I had them disabled, yes,” Mitchel says, and his lips form a thin line as he clenches his jaw, in the slightest. “I am aware that it may be difficult to trust my word -- but I am glad to hear that you found those bugs, Ms. Amelia.”
“Let me make this clear, Councilor,” Amelia starts, taking one measured step towards him. He blinks, the lack of distance between them making me uncomfortable, especially as she leans in close. When she speaks, it’s in a deadly whisper -- one that’s still loud enough for me to hear clearly. “It would be prudent for you to inform me of any other bugs, or any other information you may know of about the Resistance and their presence, in my Palace. While Emperor Bates may not be willing to throw you back in prison, I will be more than happy to do the honors, myself.”
Mitchel simply nods his head, his trademark smirk making its way across his features. “I assure you, Ms. Amelia, you will know everything that I do, from now on -- particularly if I get to report my information to you, directly.”
“Emperor Bates might prefer it if you reported the information to him, so he can relay it to me,” she says, stepping away from him. She gives me another stout nod. “Your Palace should be safe, now. I will go ahead and inform the rest of the Guard that you and Foraker are involved, so that if this happens again, we will know to ask if he is with you. Enjoy the rest of your day, Emperor Bates.”
“Thank you, Amelia,” I mutter, watching as she makes her way out of my apartment, her footsteps silent on my carpeted floor. I wait a few minutes before rounding on Mitchel. “You left marks?” I growl, glaring at him.
“You didn’t tell me not to,” Mitchel mutters, narrowing his eyes at me in return. “And if I recall, Bates, you seemed to quite enjoy the attention, at the time. You practically begged for me to take you. And now I wonder why that is, because it’s more than apparent you had no intention of taking this anywhere.”
My face burns and I look away from him, my hand falling away from my neck. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. “This is still so -- incredibly fucking new to me.”
“Well, let me make myself clear, Bates,” Mitchel says, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t quite meet my eyes as he speaks, but he does move in closer to me, anger radiating off him in waves, even if his expression doesn’t reflect it. “I don’t appreciate being used -- especially not after disclosing my loyalty to you. And if that’s what you’re intending to do -- spare me.”
“I didn’t --” I cut myself off, pinching the bridge of my nose and growling under my breath. “I’m not using you,” I start again, meeting his eyes. “That’s not fucking like me, okay?”
“Then why did you call me Jazz?” Mitchel counters, his frown deepening. “Why did you refuse to acknowledge our relationship to Amelia? Why do you insist there is nothing between us?”
“Because I don’t know what this is!” I cry, gesturing between the two of us. “We had sex -- once. And I called you Jazz because -- because --” I falter, my eyes stinging with tears. “I still love him, Mitchel. It’s -- I miss him. Every fucking day. And I was half asleep, and -- I thought you were him. I didn’t realize -- I’m sorry.”
Mitchel’s expression softens and he turns away from me. “I suppose I should apologize as well,” he says after a moment, smoothing down his tie. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be lucid upon waking.”
“It’s -- it’s alright,” I tell him, shaking my head and putting a hand to my forehead. I sigh and put a hand on my hip. “So -- are we -- okay?”
“I suppose that depends on your definition of ‘okay,’” he murmurs, approaching me. His eyes meet mine and an odd expression crosses his face. “I need to know where we stand, Bates.”
Despite him still referring to me by my last name, I don’t look away from him -- not even as I see the uncertainty in his eyes. Just a few minutes ago, he was borderline hitting on Amelia -- and I remember the vague feeling of unease that went through me when he did. It’s the same feeling I’m experiencing now, thinking that he still refuses to call me by my first name. “I don’t -- I don’t know where we stand, Mitchel,” I say quietly, brushing my loose hair out of my face. “This is all so fucking weird -- we hate each other, don’t we?”
“Perhaps we did, at one point,” Mitchel says with a shrug of his shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean feelings can’t change, does it?”
“No, I guess not,” I mumble, trying to ignore the way my heart pounds in my chest as he moves even closer to me. We can’t be much more than a foot apart, now, and my mind replays images of us in my bed, him on top of me. I drop my eyes to the floor and rub the back of my neck. “Look -- just tell me what it is you want from me.”
“What I want is quite simple,” Mitchel answers, his hands sliding up my chest over my shirt. He tugs me closer to him, and idiot me, I find myself doing exactly as he wants. “I want for you to trust me.”
My heart skips a beat in my chest. “You wouldn’t be on my Council if I didn’t,” I whisper, taking his hands in mine for a moment and pulling them away from me.
“That’s not what I meant,” Mitchel says, squeezing my fingers in return. “Let me put it in another way: give me a chance to prove myself to you, not just as a reformed citizen of your Empire, but as a lover.”
He doesn’t pull his hands away, and I don’t back away from him, either. “Mitchel -- do you think it’d even work, if we tried to -- to date? We’re so fucking different. Not to mention I’m the Emperor, and --”
He cuts me off, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close as he kisses me. I don’t hesitate in responding at all, my hands cupping the sides of his face as we stay like that, for just for a moment. “Stop overthinking things, Savin,” he whispers as he pulls away. “The only way we’d know for certain is if we tried, anyway.”
Can’t disagree with him there. “Alright. Let’s -- let’s try.”
The fact that Mitchel actually smiles before leaning in and kissing me again actually sends a warm shiver up my spine. As he deepens the kiss, I try not to think too hard about what Jazz might think about this, and instead let myself relax and enjoy the attention.
After all, this can only end badly, right?
Next Chapter