Somewhere Only We Know - 24. Determination and Misunderstanding

The days in Riverbend had been warming and cooling in strange, uneven waves — warm afternoons followed by crisp evenings, the kind of seasonal in-between weather that made jackets feel unnecessary one hour and essential the next. Kitt adjusted to it because he adjusted to everything now. That was how survival worked.

He worked the breakfast shifts at Javier’s restaurant, taking the early morning rush of dishwashing, mopping, wiping down counters, whatever Javier needed. And in the afternoons he walked to the youth center, helping stack boxes, clean classrooms, and guide the younger kids through their tasks. It was exhausting, but not unbearable. It was the first version of a routine he’d had since leaving home.

He had even begun to eat better — a little better — thanks to Tom occasionally slipping him leftovers and Mateo dropping off food containers with casual excuses like “I made too much” or “the kitchen at Lavender Light messed up the order.” It wasn’t enough to make him feel full consistently, but it helped him stay upright, and in Riverbend, being upright was its own blessing.

He began studying again, too — quietly, secretly. He borrowed one of the study guides from the youth center’s shelf and spent nights reading through GED practice tests, trying to remember what math formulas looked like and how essays flowed. His mind was rusty, but not broken.

There were moments he felt proud of himself.
Moments he didn’t.

And one moment — one conversation — cracked everything open again.

It happened on a Tuesday evening at school, while Matt was sitting in the locker room after practice, toweling off sweat from his neck. The smell of chlorine floated faintly through the air from the opposite wing. The swim team had just finished practice, and the athletes were filing past the lockers, chatting loudly.

Matt didn’t look up at first. He didn’t think he needed to.

Then he heard it.

“Kinda weird today,” one of the swimmers said. “We stopped for food in Riverbend after the meet.”

“Yeah? That place with the blue awning?”

“No — the one by the alley. The Mexican place. Small. Greasy. But good.”

Matt froze.

He didn’t breathe.

“We were leaving,” the swimmer continued, “and I swear — I swear — I saw someone who looked like Kitt.”

Every muscle in Matt’s body locked.

He turned slowly. “What did you just say?”

The swimmer startled. “Uh… Everest? I didn’t mean—like, if it wasn’t him, sorry, dude.”

Matt stood so quickly the bench rattled. “Tell me everything.”

The boy swallowed. “I… don’t know. I was tossing my bag in the van, looked down the alley behind the restaurant, and saw a blond kid. He was taking trash out. Looked… kind of like him. But skinnier and his hair was a bit shaggy unlike the usual Kitt so I wasn’t sure. That’s all.”

“What restaurant?” Matt asked, voice too calm.

“The one with the red chili pepper painted on the sign. Javier’s, I think.”

Matt nodded once. A clean, sharp motion.

He didn’t sprint from the room. He didn’t panic. He didn’t shake. He didn’t shout.

He just breathed — deeply — as if the air he’d been craving for months finally reached his lungs.

He knew this was another chance.
Maybe false hope.
Maybe real.

But he wasn’t missing it.

He would go.

Not recklessly.
Not like before.

He would go with purpose.

He gathered his things and headed out of the locker room when a voice stopped him.

“Matt?” Lindsay stood at the doorway, hair tied back, worry stitched across her face. “Why do you look like you’re about to rob a bank?”

He hesitated. Lindsay waited with soft patience, the kind that made it hard to lie.

“I got a lead,” Matt finally said. “On Kitt.”

Her face changed instantly. Concern. Relief. Determination. “Where?”

“Riverbend.”

She nodded slowly… then crossed her arms. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“Linds—”

“No,” she said firmly. “You don’t get to shut me out. I know you. If I let you go alone, you’ll do something stupid like forget to eat or drive half-awake. I’m coming.”

“I don’t want you caught in—”

She grabbed his wrist. “I’m coming.”

He sighed — more a release of tension than annoyance — and nodded. “Fine. But we’re just going to check. Not storm the place.”

“Obviously.” She lifted her chin. “We’ll be subtle.”

Matt doubted her definition of “subtle,” but at this point he’d take any help.

They agreed to leave on Saturday morning, when neither of them had school and the drive wouldn’t feel rushed. The restaurant would be busy enough for them to blend in, but not packed to the point of chaos. Matt didn’t say it out loud, but Saturday mornings tugged at him with a strange sense of possibility. If Kitt was out there working, surviving, carving out some rhythm to his days, morning felt like the time he’d be doing it. Matt didn’t have proof — only instinct. But instinct was enough to turn hope into something he could chase.

And this time, Matt wasn’t spiraling.
He was steady.
Focused.
Determined.

He had a direction again.

. . .

On Saturday, Riverbend was warm for late October. The sun pressed hard against the pavement, but a steady breeze kept the air from feeling thick. Matt pulled into the small parking lot beside Javier’s restaurant just as the lunch rush began. The sign with the faded chili pepper swung gently above the door.

“It looks… cute,” Lindsay said as they stepped inside. “Homey.”

Matt didn’t hear her.
His heart was pounding too loudly.

The restaurant was short-staffed that day — two waiters, one cook visible through the small kitchen window, and Javier himself moving between orders. The air smelled like warm tortillas and grilled peppers.

A hostess led them to a table near the back.
They sat.
They ordered something small to avoid suspicion.

And then they waited.

Matt scanned every corner, every doorway, every flicker of movement. And when Javier shouted something in Spanish toward the kitchen, Matt felt his pulse spike.

He heard footsteps.
Soft. Familiar.
The rhythm of someone who always walked with quiet caution.

Matt lifted his head.

And in the narrow doorway of the kitchen — holding a tray, wearing a borrowed apron, breath caught halfway in his throat —

stood Kitt.

Kitt, older-looking.
Tired.

Dark circles under the eyes.
Thinner.
But Kitt.

He froze.

Matt froze.

The tray trembled in Kitt’s hands.

Lindsay looked between them, confusion breaking into shock. “Matt… isn’t that—”

But Kitt wasn’t listening.

He wasn’t hearing anything.

His eyes were locked on Matt’s — wide, terrified, disbelieving — and then they flicked briefly to Lindsay seated beside him.

And something shattered inside him.

He dropped the tray.

It hit the tile with a crash — silverware clattering, plates spinning, water splashing across the floor.

Someone shouted.
Javier cursed.
A few customers gasped.

But Kitt didn’t stay to see any of it.

He turned — stumbled — and ran through the kitchen door, disappearing before anyone could reach him.

Matt was out of his chair so fast he nearly knocked the table over.

He sprinted after him.

“Matt!” Lindsay called, scrambling after him.

Javier tried to block the kitchen entrance, shouting, “Staff only! Hey! Hey!”

But Matt didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
Not now.

He shoved through the swinging door just in time to see the back door slam open, a sliver of sunlight cutting across the floor.

“Kitt!” Matt yelled, breath cracking.

No answer.

Only footsteps — running — fading into the alley.

Matt chased.

For the first time in months, he wasn’t chasing hope, or shadows, or maybes.

He was chasing him.

His best friend.
His something-more.
The boy he’d been searching for since the night everything fell apart.

And Kitt was right there — close enough to touch.

Close enough to lose again.

The alley was bright with late-morning sun, a sharp contrast to the dim interior of the kitchen. His eyes adjusted in a painful rush. Trash bins. Stacked pallets. A long, narrow stretch of concrete running between buildings. And far down the alley, a figure sprinting, stumbling slightly, one hand pressed to his mouth as if holding in a sob.

“Kitt—wait!” Matt ran.

Kitt didn’t look back.
He couldn’t.
He didn’t dare.

His breaths came out in broken bursts, his shoulders tight, his whole body shaking as he ran. The world around him blurred — buildings, dumpsters, sunlight flashing off broken glass — but the sound of Matt’s footsteps did not.

Matt was faster.

“Kitt!” he called again, voice fraying. “Please!”

Kitt’s foot caught on a crack in the pavement. He stumbled, caught himself, and kept running, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. His vision blurred for a moment — tears mixing with sunlight, stinging.

He couldn’t do this.
Not now.
Not when Matt was with someone else.
Not when Lindsay was sitting at the table right beside him.

He wasn’t supposed to see Matt like this — dirty apron, shaking hands, barely scraping by, barely holding himself together. And he wasn’t supposed to see Matt with her, not when the sight sent a sharp, familiar ache through him that felt like the night he left home all over again.

“Kitt, stop!” Matt’s voice broke. “I’m not going to hurt you—just—please!”

Kitt turned a corner, thinking he could lose him in the narrow space behind the next building. But the alley dead-ended. A tall chain-link fence stood at the end, shadow slicing across the pavement.

Kitt stopped short.

His hands hit the fence.
His chest collapsed into a sob he couldn’t swallow.
He pressed his forehead to the metal, breath shaking in rapid, panicked bursts.

Footsteps slowed behind him.
Not pounding anymore.
Approaching carefully.

“Kitt…” Matt’s voice softened, so gentle it nearly undid Kitt completely.

Kitt squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, refusing to turn around. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Please, Matt… don’t.”

Matt froze a few feet away, afraid if he stepped closer the boy in front of him might break into dust and slip through the cracks of his fingers.

“You saw me,” Kitt said, voice shaking. “You weren’t supposed to see me.”

Matt swallowed. “I’ve been looking for you for months.”

“That’s why,” Kitt whispered, shoulders tight. “That’s why I didn’t want you to.”

Matt exhaled shakily, stepping one foot closer. “Kitt… I thought you were dead.”

Kitt’s breath hitched.

“I thought you froze somewhere,” Matt whispered, voice rough with ghosts. “Or got hit by a car on the highway. Or—God—something worse.” He stepped closer. Another foot. Two. “And then you were just there, in front of me, and—”

“Stop,” Kitt said. “Just stop, Matt.”

Matt stopped. Because even now, even broken, Kitt’s voice still had power over him.

After a long, shaking moment, Kitt spoke again. “Why were you here?”

Matt let out a breath that felt like it had been stuck in him since February. “Someone from the swim team thought they saw you. I knew it was a long shot. But I came anyway.”

Kitt’s grip on the fence loosened. “You came with Lindsay.”

Matt blinked. Realization dawned. “Kitt—she’s just a friend now. You know that.”

“I don’t know anything,” Kitt whispered. “I don’t know your life anymore.”

Matt’s chest tightened at the truth of that. He took another cautious step closer. “Then let me tell you.”

Kitt flinched. “I’m not ready.”

Matt stopped again. His restraint surprised even himself. Months ago he would have grabbed Kitt and dragged him into a hug until the world righted itself. Now he understood the fragility in front of him. The fear. The wounds. The distance.

“Kitt,” Matt said quietly, “I’m here because I love you.”

Kitt’s entire body went still.

The words rippled through the alley like a stone thrown into still water.

“I didn’t get to say it before,” Matt continued, breathing hard. “I should have. I should’ve told you every day since seventh grade. But I was scared. And stupid. And I didn’t understand anything about myself back then.”

Kitt’s knees buckled. He caught himself on the fence.

Matt stepped forward but didn’t reach for him — not yet. “When you left, everything fell apart. Everything except that one thing—that I love you. That hasn’t changed.”

Kitt turned his face just slightly, just enough that Matt could see the wetness on his cheek.

“You can’t say that,” Kitt whispered.

“It’s the only thing I can say,” Matt replied with tears.

Kitt shook his head. “You don’t know what my father said to me. You don’t know what he told me I was. You don’t know what I am now.”

Matt stepped close enough that he could hear Kitt’s trembling breaths but didn’t touch him. “Then tell me.”

“I’m nothing,” Kitt whispered. “I’m nobody. I’m just—working. Surviving. Trying not to be a burden to anyone. I can’t even go home. I have no place there.”

Matt’s breath caught. Pain burned behind his ribs. “You’re not nothing,” he said. “You’re the best part of everything I ever had. And you didn’t deserve any of what he said.”

Kitt’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Let me help you,” Matt said softly.

“You can’t,” Kitt whispered. “You can’t fix this. And if I go with you—if I let you close again—he’ll blame you. He’ll blame your family. I can’t do that to you.”

Matt swallowed the ache, the anger, the fury that rose inside him. “Kitt… I don’t care what he—”

“I care!” Kitt cried, finally turning around.

His eyes were wild with fear, wet with tears, lined with months of exhaustion. His apron was stained, his hair tousled, his cheeks flushed from running. Matt had imagined their reunion a thousand times, but never like this. Never so raw. Never so fragile.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Kitt said. “I’m not ready. I’m not—I can’t—everything is too much. All my life, I’ve only known what my father told me to do. This is the first time I’m making decisions by myself, and I don’t know what to do.”

Matt opened his mouth, but Kitt took a step back, shaking.

“I need time,” he whispered. “Please. Please give me that.”

Matt’s heart cracked, but he nodded — once, slowly — because loving Kitt meant giving him the thing he needed most, even if that thing tore Matt in half.

“Okay,” Matt whispered. “I’ll give you time.”

Kitt’s face crumpled. Relief. Sadness. Shame. Love. All tangled into something too heavy for him to carry.

“I’ll come back,” Matt added. “Not to force you. Just… to be around. In case you ever want to talk.”

Kitt pressed his back against the fence, breath trembling. “I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s okay.” Matt’s voice barely held together. “Just don’t disappear again.”

Kitt looked down. “I won’t.”

A beat.
A breath.
A trembling silence between them.

Then Javier’s voice shouted from the kitchen door, furious and echoing. “¡Kitt! ¿Dónde estás? ¡Regresa ahora mismo!”

Kitt flinched.

Matt stepped back. “Go,” he whispered.

Kitt hesitated, wiping his face with trembling hands. “Matt…”

“Yeah?” Matt asked, heart in his throat.

Kitt’s voice broke. “I missed you.”

And then — before Matt could answer — Kitt turned and ran, slipping through the back door and disappearing again.

But not into the unknown.

Not into the snow.

Not into the void of February.

He ran into a kitchen.
A job.
A town where he existed.
A place where Matt could return.

And Matt knew, with painful clarity,
this time, Kitt wasn’t running away from him —
he was running from the weight of finally being seen.

. . .

Kitt didn’t remember pushing through the back door.
He didn’t remember the shouting, the heat of the kitchen, the clatter of pans.
He didn’t remember the eyes — wide, confused, irritated — staring at him as he stumbled past.

All he remembered was the fence against his back
and Matt’s voice saying I love you
like it was the most natural truth in the world.

His knees nearly buckled again.

Javier’s voice came at him sharp as a slap.
“¡Kitt! ¿Qué demonios fue eso?”

Kitt blinked hard, trying to breathe. His chest was tight, his hands still shaking. “I—I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I didn’t mean—”

“You dropped an entire tray in the dining room!” Javier barked. “Right in front of customers. And then you disappeared? ¿Qué te pasa?”

Kitt opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
His throat felt thick, raw, like it might collapse around the words he wasn’t ready to say.

Javier stared at him, breath tight with frustration. But then his expression flickered — a realization, maybe — that whatever had happened was not the kind of mistake laziness or carelessness caused.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Javier muttered under his breath. “Sit.”

Kitt shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Javier pointed toward the corner stool near the prep counter. “Sit. Now.”

Kitt sat.

His vision blurred.

He wiped at his face quickly, trying to hide the tears before they fell again, but it was too late. One slipped down his cheek.

Javier sighed — not angrily this time. More tired. More human.

“¿Quieres agua?” he asked.

Kitt nodded.

Javier poured him a glass and set it in front of him. “Tómalo.”

Kitt’s hands trembled as he lifted it. He took a sip. It steadied him just enough to feel the crash beneath.

Javier leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Whatever happened out there, fix it. But not on my floor. You hear me?”

Kitt nodded again, small, shame heavy in his chest.

Javier’s tone softened a notch. “You’re a good worker. But if you need time, you take it. Don’t break yourself here.”

Kitt blinked hard to keep new tears from rising.

He didn’t deserve the kindness.
Not from Javier.
Not from anyone.

But he nodded again, swallowing tightly.

“Go,” Javier said finally. “Clean yourself up. Then come help with the drinks.”

Kitt pushed himself up, feeling the weight of the world pinning him from all sides. He walked toward the small restroom by the dry storage, closed the door, braced both hands on the sink, and looked up.

His reflection stared back.
Eyes red.
Hair messy.
Apron stained.
A boy whose life had cracked open in less than a minute.

He let out a sob — small, strangled — and covered his mouth to smother the sound.

He couldn’t believe he had seen Matt.
He couldn’t believe Matt had said those words.
He couldn’t believe Lindsay was sitting opposite him.

The tears came then — hard, hot, unstoppable.

He pressed his forehead to the cool mirror, breath shuddering so violently his shoulders shook.

He wasn’t ready.
He wasn’t strong enough.
And now Matt knew exactly where he was.

He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the tile floor, arms wrapped around his knees. His breaths came slowly, then faster, then slowly again as he tried to hold himself together.

He wanted Matt.
He wanted him so badly it hurt.

But his father’s voice still lived inside him like a knife.

You’re wrong.
You’re sinful.
You’re a disappointment.
You brought this upon us.

The memory twisted itself around Matt’s words until everything tangled painfully.

Kitt pressed his palms to his eyes.

He didn’t know how to hold both truths at once.

After a long time — maybe minutes, maybe more — he managed to stand, splash water on his face, and steady himself. He wasn’t okay. Not close. But he could survive the next hour.

He always survived the next hour.

. . .

Outside in the alley, Matt didn’t chase further once Kitt disappeared into the kitchen. He stood still for several seconds, heart pounding like he’d run miles, breath clouding faintly in the warming air.

Lindsay caught up to him a moment later, slightly breathless. “Matt, what happened—?”

He didn’t answer right away.

He couldn’t.

He leaned back against the brick wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground, elbows on his knees, hands pressed over his face.

He had seen Kitt.
Really seen him.

Alive.
Working.
Breathing.

But also terrified.

Something inside Matt cracked and mended at the same time, a painful, dizzying mixture.

Lindsay crouched beside him. “Matt… hey. Talk to me.”

Matt dropped his hands slowly. His face was raw, eyes bright with tears and emotion he didn’t bother hiding.

“He ran,” Matt whispered. “He saw me… and he ran.”

Lindsay swallowed. “Maybe he was overwhelmed. Maybe he didn’t expect—”

“He thought I was still with you.”

Lindsay’s eyes went soft. “Matt… I’m sorry.”

“He looked at me like I was everything he wanted and everything he couldn’t have.” His voice trembled. “And then he ran like I’d hurt him.”

Lindsay placed a careful hand on his arm. “You didn’t hurt him. He’s scared. Anyone could see that. Whatever he’s dealing with… it’s not you.”

“Then why won’t he let me help him?” Matt’s voice cracked.

“Because sometimes,” Lindsay said gently, “love doesn’t fix the damage. Time does.”

He closed his eyes.

After a moment, she added, “You’re going to come back here again, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Matt whispered. “But I won’t force him. I won’t push. I just… need him to know I’m here.”

Lindsay nodded with quiet understanding.

She stood and offered him a hand to help him up. He took it.

They walked back to the front of the restaurant in silence. Inside, the customers had already dismissed the tray incident. The world didn’t know something extraordinary had happened. The world didn’t know two boys had collided like meteors in the back alley behind Javier’s.

Matt paid for their untouched food, and they left.

The drive home was quiet. Lindsay watched him, worried but respectful. Matt stared out the passenger window, watching the scenery blur by, thinking about how close he’d been — and how far he still felt.

“Lindsay,” Matt finally broke the silence, voice still unsteady, “how long… have you known?”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. She didn’t look surprised. She only let out a slow breath, her expression gentle.

“Long enough,” she said softly.

Matt swallowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” she said, sitting beside him on the cool concrete, “I’m not stupid. And I’m not blind.” A small, sympathetic smile tugged at her lips. “When we were dating, you were kind to me. You really were. But whenever Kitt walked into a room? You changed. Your posture. Your voice. Your entire… everything.”

Matt blinked, stunned by the truth of it.

“And Kitt?” Lindsay continued. “He looked at you like… like someone looks at a place they wish they could stay in forever.” She paused, choosing her next words with care. “It didn’t feel romantic with us. Not really. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t there. Not the way it should be.”

Matt let out a shaky exhale. “You’re not… mad?”

“Mad?” Lindsay shook her head with a small laugh. “Matt, you think I’m going to be mad that you cared about someone else more deeply than you cared about me? It happens. And it wasn’t like you lied on purpose. You didn’t even know what you were feeling.” Her voice softened further. “You’re a good guy. And Kitt… Kitt always looked happiest when he was next to you.”

Matt stared at her, throat tight. “So you knew before I did.”

“Maybe,” she said gently. “But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And it wasn’t my story to push.”

He dropped his gaze to his hands. “I hurt him. Lindsay, I scared him so badly he dropped a tray and ran.”

“You didn’t scare him,” she corrected. “Life scared him. Whatever he’s been through… it’s not something you caused.”

Matt rubbed his face again, shoulders trembling with the weight of everything he’d seen, everything he’d failed to say.

Lindsay touched his arm lightly. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you found each other today. Even if it hurt. Even if it was messy. At least now you know he’s alive.”

Matt nodded, blinking hard. “I just… I love him. I’ve loved him for so long and I didn’t even realize how much until he wasn’t there.”

Lindsay’s expression softened into something warm, sad, and strangely proud. “Then be patient with him, Matt. He’s trying to survive something you can’t see yet.” She paused, then added with a faint smile, “And don’t worry—I’m not going to tell anyone. This is yours. His. Both of yours.”

Matt swallowed, gratitude hitting him so sharply his chest ached.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Lindsay squeezed his arm again. “Just… don’t break each other when you finally talk. Okay?”

He nodded slowly. For the first time since he saw Kitt in that alley, Matt felt just a little steadier—because someone finally understood, and she wasn’t angry, or hurt, or confused.

She was simply kind.

When they reached Lakehurst, Lindsay squeezed his hand once before he got out. “You’ll find the right way, Matt,” she said softly. “You always do.”

He nodded, eyes still distant.

He watched her car pull away.

The moment she turned the corner, Matt leaned back against his truck and let himself breathe — slow, shaky, grounding breaths.

Today had broken him.
Today had saved him.
Today had given him something he hadn’t had in eight months:

certainty.

Kitt was alive.
Kitt was here.
Kitt hadn’t pushed him away because he stopped caring — he pushed him away because he cared too much.

Matt wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie and whispered into the crisp October air:

“I’m not going anywhere, Kitt.”

And somewhere in the back room of a restaurant in Riverbend, sitting on the tile floor beside a mop bucket, Kitt whispered back — though he didn’t know why, or to whom, or how his voice found the strength:

“Please don’t.”