The air was full of shouts and laughter as people weaved their way through the city centre. The city market was a week-long affair, a chance for the graduating citizens to relax - if only for a few days - before beginning their new lives. It was the one time a year the citizens were encouraged to show off their talents. Kyra had always wanted to type up her books and bind them in leather, how they did in the old world, but most of her pieces were written so she could let out her emotions, and weren't ready to be edited - much less ready for public consumption.

Each booth bombarded the senses with different colours and smells; from cinnamon to paint to wood to coffee. Children darted amongst the stalls, slipping through the smallest of gaps. Kyra envied them - they were young, happy, and free of burdens. The complete opposite of her. She'd woken up that morning with a tight knot in her stomach, and the weight of a citizen's free will on her shoulders.

What would controlling someone feel like? she wondered.

"See, this isn't so bad!"

Kyra jumped at the close proximity of the voice, the coffee cup warming her hands fumbling in her fingers. Clutching it to her chest, she turned away from the paint samples she had been examining and looked into the familiar grey eyes behind her.

"No, you're right mum. It's actually quite nice." Aside from the fact that every time someone's shoulder brushed hers she jumped.

Kyra contorted her lips into an awkward, toothless smile, the closest she could get to actual happiness. Kyra walked over to the next booth. It was stacked to the old tin roof with books; their cracked covers and yellowed pages gave away their age. "Did you really have to wake me up this early though?"

Getting up had not been a part of Kyra's plan. All she'd wanted to do was hide under the covers and pretend that everything was normal. It was better than thinking about the job she would be starting soon.

"You stayed in your room for a week. It was either now or never, sweetheart." Faye placed a hand on Kyra's back and steered her towards the next stall, something her daughter was grateful for; her love for books could have her stuck at that stall all day. "And I assumed you would be more likely to talk about your results here than at home in the silence."

"That's why we're here? So that you can bombard me with questions?" Kyra set her mug down with so much force that the whole stall wobbled. She shot the owner a glance and murmured, "Sorry, sir."

Faye passed Kyra her cup. "Partly. I just want to make sure you're okay. The Controllers... they're a handful. I've only met one of them, and even on his own he was intimidating."

"Even to someone like you?"

"Most especially to someone like me. I may be able to hold spiders and stitch up open wounds, but I'm no match for the Controllers."

Kyra laughed despite herself and rocked back on her heels, unsure of what emotion she felt. She wished her mother could stick to one personality; it would make being mad at her a whole lot easier if she knew which side she was talking to. "What was the other reason you brought me here?"

Faye smiled as she dug her hands deep into her pockets, rocking back and forth on her heels. "Asking takes all of the fun out of it."

Kyra raised a brow. "You know I don't like surprises, can you please just-"

"Kyra?"

Kyra span around and smacked into a hard wall of warmth.  James latched onto her arm before she could stumble.

"Sorry," she murmured, looking up at him through her lashes. She stepped backwards, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. It was strange to think that only a week ago she had felt comfortable in his presence. But now her palms were shaking, her skin was covered in a light layer of sweat, and she over-analysed everything, from the way she held herself to the ponytail she'd thrown her hair into that morning. It wasn't a nice feeling, or a welcome one.

"So you're alive then."

Kyra rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't come and see you, I was just-"

"Dealing with things," he finished, rocking forwards on his toes. "It's okay, I get it. I had some stuff to deal with too. Ashley's still missing."

She reached out to touch his arm, but let her hand fall halfway between them. "I'm sorry, I should have been there."

"It's fine Kyra, really. I didn't know you were coming today." The look on his face made Kyra believe he had hoped she wouldn't, but it disappeared in a blink.

"Yeah, we were just-" she turned to find her mother nowhere in sight "-doing nothing, apparently." She stood on her tiptoes, searching for the familiar dark hair and grey eyes, but failed to see past the protean wall of people.

James pursed his lips to hide a smile. "Sorry about before. Did I scare you?"

"No, but your outfit did." Kyra smiled up at him and reached out to tug on his dark jacket. James was like a beacon, dressed all in black except for the golden locks atop his head and the grey shirt hugging his chest. "In that ensemble I'm surprised they can't see you from space."

Be kind, Citizen.

"Hey now, it's a sad day," James said. Kyra inhaled sharply, readying herself for whatever he was going to say next. She silently hoped he would bring up yesterday so that she wouldn't have to, but he surprised her. "You grew a few inches."

"Or maybe you shrunk a few." Kyra turned her back on him and walked to the next booth. Over her shoulder she called, "I've heard having a big head does that."

Apologise, Citizen.

"Easy there Jackson, you might get a migraine from all that banter." James smirked and stepped forward, keeping his hands clasped behind his back. "Besides, I pull this look off."

Kyra snorted and turned towards him with a brow raised. "Oh really? Prove it."

James' smile faltered for a moment as he moved his hair out of his eyes. "How about this: you grab some art supplies and paint me. Then my attractiveness will be passed down through the ages."

Kyra shook her head and shuffled over to the next booth. It was covered in art brushes, each with a different shape, size and purpose. She stared at them, thinking about how she had absolutely no clue how to use them, as she waited for the thumping in her chest to slow.

"They wouldn't have enough black ink in the world."

"I believe you're talented enough to make it work." James, who knew Kyra had trouble doing anything art related, kept a surprisingly straight face as she glared at him. He sauntered over and leaned against the stall. Without looking he reached behind him and selected a large fluffy brush. He pulled it to his chest and ran his fingers over the top. "And if not, we can use grey."

"No way." Kyra slipped the brush out of James' fingers and placed it back on the table. "If I'm going to paint you, I'm doing it in full detail. That way our kids will know they got their good looks from me."

The silence that followed her words was almost deafening. If it weren't for a sharp intake of breath, Kyra would have believed James was gone. That would have made it easier to talk. Running a hand through her hair, she turned to face him, forcing herself to look into his eyes. As she reached out to touch him he stepped backwards, just out of reach. He looked down so that shadows concealed his face, but it didn't hide his clenched fists or taut jaw.

"I'm sorry. I-I should have guessed you wouldn't want to talk about it, not with everything else going on." Kyra toyed with the edge of the cloth that covered the stall, pulling at the frays.

"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice held no bitterness or anger - or any emotion, really - but she still flinched.

"Your sister, your parents, your fate - that's a lot of crazy for one person to handle."

"Have I ever struggled to cope before?" James looked up, fixing Kyra with his piercing blue gaze.

"Do you want me to answer that honestly?" Kyra stepped forward, arms crossed against her chest as she closed the distance between them. "Because sometimes you do struggle, James, and that's okay. Having emotions doesn't make you any less brave, or rebellious, or whatever it is that you try to be. You don't have to put up a facade twenty-four seven."

A look flickered across James' face. One she had only seen on rare occasions, such as the time his mother had told the pair of them a joke. Kyra could only sum it up into one, vague word: amazement.

James ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. "I can't talk about us at the moment; it only hit me this morning and that's why I was... I don't know, afraid, I think, to see you. I don't want to mess this up, so I have to take time to think, work out where my head's at. I'll be ready one day, but not now, not yet."

"'Maybe' is good enough for me. It isn't a big deal, really. I mean, I'm just going to stick out the year and retake the test anyway. Hopefully-"

"What are they like?"

"What?" Kyra looked up, caught off guard by the question.

"The Controllers," James said, taking a tentative step forward. "What are they like?"

Choose your words carefully, Citizen.

Kyra opened her mouth to speak but closed it again just as quick. An Enforcer was walking amongst the stalls behind James. The mere sight of him made Kyra feel wrong, though why she wasn't sure. She couldn't see his features, but knowing he was close enough to overhear them made her stomach churn.

"Let's get out of here." Kyra grabbed James' arm and led him through a gap in the stalls. She couldn't talk about her fate in front of an Enforcer. But then she remembered: James was an Enforcer, or would be soon enough. The thought made her speed up.

The stalls of the market took up half of the road that surrounded the city square on every side. An odd silence had settled on the empty part of the road, away from the thick crowds and the stalls. Any noise sounded distant, but the action was still insight, close enough to touch.

"Whoa Kyra, slow down." James pulled her to a stop. Despite the seriousness of his words, there was a hint of delight in his voice, something he only got when he was excited. "Where are we going?"

Kyra didn't have a clue, she just knew she wanted to talk to James. Really talk to him, without worrying about who was listening in.

She glanced up at the school, at the old bricks that looked as good as new, the windows that were always open, and the white paint breaking up the orange hue. Next to the colossal building they were ants, but it was nothing compared to the towers behind it. A pathway suspended in the air connected it to the university across the street, where most of the citizens in her year would start training for their jobs tomorrow.

"Do you remember the day your grandfather died?" Kyra asked, pulling her attention back to James.

"Of course."

"So you remember that you didn't go home, you didn't go to the hospital, and you didn't go to see your family. You pulled me out of class and dragged me to the top floor of the school, to the path that joins the two buildings. And you said that if I ever needed to talk to you, that was the place to do it because-"

"-the wind drowns out all the voices in your head. No one can hear you." In other words, something about that spot made the bracelets connection faulty. James wiggled his brows and backed towards the school as he said, "Well, it looks pretty windy today."

Grinning, Kyra held James' gaze. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were challenging me to a race."

Kyra shoved James backwards as she took off, zigzagging through the sparse crowd towards the wide school doors, her friend close behind. The hinges squeaked as they swung open and admitted them into the shadowy foyer. What had once been a deafening silence was broken by their pounding footsteps as they clambered up the cruel, grey staircase.

Kyra loved running. She loved the freedom of it, the feeling of her hair flying backwards and the oxygen pumping in and out of her body. She loved moving and dodging and jumping, using muscles she normally wouldn't. Aside from laughing so hard she forget her own name, it was the only time she felt truly free from her thoughts.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, they turned this way and that, heading along a path they'd taken far too many times before. She skidded around a corner, boots sliding on the slippery floor as she avoided colliding with a 'wet floor' sign. James took advantage of Kyra's weak moment and ran ahead of her, towards a staircase at the end of the hall.

James ran on angles to cut off Kyra's attempts to pass him. As he moved to the left, she rushed forward, ducking under the arm he threw out to catch her. At the last second his arm snuck around her waist, swinging her through the air and depositing her on the ground behind him.

"Sorry Jackson!" He whipped around and shot her a grin.

With a scoff, she shook her head and took off. Kyra dashed up the staircase, ignoring the aching in her thighs as she gripped the handrail for dear life. James faltered and tripped on a step, but quickly regained his footing. Kyra's fingertips brushed his back, trying to grab onto him as she ran, but he was too far ahead - and far too practiced, for that matter. He was on the school running team, after all.

With burning lungs, Kyra collapsed against the doors as they began to swing back and stumbled to James' side. Wind rushed at her like a tsunami, and she gulped it in as she fell to her knees, letting out a breathy laugh. James fell beside her, using the wall of the pathway for support. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths in, clutching his chest.

"We are never... too old... for a race." James spoke in between measured breaths.

They stayed on the ground like that for several minutes, side-by-side, waiting for their heart rates to slow.

"Why don't you run anymore?" he asked.

Kyra shrugged. "Mum made me stop. It was fine when I was a kid, when the distances were shorter. But then the races were longer and asthma sort of took over. It was safer to stop."

James nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose."

Silence fell again, and neither of them dared to break it. There was nothing to say, after all. After what seemed like hours James clambered to his feet and looked around, the grey clouds contrasting with his golden hair.

"I love this place," he said, eyes set on something in the distance. "It's one of the five places in the city where the bracelets don't work."

"How do you know that?" Kyra asked with a frown. He seemed to know everything about the city, details a regular citizen shouldn't have access to.

James raised a brow and crossed his arms. "We came up here so that you could talk, not me."

Kyra sighed and got to her feet, pacing back and forth as she spoke. "I don't know what to say. My results... they were a shock. Getting you, I could handle."

"Keep sweet talking like that and I might have to start the process of reproduction early."

Kyra choked on a laugh and continued as though he hadn't said anything. "But being a controller? That's just... I never saw myself becoming one of them. I always thought of them like a myth, something that couldn't really exist, something a citizen had just thought up one day to scare their kids into behaving. But knowing someone is behind each command, watching our every move, it just... it makes me feel-"

"Violated? Disturbed? Mentally assaulted?" James moved across the path and leaned against the half brick wall next to her. He rested his head against the column, which held up the grey roof above them. "I know what you mean. I didn't exactly ask to become an Enforcer. We're in the same boat, I suppose."

"Pretty much. Both are terrible jobs."

James nodded. "So how come everytime I mention the Controllers you look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Well, now that I've interacted with them, I know not all of them are bad. But... I just, I don't think I could ever look my Controller in the eye, not now that I know... They must know all about me - my hobbies, my facial expressions, my quirks. Everything. You'd think they'd have better things to do than get to know an eighteen-year-old girl."

"I don't know. Keeping tabs on you twenty-four seven is a tad extreme, too stalker crazy for my tastes. But I think you're pretty interesting, enough to keep me around for this long, and we both know I don't have a long attention span."

At this Kyra turned her head to face him. Her lips were caught somewhere between a frown and grin, but she settled for a small smile. "Keep sweet talking like that and I might have to start the process of reproduction early."

James laughed and held her gaze unblinkingly, hazel eyes on blue. There was just something about him, about the sharpness of his canines, the uneven brows, and the way his smile was slightly lopsided that mesmerised her. He was in no way perfect, and that's what she liked about him.

A faint buzzing sound pulled her out of her reverie. As James turned and pulled something out of his pocket, she raised a hand to hide the blush on her cheeks; she was sure her face was scarlet, but all she could do to hide it was conceal it behind her fingers.

"I'm sorry I have to go. My parents are actually home for once and want to know whether I'm alive or not." James ducked down and kissed her forehead. It was fleeting, and by the time Kyra registered what had happened, James was already gone. Warmth rushed from the spot his lips had touched her, spreading downwards until it joined the blush that had just begun to leave her cheeks.

"This place is super weird."

Kyra whipped around. The doors had opened so silently she hadn't noticed him, not until he reached her side. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribcage. 

It was Ethan.

He smiled. "Your training is about to begin."

— author's note —

Hey! How's everyone doing?

What did you think about the character development in this chapter? And what do you think Kyra's training will be? Let me know your thoughts!

I'm thinking about posting two chapters per week. Thoughts?

Again, thank you so so so much for reading! It honestly makes my day every time I see your familiar usernames in my notifications haha your votes and comments mean the world to me. You guys are the best!