smoke and mirrors | cassian / callum

A flash of light burns my closed eyes a bright red. The colors flow back and forth from the bottom of the bed, black, red, black, red. I drag my pillow out from under me, turning over on my stomach and covering my head between the pillow case and the bed frame.

Aithan likes to do this when he sleeps over. While I'm the night owl, he's the early bird. On the weekends, he wakes up at eight forty-five and starts pulling the bedroom curtains with his toes. I've come to believe that it's cute. The first sign of my twisting in the bed sheets is when he calls my name.

"Callum?'

Yes, you read that right.

"Cal."

(And yes, you read my name right, too.)

I turn my back to him, whimpering at the thought of getting out of bed before noon. Maybe Callum lucked out when we swapped places ten months ago. At least in the Detention Center, they don't care how late you stay up or sleep in. But no, in all seriousness, I don't mind it that much. Pretending to be uninterested in Aithan's shenanigans is part of the cat-and-mouse game. I curl myself further every time he chuckles or touches my back, whining and flinching as if he's a nuisance.

Once my knees meet the bottom of my chest, I hold still, cat ready to pounce on the mouse. Instead, I'm a snake and he's a little puppy. I start to turn, arms extended out until I flip and wrap myself around him, consuming both of us in the covers.

"Good morning!' Aithan lets out a content laugh as I kiss him on the cheek. "Maybe for you. I'm still in bedtime mode." I'm always the first to point out how corny couples walking down the cobblestone streets of the Town Square are, but when I'm alone, I think I simply envy them. This is my first relationship (for the record, I don't count the girl I hooked up with after the graffiti session as serious enough to be a relationship.) And in some twisted turn of denial, I can't even call it mine. Aithan is Callum's boyfriend, not Cassian's. I've kept our secret for ten months, mostly to save everyone else's skin if shit takes a turn for the worse. What if they find out, or what if Callum caves in and tells them that we switched places so I would avoid the slammer? If Mom and Dad were to know, they might crucify me and still wind up in trouble with the Peacekeepers. I'm Callum– always have been as far as everyone else is concerned. Good ol' Callum von Blaeu: smart, scholarly, got-everything-figured-out, gay Callum! Definitely not his deviant, half-assed, law-breaking, straight brother Cassian pretending to be him.

I breathe in next to Aithan's chest, the glow from Callum's spotless white bedding giving us just enough sunlight to look each other in the eyes. I don't want this to end! We've been dating longer than Callum was. Maybe if I tell him our secret under the covers, he just might pick me, Cassian, to stay with forever.

…or maybe he'll think I'm disgusting for playing a trick like that on him.

…or maybe he thinks it's hot and powerful that he's slept with twins.

…or he'll just leave both of us because keeping a secret like this is a breach of trust in any sort of relationship.

You know what? What he doesn't know can't hurt him. I hold the side of his cheek in my palm, rubbing the corner of his lip until he smiles. "Would it be so bad if we stayed in for a few more hours? What do you have to do today, anyway? It's a Saturday."

Aithan stammers through a response about routines and his parents worrying about where he is, but I collapse over him to show my dissatisfaction. "The routine should be me and you in here until… until," It's halfway through the sentence that I realize nothing is compelling enough to warrant leaving Aithan's side. I hold onto him, eyes shut yet again, winning out for at least another half hour.