Trigger Warning: Mentions of terrorism, loss of life, and grief.

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  Everything happened so quickly after, that my body was moving on autopilot. We left the airport in short order to go bae. On the way over, Dad dialed a few people to get information about the people who were on the flight. It’s alossible that Evan’s parents had missed their flight. Unfortunately, their phones were unreachable. Meanwhile, Evan was insoble.

  I wao make fake promises to him that everything would be alright or that his parents might be alive, but in my heart, I k would just dey the iable. The guilt and grief of the situation were gnawing at my bones. I could have prevehis tragedy had I tried to proactively think about future events. 9/11 was the defini of 2001, and I could have saved thousands of lives directly, and millions of lives ter on during the ‘War on Terror’ in the Middle East. Just one anonymous tip to the FBI or the CIA at the right time could have solved all that. Had I been a little more proactive, so many people would be alive today. Evan’s parents would be alive today.

  While we had no firmation of their deaths at the moment, there was slim to no ce of their survival. There were only two flights that flew from Boston to LA during that time, and while Evan didn’t know the flight hey were on, it was bound to be one of those flights. And if they were alright, they would have called us as soon as they got the news of the attack. But they didn’t, and that ged everything.

  As soon as we were home, Mum ran out to the driveway and engulfed Evan in a tight hug. I had seen him cry before, but this was beyond anything I could even imagine when he pletely broke down in my mother’s arms. My guilt renewed once again. The worst part was that I couldn’t even share this inner fliih someone else. I wao tell everything to someone else, but…

  (Break)

  I watched Evan across the room as he silently flipped through the els oV, his fingers moving meically, not really seeing anything. His blue eyes, usually so vibrant and full of curiosity, were now hollow, lost in a void of grief. He didn't say much these days, just small, necessary exges. I couldn't bme him. I didn't have the words either.

  He had insisted Dad book him a flight back to LA, or even New York, but Dad had sat him down and talked him out of it. The reason was simple, there were no remains of Evan’s parents yet to be found. While the authorities had firmed that John and Melinda Spader were on United Airlines Flight 175, they said that it may take a few weeks at least to get the remains of the people in the aircraft, which could eveend up to a month if their faces were nnizable easily.

  The September sun outside the window was deceptively bright, casting long shadows into the room. It felt wrong, all of it. The sunshihe peaceful hum of London, the normalcy of everything when nothing was normal anymore.

  “Evan,” I finally said, my voice barely more than a whisper. He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the boy who was my best friend before everything ged. "Do you... do you want to talk about it?"

  That was my biggest at the moment. Evan refused to talk to anyone about the tragedy. It’s like he had closed off all his emotions.

  He shrugged at my question, his shoulders sagging uhe weight of the world. "What's there to talk about? They're gone. Nothing will ge that."

  I bit my lip, struggling to find the right words. "I know it hurts. I 't even imagine how much, but... I'm here for you, okay? Whatever you need."

  Evan nodded, his eyes drifting back to the TV. The sileretched between us, heavy and oppressive. I wao say more, to fess the truth that g my insides. But how could I? How could I tell him that I could have prevented all of this? The thought alone made my stomach with nausea.

  “I miss them,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. “I didn't eveo say goodbye. And you know the worst part? We had this huge fight before I came here. They wanted me to e with them to Boston. Had I goh them, they would have stayed longer. Mom told me st week how they were ing up their meetings early only because I was here. Had I goh them, they would still be in Boston today…”

  I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak.

  Evan looked up at me with heated eyes. “This is all my fault. Had I not insisted on io London, they would be alive right now.”

  “You ’t bme yourself, Evan. It’s no one’s fault but those terrorists.”

  Evan's eyes locked onto mine, a spark of anger igniting in their depths. “I know that! They were good people who didn't deserve to die like that. Why did this happen, Troy? Why them?” A few tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “I don't know,” I said unfortably, the words bitter on my tongue. “I…don’t know.”

  “I know why!” Evan snarled heatedly. “It’s all because of those fug good-for-nothing terrorists! How I wish the gover would blow up their entire try—”

  “Evan!” I rebuked him firmly. “Don’t say that. You are better than them.”

  “I’m better than that? I’m better than that?” He stood up and stood over me imposingly. “How you say that? My parents are dead! They are never ing back. How you fug say that I’m better than them! If I could, I would blow up every piece of shit that fights for their invisible cause!”

  “Even if it means killing off everyone in that try?” I stood up myself. “Every child, every woman, every i person who had nothing to do with that attack, that was only pnned by a few?”

  “I never said that,” Evan backtracked.

  “You did,” I said bitterly. “How will you identify who is a terrorist and who is not? They won’t be wearing a uniform, or waving a fg saying so. Do you know what will happen when America retaliates? Millions of is will die. Not just that, because America is doing that, it wouldn’t even be called terrorism. They would call it liberating the civilians or something.”

  Evan fell ba his seat as if his strings were cut off. His shoulders started shaking, first slowly befradually he started sobbing untrolbly. I crouched beside him and engulfed him in a hug. For some reason, I had feared that he would push me away, but he didn’t. Instead, his sobbing got worse.

  “It was their 20th anniversary week,” Evan said iween his sobs. “Dad nning a big surprise for Mom. The st time I talked to him, he told me hoould prepare everything together. And now they’re gone and I’m all alone.”

  I rubbed his back softly, “Shush, I’m here, brother. I’ll always be here.”

  It took quite some time, but finally, Evan sobered up. As much as I could say that I uand his grief because of the loss of my own father, I ot. I had beeally prepared for his death for quite some time because of his illness. Evan was not.

  Evan turned back to the TV, the anger from earlier fading intned sadness. “Nothing makes sense anymore.” He wiped off his tears on the sleeve of his shirt.

  We sat in silehe only sound the soft drone of the news el Evan had settled on. They were still talking about the attacks, the heroes and the fallen, the different charities that had been opened for the victims of 9/11, the relief provided by the gover and private agencies, and so on.

  I sighed for the umpteenth time sihat day. I had accepted the fact that I couldn’t have really done anything about the issue at all. As much as I would have loved to be the hero and save all those people who died, I still don’t know for sure if my déjà vu would’ve worked given how unreliable it is. Even if it miraculously worked somehow, it is also possible that the anonymous warning may be traced bae. Given my age, all doubt would fall on my parents. I couldn’t let them gh the intense scrutiny that would have followed.

  So while I had accepted that, it would still not ge the fact that this was something that I may have to live with for the rest of my life. Any disastrous man-made or natural situation in the world that I remember and I would think if I could have preve.

  “When are you pnning to go back to the West End?” Evan asked out of the blue.

  “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. I had taken a few days off from [Billy Elliot] because it was too mue to face all those people. But it had already been a week, and my uudies were perf in my stead all this time. I know how much Evan appreciated not bei alo home. I ged the topic, “So Dad got in tact with your uncle?”

  “Yeah.” Evan immediately became serious. “Uncle offered me to stay with them until I grew up. So did your Dad.”

  “And?”

  Evan sighed, “I don’t know. Living with your family means living here in London, and going to live with my uncle would be…not pleasant. My uncle and cousin are alright, but I don’t like my aunt all that much. She doesn’t like me either.”

  “Then stay here,” I insisted. “Don’t think too much. I would love to have you as a brother for real.”

  Evan hummed nonittal, and I didn’t press the issue anymore.

  (Break)

  “Troy,” A few days ter, Dad interrupted Evan and me during our video game time. “We o talk.”

  I knew nothing good would e out of those words, yet I looked up from the s I was staring at and asked, “About?”

  “About [Billy Elliot]. What else do you think?”

  A topic I didn’t want to talk about at all.

  “I go out if you want?” Evan offered timidly as he put the troller down, ready to get up.

  “No,” Dad shook his head. “You are a part of our family now, Evan. You should hear this as well.”

  “But I haven’t even decided if I want to tinue living here full-time,” Evan argued weakly.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Dad smiled at him. “You’re always wele here.” Theuro me with a serious face. “Tomorrow, yoing to the studio to practice for [Billy Elliot], and you’ll begin perf the day after.” His tone made it clear that this was not up for discussion.

  I sat there, surprised by his tone. Never had he asked me to work when I didn’t want to. It was usually the other way around. So why this sudden ge?

  “What?” I asked eloquently.

  “You heard me,” Dad shot back. “I wao send you off today, but your mother talked me out of it. So tomorrow it is.”

  “But–”

  “No,” He cut me off. “You have made a itment to so many people including your director, chrapher, writer, and posers. All the cast and crew members of the musical are relying on you to market this musical. You probably don’t care if this fails, but think of everyone else. They are all relying on this musical. If it fails because you chose not to take it seriously, all of them would lose their jobs as well. I got a call from Stephen Daldry yesterday. He told me that the full-capacity revenue has fallen by 20% since you departed.”

  Dad knew just the buttons to push to make me feel guilty as hell. Twenty pert was a lot of revenue for a West End musical. Given how all my performao date were fully booked, 80% of revenue was still more than enough to keep us profitable when we go intur shows. That’s because when the seats remain vat before the show, they offer it at huge dists, sometimes even for free, so that more and more people see the shows. So the theater would be full, even now, but twenty pert of people would not be paying, or paying very little for the show.

  “I think you should go,” Evan said. “I would love to see you perfain.”

  I turo him sharply, “Really?”

  “Yeah,” He shrugged. “I’m mostly free at ho– here. Even if I were to resume my tutor csses, I would still have time in the evenings to see your show.”

  I hadn’t missed his little slip-up, but I didn’t call him out on it. Instead, I looked hesitantly from Evan to Dad, who looked happy with Evan’s support of the idea for me to go ba the stage. In the end, the decision was made for me. I would feel terrible if I was the reason that hundreds of people in London, and then in New York, lost their jobs because I rocrastinating.

  “Okay,” I said after some sideration. “I will do it.”

  Dad beamed at me, “Gd to hear that.” Theuro Evan with a flicted look on his face. “Son, I o know your decision now whether you want to stay here with us o to your uncle’s. Normally I wouldn’t rush it, but we o get you admitted to a school and file in paperwork for yuardianship with the authorities.”

  Evan didn’t take long before saying softly, “I want to stay here if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, I don’t,” Steve smiled at Evan. “Kathy always wanted multiple kids, and it would be nice for Troy to have a brother in the house.”

  “Shouldn’t we do a family hug now?” I joked.

  “Let your mother e back from the supermarket,” Dad deadpanned. “In the meantime, you go back to your video games.” Saying that, Dad exited the room, leaving Evan and me alone again.

  As we regained ame trollers, I couldn’t help but think about the ces in life. Had I not met Evan all those years ago in LA, would his parents still be alive? Or maybe Evan could’ve been on that ph them? Was there even a Spader family to begin with? Unfortunately, I had no way to find out.

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  AN: I have no iion to spark a political debate with this chapter. Peace.