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"Is that everything?"
Aunt Mathilda stared at the luggage. "Don't forget your plane ticket, your driver's license, your college papers…"
"Triple-checked, Aunt Mathilda. Don't worry," Jupiter said, putting his carry-on bag on top of the luggage.
The Jones family living room was neat and quaint. Much like the salvage yard, odd trinkets were adorning the room, along with vintage paintings that Uncle Titus insisted were painted by pupils of Velázquez and Monet.
By the underused fireplace were pictures of Titus and Mathilda on their wedding day, and some pictures of them with Jupiter after he joined the family. At one corner were pictures of Jupiter as a baby, with his late parents.
Jupiter stared at that corner. He would miss this place, even though he didn't show it.
"We'll go once your uncle finishes locking up," she remarked. "Heavens to Betsy above! What is taking him so long?"
"That's quite alright," Jupiter chuckled. "We are very early. I might struggle with what to do at the airport later."
"Your brain will always find something," Aunt Mathilda remarked. "Just don't poke your nose into people's business and miss your flight!"
"I won't."
Jupiter gave a rueful smile.
Truth be told, after his falling out with Pete and Bob, his appetite for mysteries seemed to have diminished as well. He quickly distracted himself with another thought, fearing that thinking about Pete would make his symptoms show.
"I wonder if Uncle Titus needs help—"
His uncle walked in just in time.
"Phew!" the heavyset man said. "That padlock sure needs some oiling."
"I predict that you will need to change it very soon, as I have told you previously," Jupiter remarked.
"Of course, my boy," Uncle Titus patted his nephew's shoulder with pride. "Our scholar is braving the East Coast. We are fortunate that the weather is sunny today. You will miss the California sunshine."
Jupiter wondered if that were true. If possible, he would like to forget everything about California.
"Don't make me cry, Titus!" Aunt Mathilda exclaimed, then pulled Jupiter into a hug. "Write often. Call every week. We'll help you with the cost. If you don't like it, go home straight away."
Jupiter hesitated, then hugged back. A pang of guilt crept into his chest. He hadn't told them anything about his illness. He had prepared a big document that explained everything—including letters to Pete and Bob that would tell the whole truth.
But Jupiter couldn't bear the thought of getting weaker in front of his Aunt and Uncle as the illness would progress. How would that be better than them suddenly hearing the news of someone finding his dead body filled with flowers, Jupiter didn't know.
He didn't want to think anymore.
All he knew was he needed to get out of here.
Well, I'm holding on, yeah, I'm holding it all in
When it all goes wrong, you just can't win.
I can't stand another sunrise and I need a little rain
Well, the angels left this city and they won't be back again.
The road to the Los Angeles airport was surprisingly uncongested that afternoon. Jupiter was glad. He hated getting stuck in LA traffic. Big part of why he preferred getting around on his motorcycle, even though his aunt would protest about it every now and then.
He saw planes going in and out and wondered which direction his plane would take.
The ticket in his hand felt cold. The flight from LA to Boston would take around six hours. Jupiter sighed. He hoped he could spend a bulk of the time sleeping.
"Here we are, boy," Uncle Titus said as he parked at the drop-off zone. "Be careful with your bag."
Jupiter stood, observing the overhead signs and people. Old habits die hard. He might not be actively investigating anymore, but he'd still instinctively examine things in detail.
His mind wandered for a moment, eyes searching the distance. As if waiting for someone to appear.
Uncle Titus saw that.
"We still have time to call them," he said quietly.
Jupiter shook his head. "No. They… wouldn't be pleased."
His uncle was a shrewd man, and had a hard time believing that Jupiter had an irreparable falling out with his best friends. But Jupiter had been very private and defensive about it. So Titus didn't push further.
"…If you say so. Well," he said, opening his arms. Jupiter received the embrace readily this time. Aunt Mathilda joined the hug, already sniffling.
"Gosh, darn it! I promised not to cry today," Aunt Mathilda said.
Uncle Titus and Jupiter chuckled. They both knew that Mathilda Jones had too big a heart to keep that promise.
"Goodbye for now," Jupiter said solemnly, keeping a steady smile. "I will write."
He made determined steps forward, afraid that if he lingered longer he'd lose all resolve. He turned around for one last wave. Uncle Titus had one arm over his wife, patting her shoulder to comfort her.
Jupiter gulped.
I'm sorry.
Now I'm leaving California and I'll never look back.
I took a picture for you but I painted it black.
One more dream around a run away drive,
Now there's one less burned out star in the sky.
The shops at the airport were uninteresting. For a local like Jupiter, at least. He looked at the overpriced keychains and fridge magnets—it wouldn't take a detective to know how criminal the price hike was.
With a few hours to kill, Jupiter found a bench. He thought of taking out his Sherlock Holmes novel from his bag for yet another re-read. But before he could do that, his sharp eyes caught something in the distance.
He stared in disbelief.
Unless his eyes were tricking him, that was Pete Crenshaw and Bob Andrews.
Running, out of breath, eyes searching the crowd like madmen.
Jupiter knew what exactly they were looking for. Or rather, who.
He quickly gathered his items and hid behind the closest pillar—deducing that they would pass by where he was really soon.
And sure enough, almost immediately after Jupiter settled in his hiding place, he heard their frantic footsteps.
"Darn it!" Pete exclaimed. "Did he go already?"
"His flight shouldn't depart until later in the evening," Bob replied.
Jupiter's heart thumped in his chest. Could it be that they figured out his plan? Did they find out about him contracting Hanahaki Disease?
But it didn't seem the case.
He could hear both of them resting on the other side of that same pillar. Jupiter was almost holding his breath. He hoped he wouldn't suddenly have to cough.
"…I thought I could at least say a piece of my mind before he flies off," Pete muttered.
Bob laughed softly. "It was a spontaneous decision, huh? We were running like idiots."
"I don't know what I was expecting, though," Pete continued. "Not like he would suddenly become the old Jupiter."
"What did you want to say?" Bob asked.
"Eh. Something like, 'I hope you fail your studies and come back crying to us, asshole'."
Jupiter almost snorted. It took all of his self-control and training as an actor to remain as he was.
Bob laughed more freely. "Hah. I know you wouldn't really say that, Pete."
"Maybe I won't, but you will."
"Actually, that's true."
As they continued discussing, Jupiter realized how much he missed them. He wanted to just come out there and give them the tightest hug he could give them. But he couldn't. And he shouldn't. It would ruin everything he'd planned. It would ruin the new happiness that Bob and Pete had.
"…I miss Jupiter," Pete suddenly said, voice shaky. "Darn it, I mean—sorry, Bob. I want to be with you, and this doesn't change what we have now. But I—I wish I could just… ask him why."
"Hey," Bob said gently. "Don't feel guilty. I miss him too. A lot. I still believe that the old Jupiter is in there somewhere."
Jupiter felt a lump in his throat. He bit his lip, swallowing any urge to just jump out there and be with his best friends.
I'm here. Always here.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell them the truth. But as he remembered that Bob's life was at stake, he forced himself to calm down.
After what felt like a very long minute, Pete and Bob decided to continue searching the rest of the airport.
"If we don’t find him today," Pete said, "I'll save up to fly to Boston and search the whole city if I have to."
"And I'll be there with you," Bob stated, resolute.
Jupiter sighed in relief as he watched them go in the opposite direction from his gate. He quickly sneaked out and briskly walked to his waiting area. It would be much easier to hide from them once he reached.
I'm sorry, Bob.
Tears started to well in his eyes. He felt angry at himself. He did the most logical thing he could do. He shouldn't feel sad or hurt about it.
I'm sorry… Pete.
He felt a sudden sharp pain in his chest. He didn't have time to go to the restroom. He took out his handkerchief and bent down, coughing furiously. Some onlookers stared in concern, but he quickly indicated that he was alright.
Flower petals in his handkerchief. At least they didn't have bloodstains yet, Jupiter thought. But he wondered how long it would take. Would he last a year? Six months? Maybe even faster?
Jupiter knew that he felt things deeply and intensely. That's why he would rather deal with facts. Logic. Data. Things that could occupy his mind rather than let him deal with his stuffy and uncomfortable feelings.
But with Pete—so expressive, and warm, and sincere—he could embrace what he felt more honestly. For the first time in his life, he could just love someone and be loved without having to think or defend or justify anything.
Jupiter took a long breath and closed his eyes. Enough. He didn't regret his decision. He was the only one who could save Bob and give Pete a chance at happiness without him. He had to be the one who did this.
He entered his boarding gate, seeking a place where he could blend in with the crowd so that even if Pete and Bob passed by, they might not spot him.
But he didn't need to do that—he saw them on the far side, looking dejected. Pete's shoulders were slumped. Bob was giving him a pat on the back. Then they slowly walked toward the main entrance.
Jupiter leaned back in his seat. What a day.
He took his ticket out and stared at it. It still felt cold in his hand.
But there was a pang of warmth in his heart.
Pete and Bob came looking for him.
And that was enough.
I've got a one-way ticket, I'm a rolling stone,
I'm a goodbye kiss and then I'm going, going, gone.
Like wind, like fire, like rain,
Know I'm never coming back again.
'Cause I'm leaving California and I'll never look back.
I took a picture for you but I painted it black.
One more dream around a run away drive,
Now there's one less burned out star in the sky,
Leaving California,
Tonight.