“Yeah. I know you’re right, but I worry it’s too soon.”
“Does it feel too soon? To you or him?”
I thought about it for a moment. Every conversationwe’d had, every touch of our skin, every morning waking up with Elio wrapped around me. “No. No, I don’t think it does.”
Mom leaned her head on my shoulder, wrapping an arm around me. “Then it probably isn’t, son. Let the universe decide how things are supposed to go. If it feels right, that’s the universe agreeing with you.”
The universe. Soulmates. Love. They all had something in common—they were built on hope in some way. I hoped I was right. I hoped I was doing the right thing. I hoped that trusting my gut would lead us in the right direction.
In the end, despite the constant trail of dark souls following me, loving the sunshine of Elio’s was the easiest thing I’d ever done. And I was never going to give up on that.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Without Crescent by my side,the hallway and stairs were much darker—more oppressive. Each step creaked beneath my feet, groaning under the pressure. I could almost hear the shuffle and shake of each dust particle that covered the trimming. They called to me in unrecognizable voices. I wanted to listen to each one, hear what they had to say, but I also didn’t at the same time.
What if they were angry? The ghosts of our memories together. The ones within the walls, permeating into the floorboards, sweeping across the ceiling.
Seeing the house I’d grown to call home was terrifying. Nostalgic and heartwarming, but terrifying. I wasn’t sure how welcome I was anymore. How easily the very wood that made up the house would take me back in.
I slid my hand along the stair railing all the way up, letting my palm read the grains beneath it. There werephotographs and decorations hung on the hallway wall, and a metal piece with a moon, star, and sun hanging right before the bedrooms began.
My feet stopped just before my old room. I stared at the wooden door, trying to decide if I wanted to psych myself into going inside or just psych myself out. There was no right answer, or even one that might’ve made the most sense. I had no choices to weigh. Had they gutted it—the room I used to consider my sanctuary? Or did my soul still exist in there? At least the part of it I left with the Millers.
There were at least a hundred nights when I’d be painting, or lying in bed, or sitting at my desk trying to finish homework, and I’d get a knock at my door. I could always tell when it was Crescent. He had a soft knock—a short rapping of his knuckles, never too hard or loud. I’d open the door for him, and he’d immediately walk past me, going straight for my bed or my desk chair, depending on where I was at the time. We’d either talk until we were too tired to, or sit in silence doing our own thing.
I missed those nights with all my heart. I was glad that now, we could share the same bed, cuddled next to each other or on top of each other without an ounce of awkwardness or shame. Just care and devotion. Pure fucking care and devotion.
Turning the knob felt like rewinding my life, back to years when nothing was horrible and everything had meaning. The door groaned as it opened, and the scent of sandalwood hit me right in the face, almost burning my nostrils. Everything was dark, but I could still see it.
An easel was right in the middle of the room, a canvasstill placed in it. I knew it was blank. I’d set it up, only to never even start on it. Not a single stroke of a pencil for an outline or a swipe of my brush. I’d abandoned it and the idea in my head, keeping it in the last place I’d found happiness.
I felt around on the side, flipping the light switch. The overhead beams were bright, shining down on me as if I were something to be presented and seen. I stood in awe.
If anything, it would’ve made sense if things had stayed right where they’d been left, much like the easel and canvas. But everything seemed to have been moved at least once. The blankets on what used to be my bed were shifted from one side to the other, and the figurines on my desk had dust-free spots right beside them, despite everything else being covered. Someone had held my things in their hands recently.
Someone had missed me. It would’ve been so easy to throw everything out, but they hadn’t. It would’ve been so easy to condemn the room to memories, like a time capsule of years gone by, but they hadn’t. Someone had loved me.
Lovesme.
The thought brought tears to my eyes. I held them back, refusing to let them fall. Walking farther into the room, I stopped in front of the closet. I opened it, looking right at the top shelf.
Paints of every color, brushes of every kind, and an array of different-sized paint palettes sat there. I read the labels of each one, remembering the specific times I’d used them in the past. Which painting, which scene, which feeling had sat in my chest when I used them. My fingertips ached to reach for them, despite knowing they’d be useless now.
A decade left things cracked, dried, and ugly. Like myheart. Like the wings between my shoulder blades that screamed and begged to come back to life.
Shaking my head, I closed the closet door. I needed to get to Crescent’s room before he came back. It hurt to part with the life I had lived before, but it hurt even more to stay in it.
Turning off the lights and shutting my old bedroom door was like pressing play on my life. Suddenly, I was in a new world, with a mission or task I was always meant to complete. I made the short walk to Crescent’s bedroom, finding myself stuck in front of that door as well.
Would I ever feel free to open these portals to my past? Maybe this was a punishment for the years I’d wasted on a man who’d never truly loved me in the first place.
Crescent’s room also smelled of sandalwood. It was just as strong and just as nostalgic. His room had changed with his age; the old posters that used to line the walls were no longer there. The bedsheets and blankets on his bed were a sensible gray and dark blue. We all had desks in our bedrooms and suncatchers in our windows, thanks to Crescent’s parents. His suncatcher was a beautiful stained glass crescent moon, ready to throw the room into a gorgeous rainbow.
Fuck, I’d missed this place.
I picked up my bag from the floor, grabbing a comfortable T-shirt and shorts to change into. I closed the door behind me, stripping my clothes off in between staring at the new decorations on his desk.
A pencil holder sat in the corner with sunflowers all around it. There wasOne Piecemerchandise lined up where the desk met the wall. A single lamp sat in the other corner—a simple black one, plugged into the wall beside it. It made me smile, seeing how his tastes had evolved over the years, even though his heart had stayed the same.
