“Is that why you’re here?” There’s a bite to my words. “To make sure I don’t step out of line and hurt someone I shouldn’t?”
“We’re here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself,Rubenito,” Baal’s voice softens and my lips pull tightly into a thin line.
“Have you tried talking to him since?” he asks. “To Christian?”
My eyes darken. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Ever since you brought him back to the house, you’ve been… better. Why not try—”
“He’s not a medication I can take to keep me happy,” I snap.
The silence between us lasts only a moment before Aster interjects, “Is he getting better?”
My feet come to a stop.
“You’re making him see a doctor, aren’t you?” Aster wonders aloud. “How is it going?”
There’s a restless energy inside me that makes me shuffle my weight from foot to foot.
“… I don’t know,” I confess quietly.
Baal steps in front of me with tight brows, “… What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I don’t know.” If glares could kill, my brother would be flat on his ass, “The doctor can’t tell if he’s making progress.”
Baal’s energy is brimming with worry for me, but I can see pity there too.
I think I hate that the most.
“If that’s true, then it’s safe to say space isn’t working,” Aster blocks my path with narrowed eyes. “For either of you. You should go see him. Before he finds that place he’s looking for… and you can’t get him back.”
The last words hit me hardest.
They hit me because I know he’s right.
If a professional can’t get through to him… I might be the only one who can.
You can’t say I didn’t give you that space you wanted,estrellito.We tried it.
Now we’re going to do things my way.
And thank fuck, because any longer and I might’ve lost my mind.
Lucia’s place is an apartment in the city, about forty-five minutes from our estate. I know he’s there because I checked the cameras from my phone; he and Lucia are watching some bootleg movie tonight with the intention of ‘drinking themselves foolish’.
By the time I get there though, they’re both knocked out cold in front of Lucia’s TV.
Lightweights, the both of them.
Who gets drunk on white wine?
Before I can even fully plan the plan, I’m striding into the apartment complex. The elevator hasn’t been working the last few days, so I’m reduced to taking eight flights of stairs up to Lucia’s door, before finally hesitating in front of it.
Talking to a drunk and unconscious Christian doesn’t seem like a solid plan of action…
But at the same time, Aster’s words are there again in my ears, making me antsy.
I should’ve known this wouldn’t have worked. But you begged me so sincerely… I wanted to hope you’d get better. That you’d stop blaming yourself. That you’d realize you deserve to be happy—you deserve to live.
