I stare at him, shocked. Those are words that do not suit my dad at all. What is he even talking about?
He quickly looks away, embarrassed.
"Ah, never mind. What matters is that you two get along and that Alex so kindly wants to help you with school…"
He jumps to his feet and leaves quickly, avoiding my eyes.
It was strange, but I refuse to dwell on it.
It turns out my dad had a whole bunch of secrets buried in his past. Who knows what else is hiding in his head… but one thing’s for sure, mine is killing me right now.
I manage to pull out mydarkjournal from the drawer and write down what happened, what I felt when the Hansons beat me, and how, strangely, it numbed me a little.
I guess, it helped in some twisted way, one pain pushing out another. I close my eyes, my head throbbing, and despite all of it I let myself feel a quiet, guilty satisfaction.
More pain, more gain,I paraphrase.
Alex will be here tomorrow.
I glance at the circle of pillows around me. Well, it's quite cozy now; I can appreciate that.
Anyway, with Alex… everything is better. Even the pain tastes sweeter.
???
Over the next few days I wait for his visits with longing, for the moment when I see his small, bright face as he walks into my room with his pink backpack, big glasses, and a wide smile.
Of course, catching up on schoolwork is not the only thing we do. We also spend time just being together, and it is… so nice.
On one of his visits, Alex climbs onto my bed, sits next to me with his tablet in hand, and says, "Have you ever thought about a logo for your channel? I’ve been watching it, and it looks so bare. You know, a lot of artists have their own symbols, kind of like company logos."
I make a face. "It’s a tiny channel. I don’t know if that wouldn’t be overdoing it."
Alex pouts. "You’ve got to think big, be future-oriented. Don’t block yourself from the energy of expansion." He flashes a grin.
I chuckle and roll my eyes, but nod. "Okay, what do you suggest, smartass?"
He zones out for a moment, thinking. I watch him. That pillowy mouth and those cute glasses hiding his light eyes, oh, how much I love looking at Alex… I never get tired of it.
Then something clicks in my head.
"You know, my brother River used to call me an angel because of a drawing Snow made years ago. I once sketched this fallen angel with broken wings."
I reach into my drawer and pull out my sketchbook. It’s nothing impressive, but I scribble in it sometimes. Unfortunately, there are a few not-so-good sketches of Alex in there, so I have to open it discreetly to the right page so he won’t notice anything suspicious.
He leans over the sketch. "Wow, this looks good. Hold on, let me take a picture." He grabs his phone and snaps one. "Look, you can edit it here, sharpen it a bit with filters, add a red shadow," he murmurs, making changes as he goes. "Or an outline… wait a sec," he adds, still working.
Enchanted, I keep staring at him instead of the drawing.
Suddenly he asks, "River… which one of your brothers is that? I thought you had six, and I knew about all of them."
I frown. "I have seven brothers. The oldest one, an omega, ran away from home a few years ago. He cut ties with us. He left with a much older guy."
Alex snaps his head up, tearing his eyes away from the screen. "Whoa, that must’ve been hard on your parents."
"Yeah, Dad had a nervous breakdown. He keeps dreaming that River will come back someday."
Alex looks at me for a moment. "No surprise, every parent would. I’m sorry your family went through something like that. Maybe he’ll return one day. Life circumstances change. Were you two close?"
