He was kneeling in front of him, hands cupping the boy’s face with a tenderness that didn’t match his age. His forehead rested against the boy’s, eyes closed, like he was trying to breathe calmly into him.
And on Evander’s cheek was a fresh scratch. Thin, but catchable in the camera lens.
“You were upset at me for getting in a fight with a friend. You were beside yourself, afraid I was going to die from a tiny little scratch I got. My friend at the time thought I was stupid for wanting to hang out with akidinstead of him. So, I punched him, and he tackled me to the ground.”
The words were spoken half fondly, half sad, like he’d do it again in a heartbeat if given the chance.
Evander slid the picture to the bottom of the stack, revealing the next one.
This one was bright. Not in color but feeling alone.
The boy, a bit younger than the others, was laughing. Head tipped back, eyes squinted shut, mouth open in a grin so wide it looked like it belonged to a child who never known fear. His cheeks were flushed, hair sticking up in every direction like he’d been outside for hours, sweaty from the heat.
He was holding a small grasp of blue flowers in his right hand.
The next photo was almost the exact same, except for the boy’s bright blue eyes looking right at the camera, a wide smile and a dusting of freckles on his nose.
“I got a new camera, and you insisted I had to have some shots of you first. But you were a menace and didn’t want to pose. More interested in picking every blue flower you saw.” ?
“Because it matched my eyes.” I whispered the words, not realizing they snuck out. I was more focused on keeping my hands to myself, desperate to snatch the pile of pictures from Evander.
“That’s right." I glanced up, seeing his brown ones looking at me with hope and fear mixed together. “You always had to pick the blue ones.”
Chapter 23
Evander
Kasey stared at the photos, eyes flicking over every inch of them.
He’d been so much smaller then. So bright and so unguarded. So happy without the world hanging on his shoulders.
Now he stood in my bedroom, wrapped in my blanket, looking at a version of himself he couldn’t remember, and I didn’t know whether to be grateful he’d followed me or terrified of what this might do to him.
I slid my thumb along the edge of the picture, careful not to touch the surface. I’ve kept these safe for years. Some of them I took myself, some our parents.
I will never forget the sound of Kasey’s laughter that day when he failed to stay still. He never stopped moving, not even for something he wanted.
I remembered how light he felt when I lifted him on my shoulders so he could reach a particular leaf from a tree.
And now he is here. Older. Hurt. Lost. But still him.
Still the boy who had trusted me once.
I couldn’t hide the fact that I knew him; that we once knew each other. It wouldn’t be fair for the Omega if I did.
But would the truth being spoken so soon destroy his view of me already? If he wanted nothing to do with me, that would be okay. It had to be. It was worth the price of spilling my secrets so quickly.
I looked at his face carefully, searching for any sign of distress, any flicker of panic.
He didn’t look panicked. He looked lost and confused, and deep in thought.
I hoped he didn’t think it was a game; hoped he wasn’t thinking of how to be the boy he thought I wanted.
The next picture was yet again of Kasey. All of them were, to be honest. I watched the boy more than the picture once again, wanting to calculate each expression that flickered through him. The good and the bad.
Kasey’s breath hitched and he took a tiny step backwards.
The picture was taken at a campsite, the same one of our very last camping trips as two complete families. It was late afternoon, the sun peeking through the trees that cast shadows along the ground.
