But my shock didn't matter right now. What mattered was the broken boy sitting next to me, finally brave enough to tell his truth.
"You know what I learned when I was your age?" I said carefully, setting down my tea and turning to face him fully. "That the people who matter, the people who really love you, don't stop loving you when they learn who you really are. They love you more for having the courage to be honest."
"But what if they do stop loving me?" he whispered. "What if I'm not who they thought I was and they get disappointed?"
"Then they never really love you to begin with," I said firmly. "And that's not your fault. You can't live your life for other people's comfort. You can't shrink yourself to fit into boxes that other people built for you."
I reached over and took his hand. "Growing up means accepting that some people won't understand you, and that's okay. What's not okay is sacrificing your happiness to avoid their discomfort. You're allowed to take up space. You're allowed to love who you love. You're allowed to be exactly who you are."
"But the video?—"
"Will be old news in a month," I interrupted. "High school drama always feels like the end of the world when you're in it, but I promise you, this too shall pass. People will find something else to talk about, some other scandal to obsess over."
"What about Mom and Dad? What about you?"
My heart broke at the fear in his voice. "Leo, look at me," I said, waiting until his eyes met mine. "We love you. Not the version of you that you think we want, but you. The real you. Your sexuality doesn't change the fact that you're their son, my brother. It doesn't change all the ways you've made our lives better just by being in them."
He started crying then, really crying, and I pulled him into my arms the way I used to when he had nightmares as a little boy.
"I know it feels impossible right now," I murmured into his hair, "but I promise you, there will come a day when you're grateful for your courage today. When you're proud of yourself for choosing truth over comfort."
"Do you think Jeremy will forgive me and be my friend again?"
"Jeremy cares about you," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure what Jeremy was feeling right now. "Maybe he's scared, too. Maybe he needs time to process. But if he's the person you think he is, he'll come around."
We sat like that for a long time, he crying out years of hidden fear and shame, me holding him and whispering reassurances I hoped were true.
When his tears finally subsided, he pulled back and looked at me with exhausted but clearer eyes.
"Thank you for not freaking out. For not making it about you."
I laughed at this last part. I didn't know he felt like that, like I made everything about me. I felt a little guilty that he lived as if he were my shadow. I knew this was something I had to change from now on.
Maybe I couldn't change others' actions, but I could change who I was and my own actions. And maybe that was what others needed.
"Thank you for trusting me with this. I know it wasn't easy," I replied. "Everything's going to be okay," I promised him, even as my own heart was breaking with the knowledge that I might not be able to keep that promise. "We'll figure this out together."
CHAPTER 42
Kyle
Kyle: Were you able to talk to your brother? How did everything go?
Lily: Yes, he finally trusted me enough to talk. Everything went well.
Kyle: Finally.
I arrivedhome with my mind racing at a thousand miles per hour. No matter how hard we'd tried, Lily and I hadn't been able to accomplish anything in the past month to change the course of events. Things had happened again exactly as they had before, just with minor variations.
But there was still time to save our loved ones. This week was crucial. We couldn't afford to make another mistake. We had to plan our next steps with precision. I had to stop Oliver’s death. It wasn’t too late yet.
I went up to my room and cleared one of the walls. I searched through my desk drawers and pulled out papers,photographs, and anything else that might be relevant, then began arranging them on the blank wall. I needed a clear visual representation of all the events leading up to Oliver's death, starting with the video that had set everything in motion.
Unlike the first time around, I now had much more context about all the enemies Oliver had made, all his manipulative actions, and everything that had transpired after his death. The knowledge I'd gained from living through the aftermath gave me insights I'd never had the first time. Now I was certain I could prevent the catastrophe; I simply needed to identify who had committed the crime.
I spent hours in my room, writing theories on sticky notes, drawing connections with red string like some conspiracy theorist, marking suspects and motives on the wall. I was so absorbed in the work that I didn't even realize my family had come home until Aria knocked on my door to ask if I'd eaten dinner.
"I'm fine," I called through the door, not wanting to break my concentration.
