“Yeah, well…that was my own doing.” I sigh, deciding to finally voice a thought that’s been stirring in my mind for weeks. “Augustus, what happened with your parents?”
“They moved to Palm Springs after…everything.”
“Right.” I nod. “But Everett told me they didn’t allow you to be involved with the Foundation, and I rarely hear you speak of them. Earlier you mentioned something about the way they treat you now.”
He swallows audibly. “My dad blames me. He hasn’t spoken to me directly in years. Since the day it happened, I think. And my mom…” He huffs. “She doesn’t exactly defend me. I couldn’t handle the way he looked at me, the way he so clearly wishes that the roles were reversed. I had to distance myself. It was getting so bad, and I…” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “It ate at me for a long time, but therapy has helped me wade through a lot of that. I distanced myself from my friends and from your parents for a while, too, since letting them all back in… It’s filled that gap. I talk to my mom as often as I can stomach it. I’m okay. Now, anyway.”
“None of it’s okay.” I bite back the fury in my tone, willing calmness, though I’m seething at the thought of their treatment toward him. “What do you mean now?”
“I used to struggle with the isolation a lot more. Before you came home, before I started going to therapy. The abandonment of my parents was a heavy weight—especially in terms of my father and the way he’s treated me.” He presses his lips against my head. “Having you back has replaced a lot of the void they left, but…” He sighs, wiping a hand down his face. “I’ve had some difficult moments in the past few years. Ones where I’ve thought about…” He trails off, and my stomach leaps into my throat at the understanding.
I push up onto my knees, crawling over him and taking his face between my hands. My heart pounds in my ears, throat seizing with pure fear as my skin goes numb.
“Do not ever think about that, August. Please.” I drop my forehead to his, feeling like I’ll fucking die without the warmth of his exhale against my face, the confirmation he’s breathing.“I won’t pretend to understand what your parents have put you through, but I cannot live in a world where you do not exist. Do you understand? Don’t ever do that to me. Don’t ever think that again.”
“I can’t help it,” he whispers, brushing his hand up my spine in a reassuring caress. “The thoughts just happen sometimes…but I’ve never had an urge to act on them, and it’s been months since I’ve struggled with it, anyway. I’m okay, Elena. I promise.”
“Then you tell me about them, okay? You come to me, and I’ll remind you how much I…” I swallow, hesitating. “How much I need you. How much better life, and the entire world is, because of you. How loved you are.”
He nods, smiling softly as he presses against my back, forcing me back to his chest again.
I lie back down, settling into his side as his fingertips glide over my shoulders as mine trace lazy patterns across his chest. “I hate your parents.”
“Sometimes, I do too.” He sighs, kissing the top of my head. “But they already lost one son, so I’m trying to be sympathetic to the pain they hold too.”
I can’t offer much more of a response than a resigned humph. All I can think about is how badly I want to burn their fucking house down. He deserves so much better than them. To blame him for a tragic accident that he had to witness firsthand, to not defend your own son against the vile accusations of your husband—it’s disgusting.
I can tell he’s worked hard to come to terms with the sickening reality of the situation, so I swallow back all the venom I want to spew in the direction of his worthless parents. I don’t want to make him feel worse.
“Is that the painting you got from Penelope?” he asks, a clear attempt at changing the subject.
I lift my head, following his gaze to the canvas hung up across my room. It’s hard to see, but through the dim moonlight filtering through my curtains, I can just make out the white orb at the center of the painting, the dark blue of the horizon cutting it in half, the smattering of stars, and the white of the waves crashing against the shore.
A beach at night. That’s what she painted for me.
“What does it say?” His eyes narrow, but I know the scroll is far too small to make out from this distance, especially in the dark.
In the bottomright corner of the canvas, just above her signature, three lines are written:
Just as starsilluminate their night
Just as the moon leads its tides
Beauty is found within darkness
“That’s beautiful,”he whispers when I finish reading. “Did she make that up herself?”
“Not sure. Maybe.” I shrug. “When we met, we got to talking about how different we are from our friends and siblings. How everyone around us is like a ray of fucking sunshine, and we can’t relate to that. She told me she felt more like the moon or the stars, but it was something she learned to love about herself. I told her I felt like the darkness between them.” I sigh. “At the time, I saw myself as a void of just…nothing. I guess this was her reminder that I’m not.”
“You know, the middle of the night is my favorite time of day.” He runs his knuckles up and down my back, eliciting sparks across my skin. “I’ve never wanted you to be bright. I found the most peace I’ve ever known when I’m sinking intoyour darkness. Your darkness between stars feels like home to me.”
“I think you are the stars,” I whisper. “They feel like home to me too.”
28
VIOLET
“SUPERPOSITION” - YOUNG THE GIANT
