I sit alone in the bathroom, looking at the shampoo bottles I’m yet to get rid of. I imagine Mom’s gentle smile and warm eyes, the way her face would beam with pride whenever she caught sight of me. Her whole frame would relax when I entered the room, as if the effort of holding all of her love for me was finally eased, once I was there to receive it.
It’s a feeling I’m more than familiar with; only, the love I’m holding on to has nowhere to go. I tried to cash in on my kindness and claim my karma, only for it to ricochet back ten times harder.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I thought I could save him.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zander
Age 20
My mouth waters and trembles as the sickness builds from the dizzying thoughts whirling around my head. I don’t know how I made it out of the bathroom without falling over the memories flooding and rushing in. One after another, they came thick and fast– the door fully open and splintering at the hinges.
I pushed him.
I saved her.
I killed him.
Steadying myself against the wall, I try to take a deep breath, only for it to get stuck halfway. I try again, sucking air desperately through my nose, but it’s not enough, there isn’t enough. Panic seeps through the gaps and wraps itself around my brain like a parasitic tar. I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I can’t dothis.
Why would he lie to me? I thought we knew everything about each other. Maybe we do, I just don’t know enough about myself, apparently. I didn’t know my past, I didn’t know mycapabilities, and I didn’t know I would be the one who needed protection all along. Protection fromhim.
I manage to stagger outside, only to realise I have nowhere to go. For the first time in my life, I’m completely alone, and it fucking hurts. The darkness doesn’t feel so welcoming anymore; it’s empty and cold. I spent years stuck in silence; the shadows were my only company, so I held on to them. Then Jules came along, and he sat in that darkness with me. He didn’t try to pull me out; he just gradually grew brighter over the years until he was the one I held on to instead. He became the tether that kept me anchored to something that felt real for a while: family, friendship, love. But now I’m a nomad, floating in the space between temporary and forever; never landing, forever adrift.
The grass underfoot is wet, but it feels refreshing against the burning desire to scream and shout into the night. The inexpressible feelings need an outlet, but there are no words to describe the abandonment surrounding me. I tilt my head to the sky as rain starts to trickle down– yet another cruel joke.
“Zander!” The light shower quickly turns into a heavy downpour, battering against the tin roof of the shed. I can hear Jules shouting for me, but I don’t want to acknowledge him. I don’t understand how I’m feeling right now, and that’s the scariest part of all. I had finally found clarity in our new dynamic, but now I feel as uncertain as I did the night I begged him to make it make sense.
“Zan,please. Come inside before you get ill.” I don’t miss the worry in his plea as his voice becomes clearer.
“Leave me alone, Jules,” I bite.
“No.”
Rainwater streams down my face, soaking through my clothes. I should feel cleansed, absolved even, but instead, the cowardice and guilt cling to me as tightly as my saturated shirt.
“Go. Away. Jules.”
“Never,” it’s no more than a shaky whisper beside my ear, a reminder that he now stands where we promised each other we always would,side by side.
I spin to face him quickly, leaving no room for rationale to override my bitterness. For the first time ever, Jules is the target of my rage, and I don’t feel a single ounce of guilt as I shove his chest, forcing him back.
“Who even am I?!” It comes out as a despondent cry. He stumbles backward over the shock. I advance on him again, pushing with the tips of my fingers.
“You said you know exactly who I am, so tell me, Jules, who?!” I ask through his silence. The volume is mocking,who knew nothingness could be so terribly loud?
He rights himself once more. His frame stiffening, and his fight boiling at the surface. It instantly transports me back to the night he first kissed me, an amalgamation of white-hot anger and emotion. I see the tightening of his fists by his side as he takes a confident step forward, bravery and fury driving his actions.
“You’re Zander, the ‘bestest Pokémon master ever’…” The painful familiarity reaches my ears. His feet carry him another step closer.
“You’re my running partner with odd shoes.”Step.
“You’re my best friend, my family…” We’re both soaking wet and vibrating against each other with passionate rage.
“You’re my protector…” His hands land on either side of my face with a steady grip.
“You’re loved…” Our faces are so close, but shame rids me of the ability to look into his eyes.
