The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

117

Jackson saw right through my facade.

He took the script right out of my hands and threw it away.

"Hey!"

He pulled me up by the arm—with care somehow but also strength—and got me up. I resisted and squirmed, saying things, when the sight of Juno's blonde pushed back hair and blue eyes stopped me. I hadn't really realized he was there until then.

Juno looked tired. Very, very, sad.

We sat. Jackson somewhere else to give us room. Juno nursed tea to his lips.

There was no chit chat. It seemed no point, and we both knew it.

"I loved her even after all these years."

I stared into my cup.

"I'm getting married next month." I looked up then, just in time for him to put down the invitation card on my lap. "I would like for you to be there."

We were silent for a while. And then, for the months of holding it all back, I let loose a little. My first physical touch with someone that wasn't acting.

Juno, unexpected from my embrace, did not hesitate to wrap his arms back around me.

I didn't tell him the truth about Klarise and I. His sincereness told me he didn't suspect a thing and nor did he care. Would he judge if he knew? Would he be hurt?

I told him, "Go and be happy. She'd want that for you."

He weeped one last time into my arms before healing.

The Klarise that had shaped on Molokai smiled and waved, walking away without torment. Further and further, until she was merely a blur.

—————

And then from there, Jackson took me under his care. He wouldn't let me work late into the night and sleep on set. Nor would he let me skip meals.

He and Sarah made sure I held on. And I wish I did. So badly. But I didn't exactly. The agony was too strong. Without another disorder and stress built on me, anything else, I didn't know how to hold those little daggers and strikes off.

Although there was one thing left that could hold them off, and I didn't know it. Rather who.

Jackson knew exactly who.

Mason had stood in front of me one day. I couldn't recognize him through his thick hair that were somehow curls of grey and black. He had a beard that needed much shaving. He wore torn shirts and pants, his shoes had holes. Wrinkles filled his face, aging him handsomely but also cruelly. Dark eyeshadows. Sad. Scratches and cuts on his arms.

I saw: He was like me. Punishing himself in every little way to relieve pain. Suffering. As if the inner torture within our shattered hearts wasn't already enough.

Without a thought, as he stood motionless, tears in his eyes, I grabbed him toward me and pulled him into a hug. He felt different, smelled different. But it was him.

My Mason, my Mason.

The pain remained. But I got a clean breath, one at a time. I opened my eyes and there was a bit of light in my life. I realized I could hold them off a little more, maybe. I could bury it down for a little while. I could maybe still live again?

A companion who suffered through exactly what I was going through. Mason. Mason, my best friend.

How had I forgotten? He and I; we were there from the beginning.

A/N In honor of Klarise and Maeve <3 (In their youth/young them)

I'll forever miss these two :( 

But no worries they're in a good place together now with all the love in the world ❤️