Butterflies

Chapter Ten

"You can't even be talking Milo." Noah states with a snicker. Here we go again. I sigh, and start shoving t-shirts on hangers and into my closet. "Holding in all your feelings like this isn't going to get you anywhere." Henry states, with a hint of concern in his voice.

"I'm not holding anything in, ok, now seriously drop it guys." My eyes flicker between them both, and I'm guessing they get the memo because they stop after that. "Ok, well, I'm going to order Pizza then."

___

I pulled the cardboard box out of the fridge in the empty, quiet house, and set it onto the table.

At first the quietness bothered me. Always surrounded by noise, anytime my parent's would go away for a weekend trip I would lose my shit in the silence.

When I was 16 they took their first summer trip down to the Bahamas for 'work'. They weren't here for my birthday, and they weren't here for the fourth of July. Over the course of that summer, I grew quite fond of the silence.

I didn't like them arguing anymore, or their breaths breathing down my back every five seconds.

It's a tradition for them to leave over the summer now. Honestly, I really only see them for 2 months out of the year. And that's with days adding up; they're never here for more than 2 weeks at a time.

Usually I get a happy birthday text from them, but today I got nothing which bothered me. I was waiting for the text for the whole entire day. Even just a 'happy b-day Milo' would've suited. It's my 18th birthday and my parents didn't even remember? How fucked up is that?

Last year–the second year of being alone–the Everrest found out and forced me into their home every Friday to watch movies with them. They celebrated every single thing with me, and became my new family.

An old family that became a new family all over again. I honestly never talked to them after Isabelle left. The only contact I had with them was through Luna. Then Luna found out I was alone, and snitched on me. Which, for the record, I am really thankful for now.

I love Mr and Mrs E like my life depends on it. It really opens your eyes, and proves to you that blood isn't always family.

Sighing through my thoughts I open the cardboard box, and slide out the small, two layered cake that Mama Hazel made for me this morning.

I don't know how that woman found out when my birthday was, but ever since I remember, she's made me a cake. No one else has. No one else has really ever cared. She always acts like she doesn't like me, or doesn't know who I am, but I know deep down she has a soft spot for me. She watched me go through some bad shit a few years back, and actually had the balls to pull me out by the fucking ear.

The sun had set, and the guys left a little bit ago. I've been spending so much time with people, and now the silence doesn't feel right. It feels unsettling again.

I pulled out a candle from the drawer beneath me, and lit it with the lighter I had on hand. With the white of the cake, and the candle burning lightly over it, I closed my eyes and made a wish.

I know it's stupid, but sometimes wishing is the only thing I can do. Plus, I've been wishing for the same thing for 3 years. The minute I blow out the candle the doorbell rings. I stand up straighter, my heart beating quicker.