"Wisps of darkness twirling like candle flames in the wind, and somewhere in his mind she shone like a beam of starlight. He was obsidian, she was his companion"
♛ R a f a e l ♛
As soon as Blaze was safely inside, I drove away, my thoughts hounded with the things she had just confessed.
Unintentionally, I parked around the corner when my palms started shaking too much around the steering wheel, which was slick with my sweat. She had lost her parents in a car accident.
A car crash. Too many accidents that took so many lives.
I could feel intangible shrapnel digging into my ribs, constricting my lungs along with my ability to breathe. The smell of flesh burning mixed with gasoline pungent in the air, blood everywhere. Her young face torn up with wounds, cracked bones and limbs twisted at weird angles, it all haunted my vision. I pulled my hair as my heavy breaths humidified the car.
Blaze didn't know, that's what I told myself. She didn't know that by sharing her secrets, she was also digging up memories from my past that I never wanted to relive. It wasn't her fault that I was as much a wreck as the crash site where I lost her forever, and that my issues were clouded by the very smoke that shrouded her body.
The night she became a star.
Even the hours of surgery and taxing physical or mental therapy couldn't mend the wounds on my soul. It was tainted with guilt, nothing that could be stitched or swabbed.
Tears were forming at the back of my eyes, scalding my lids and I aggressively shut them.
Feeling is weak.
Confronting emotions is weak.
My fingers painfully gripped the wheel to the point of cramping, but that was okay. Physical pain was the only emotion that I was allowed to feel.
The sound of my phone ringing broke the overthinking plaguing my brain, and I stomped on the disappointment that arose when I saw Bree's name. I was hoping Blaze would call and provide a distraction from my spiralling thoughts.
"Dude seriously, are we going?" she muttered irritably, and I wiped my eyes before answering, as if that would erase the stains on my soul.
"Yes," I answered curtly, and I heard silence on the other end.
"Raf, are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." My voice was barely audible, and I heard shuffling as Bree's voice seemed more serious when she spoke.
"What's going on?" I thought about telling her how I had flashbacks to the accident, but decided against it, especially over a phone call when we were meeting in ten minutes.
"Nothing. I'm coming to pick you up," I hung up before she could answer. I would probably get yelled at for that.
My legs felt like they were on cocaine because they kept bouncing restlessly. I could barely keep my gaze on the road, constantly feeling the pull of the past trying to drag me back to the shrouded smoke of the crash.
At a stoplight, I couldn't resist texting Blaze and felt another pang of dejection when she didn't reply instantly. I needed to know that she was okay, and a part of me hated to admit that I wanted her to tell me that things were going to be okay too.
It took me a minute to gather my bearings, and throughout the entire drive home I felt the growing urge to turn back and find whatever comfort I could gather in her presence. I loathed that I was becoming dependent on someone for my stability.
By the time I pulled up to our driveway and Bree raced to the passenger side, I had undergone fifty internal arguments with myself.
"Don't you dare hang up on me again, that's my thing" was Bree's form of a greeting as she smacked my head.
"You're so violent," I glared at her, which she didn't hesitate to return as I pulled out of our driveway. Her previous concern had diminished, and with that, my vulnerability suppressed on itself.
"Why are you wearing your glasses?" I glanced at the rarely worn tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose.
"I can't find my contacts, do you know where they are?" she looked at me expectantly, and I rolled my eyes.
"You do realise they're transparent, right? It's not like I've got ultraviolet vision." That earned me another smack on the back of my head. I resisted the urge to poke her in the ribs.
"What's going on with Blaze?" Bree's mood instantly shifted, uncharacteristic worry peeking through her nonchalant facade. For a split second, I wished she would ask how I was. But that's all it's was- a momentous wish crushed upon its ridiculous nature.
"Nothing, she's fine." I gritted my teeth. Lying was much easier when you were doing it for yourself.
"Spit it out."
When I didn't reply, she poked my side repeatedly.
"Let me drive, you dumb pancake," I glared at her, but she didn't stop.
"Okay fine, she had a fight with that asshole." That was partially the truth, the other part being she hurt herself. It felt like a betrayal to tell Bree, even if she was possibly the only person who would understand the most.
"Is murder an offensive crime if it's justified and completely reasonable, given the circumstances?" Bree tried to lighten the atmosphere, but I could already feel the familiar anger climbing inside me. Not only because he hurt Blaze, but also because of what he called Bree, which she didn't know. I didn't want to face that some of that anger was directed toward myself.
Bree must've noticed my grim expression because she nudged me repeatedly till I groaned.
"You're so fucking annoying." Bree took offence to that because her nudges turned into full-blown elbows to my ribs.
"Jesus Christ woman, would you let me focus on the road?"
"The light's red, you dense bobblehead," she rolled her eyes and I sighed loudly.
"If I tell you something that happened a while ago, would you get mad?" I figured I should've told her what he had called her a long time ago, but I was too angry to.
"Wait, are you scared of me?" Bree smirked, but it dropped when I didn't grin back.
"Do you remember that day in the cafeteria when I..." I trailed off, knowing Bree remembered.
She nodded.
"He didn't just call me a druggie like Teresa, he said something else too." Curling my fingers around the steering wheel didn't satiate the rage inside me. I was surprised I hadn't sought him out and done something much worse than before. It would be a very welcome distraction.
"He called you the 's' word" I murmured, knowing it was a sore topic. It was one of the many reasons I hadn't wanted to tell her, and why I wanted to do so much more than punch his face.
Bree scoffed, bitterness coating the sound and then she turned to look me in the eye.
"You can say it, you know. He called me a slut, not the first time I've been called that either," she shrugged. Her nonchalance was a miserable attempt at hiding the thin line of tears edging her lids, and I felt guilt rack up inside me instantly.
"Bree, I'm sorry."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" She glowered at me accusingly, and I rested my head against the steering wheel, my fingers paling from their death hold on the wheel.
"Because I didn't know how'd you feel."
"Well I don't care, no one says bad stuff about me at this school and that jerk's words don't mean shit," she sighed shakily, and then suddenly trapped me in an awkward imitation of a side hug. It was another indicator of how one word could bring back terrible memories since she wasn't a hugger. At all.
"If you hide something from me again, I'll stab you with a pipe cleaner," she whispered in my ear and I recoiled when she grinned at me evilly, albeit it didn't quite reach her eyes.
The light turned green, and with that, my thoughts raced along with the wheels of the car.
To crush the thick tension between us, Bree put on some music and I couldn't help but mutter at her weird music taste.
"Who the fuck listens to rock music on a Sunday morning?" I glared at her from the corner of my vision, and she shrugged.
"It's the afternoon. Plus, the drive's going to take almost two hours, and I can't bear it with just your boring personality."
"I can just tell how much you love me." Rolling my eyes, I turned up the volume to drown out the messy memories in my head. Her sly smirk only deepened.
The roads widened as we approached the highway, my pulse picking up simultaneously and the familiar thumping in my chest dried my throat.
"Do you want me to drive?" Bree turned off the music, her eyes swimming with concern which made me angry.
"No."
"Rafael, I mean it," she bluntly stated, and I ignored her as my eyes were fixated on the road and the large trucks in my line of vision.
The insubstantial smell of burning rubber and fuming fires invaded my nostrils, and I clenched my jaw when I remembered how Blaze's words had unknowingly added to the flames. Her confession about how she heard her parents death, about the music of death, how everything went silent.
But I wish that was how her death had really happened. Instead, I heard screams and cries for help, smelt blood and flesh burning, and saw cracked bones and death.
"Slow down," Bree's voice pierced through my ears and I instantly jerked back to the present, noticing that my foot had been pressing down too hard on the accelerator.
"Just pull over," Bree looked on the verge of tears, and I inhaled shakily. Blaze needed someone to listen, and I did, but it also triggered memories that I wanted gone.
She had heard death, but I had witnessed it, almost succumbed to it.
"We're in the middle of the highway, I can't." I tried to calm my rapid breathing, but the large wheels around us did nothing to dampen the fear inside me.
"Then get off at the next exit," her voice rose an octave, and it was reasonable considering I never lost control of my speed, especially on the highway.
"Why would you do that?" She looked at me with wide eyes, and I desperately tried to keep my thoughts in control. I was driving at the minimum speed limit, my veins bursting with terror and caution.
"I- I just remembered."
"But you said the nightmares and flashbacks stopped," Bree sounded alarmed, and I attempted a small smile that looked more like a frown.
"That's because they did."
She didn't need to know that they stopped because the drugs helped, that they turned my nightmares into sedated hallucinations.
"What aren't you telling me, Rafael?" Her brunette eyes flickered with concern, and I stared at the road silently.
I didn't answer for a few minutes, pictures of pills and powders briefly flashing in front of my face. Then of the one time I almost overdosed, and the time I had been forced to spend in rehab because of Jason.
"I need to tell you some-" My voice was cut off by the shrill music that was Bree's ringtone, and I couldn't help but sneak a glance at her phone screen.
"Why the hell is Travis calling you?" Bree nervously chuckled at my question, which caused suspicion to spike inside me.
"Because he's my friend too," she argued.
"Yeah well, why does his name have an emoji after it?" My reasoning was really stupid, but the devil was in the details, right? Besides, it was a mellower topic than hashing the reasons for my flashbacks with Bree.
"That's the stupidest question I've ever heard," she scoffed, but I noticed her fingers were twisting across her lap. A sign that she was lying or nervous.
"You better not like him," Bree looked offended at my terse statement, and my anger rose when she didn't deny it.
"Excuse me? How is that any of your business?"
"You're my sister, and he's my best friend. No way in fucking hell that you two are happening," I glowered at the windscreen, and Bree scoffed.
"Well Blaze is my best friend, and you're my brother but you don't see me complaining," she practically growled.
"But... that's different" I was stumped, but that didn't mean this conversation was over, not by a long shot.
"Bree, what's going on with you two?" I hated the idea of Travis with Bree, mainly because even if Trav was my best friend, I knew he never stuck to one girl. It was a fact that he didn't deny, well at least up until a few months ago.
"Nothing." Her reply lacked surety.
"Don't lie to me."
"Who I like or date is none of your concern." I was surprised by the bite in her tone.
"As I said, nothing's going on. Besides, why are you so riled up over one phone call?" She raised an eyebrow, and I sighed reluctantly. Maybe because my head was whirring with dismal thoughts, worry for Blaze and anger at the impending court case.
"I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind," I muttered and to her credit, Bree didn't look at me in sympathy.
"Well, we've got time."
"No, it's fine. It's nothing important." I attempted at brushing it off, but as usual, Bree was adamant about figuring out the shitshow in my head. Too bad that I was just getting better at lying.
"Tell me," she continued staring at me, and I lost the very thin thread of control over my anger.
"Just fucking drop it, Aubree." The volume of my voice caused her to flinch, and Bree looked hurt before she nodded. Fucking great, just add that to the list of things I should've been guilty of.
"I'm sorry, I'm just stressed about the court case." That was a quarter of the truth, but it was true nonetheless.
"Everything will be fine, Dad's working on it too. He's trying to get Clave to drop the charges," Bree offered, and I didn't bother hiding the resentment on my face.
"Oh really? Does he remember he has kids too?" I didn't mask the spite in my tone, and Bree pursed her lips.
"He's doing the best he can, Raf. He gets you out of trouble every time."
"You too, then? I'm just trouble, aren't I?" I had the urge to slam something in, but given the fact that we were on the highway didn't help.
"That's not what I meant and you know it, stop trying to find a way to lash out" she brusquely stated and I frowned, knowing that wasn't exactly a lie. But they never realised that every fight I had ever got into was because someone said something about Bree or our fucked up family, albeit some were due to my sedated highs.
That didn't matter though, not when my own family saw that as a way of acting out.
"Sure," I cut off the conversation, trying to avoid saying something I would regret.
After that, the journey was silent, and Bree eventually fell asleep after countless futile attempts at getting me to spill. My mind was occupied with a million things but the innate need to check up on Blaze raged ahead.
I sent her a dozen texts, all of which were met with no reply and my jitters only increased. I fucking knew I shouldn't have left her alone.
Well in her defence, it had been only an hour and a half since I left, but a lot could happen in that timeframe. I contemplated calling her, then decided against it. She could be sleeping, considering the fact that she had done the same on the way home from the cemetery.
The events that transpired there didn't fail to seep a chill in my bones, not because of what Blaze had said, but more because of the way she reacted. One moment she was terrified out of her wits, and the other it felt like she craved comfort. There was a nagging feeling in my bones telling me that it was more than just a fight with Aiden.
As a truck edged past our car, I could feel my breathing quicken again, waiting for an impact that never came.
Eventually, the large vehicles disappeared as I pulled off the highway, giving rise to the familiar roads leading to the city that held both our family's rise and downfall.
"Bree, we're here," I nudged her lightly, and she stirred, customarily muttering a few curse words under her breath before she grasped her surroundings.
Sucking in a deep breath, I drove past the familiar stores and bustling crowd waiting for Eliana's Sunday Cream Bagels, which was a regular thing in Ardenford.
It was a stark contrast to Glendsale, like two opposite poles of the world even if they were just hours apart. This place was like a ghost town, and even with all the flurry of activity, I felt just as lonely as the day we had left.
Here, more than half of the population reeked of money, and the remaining were shadowed in poverty. There was no middle ground, you were either born lucky or damned. Jason had been one of the few who had broken the cycle.
Bree seemed to be having the same thoughts as she muttered, "It's just as depressing as I remember."
"I hate this place," I murmured in unison.
"We did use to have happy memories here," Bree smiled sadly, and I sealed my lips shut because it was true.
I pulled over at the florist, and Bree followed me inside. The smell of freshly cut blooms drifted across the floor, and for a second, I smiled, but it faded when I realised why we were here. The lady at the counter smiled warmly at us while we paid, a futile attempt at making conversation resulting in awkward stillness. After a minute of tense silence, she handed us the bouquet of asters and carnations.
"Thank you" I nodded at her, before getting back outside and into the warmth of the car.
The gated communities and towering mansions were reminiscent of a life that had long been buried. Even those large metal bars could do nothing to prevent or wipe out tragedy when it was bound to happen.
The drive to my second cemetery of the day held much more meaning than the first. The same sombre atmosphere was omnipresent in the car as whenever we visited her grave, although our reasons were different. Bree mourned her loss, but I mourned my fault in her death and the subsequent breaking apart of our family.
The graveyard came into view, and I slowed the car down, hoping to prolong the last hundred meters. Bree sucked in a deep breath, and I ignored the churning in my stomach that threatened to give rise to another meltdown.
"It's okay, we're going to be okay." Bree grabbed my hand, her words conveying more depth than their superficial meanings held. Although I wondered if she was trying to convince herself or me.
I didn't comment as we stepped out of the car, adjacent to other sleek cars. Death didn't discriminate between the rich and poor, we all ended up as piles of bones six feet under or ashes scattered in the wind.
Bree's grip tightened with each step to the cemetery, and once again my thoughts flashed to Blaze.
Visiting her parents grave held no emotional burden over me, but right now, this cemetery didn't only contain Cai's body but also the nightmares that sprouted after her death. I was selfish, but I wanted Blaze by my side too.
"It's okay, we're going to be okay," Bree repeated under her breath, and I squeezed our interlaced hands. She glanced at me with watery eyes, and I felt a new wave of guilt crash into me. We wouldn't have lost her if I hadn't been so reckless. One insignificant mistake, which had transformed into a deadly catalyst.
"It wasn't your fault." I once again questioned if there really was something such as twin telepathy when Bree spoke up, her attempt at comfort falling on deaf ears.
"You weren't home that day," I tried to drive away all the resentment from my tone, but some of it seeped through because Bree winced.
"I'm sorry," I quietly murmured and Bree just nodded. I was fucked up for taking it out on her.
Today's visit felt heavier than the rest, maybe due to the earlier conversation with Mark that confirmed that this court case was severe, and I could be looking at a permanent record and jail time. The circumstances didn't matter, because emotions and empathy didn't hold much power in the law.
However, all those thoughts vanished when her tombstone came into the view, the sunlight bouncing off the polished grey marble.
Bree's foot was bouncing off the soil nervously, her fingers digging into my palm as she knelt to place the flowers on her grave. I followed the movement of her fingers as they traced the name embossed on the smooth surface.
Cairo Hernandez.
Involuntarily, tears stung the back of my eyes, partially because of grief but more because of guilt. She wouldn't be dead if I had just been more careful.
I didn't need to read the poetic verse etched below her name, much like the other epitaphs on the adjacent graves. Engravings etched onto granite tombstones hoping to comfort the grieving souls visiting the graves, to draw attention away from the fact that their loved ones were six feet under, decomposing into the very soil that they trod on.
It was stupid to think that poetry could soothe the loss of a loved one. But maybe that was human nature, finding beauty wherever you could whilst being surrounded by obsidian.
Like every other grave in this area, hers was surrounded by immaculately trimmed petunia shrubs. The blooming irises were an addition to Cai's gravesite.
They supplied the false illusion that death could be beautiful too. That there was beauty in destruction, art in devastation.
A lie.
It was all just a fucking ploy at trying to make the mourners feel better. It didn't work for me, because whenever I visited, I felt the remorse tear through me like a rampant beast and a part of me was lost to the soil every time.
The memory ripped through my brain, spinning like a damaged track on a turntable, playing the tragic symphony of a grievous past.
Her fingernails dug into the back of my neck, breaking the thin skin and leaving bloody crescent moons in their wake.
"Look at her, look at your sister. She's down there because of you."
"Mummy, I'm sorry. It hurts." Salty tears rolled down my cheeks, meeting my tastebuds in a bitter collision.
She was pressing my forehead too hard against the marble, a slender gash forming where the sharp edge of the tombstone dug into the papery flesh. Mum's voice was shaky and bitter, a hatred that seemed so foreign on a mother's tongue.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." My voice was quaking in fear and agony. The tears rolled off the marble, the dawning sunlight making them glimmer.
"Your apologies won't bring her back," she sneered, further slamming my head against the marble, and a thin stream of blood blended with the saline tears. It dripped onto my fingers that fought against her suffocating hold.
"Mum, please stop. You're hurting me." I didn't understand why she was doing this, hurting me on a level deeper than physical.
"You're a murderer, Rafael. You're no son of mine."
I was eleven.
I hadn't even realised that tears were rolling down my cheeks, wetting my palm as I felt the tiny scar on my forehead.
It was a reminder that that morning was real, and not a figment of my distorted imagination. The day my mother verbally disowned me as her son. The day she finally admitted all the malice she harboured for me, and the day she ignited my own self-hatred.
"Raf," Bree's voice broke through my dazed reverie, and I released her hand.
"It's not your fault," she echoed her previous words, but to me, they only sounded hollow. She didn't know about that day, nor did she know about the depth of Teresa's torture. I had never let her feel it.
"Yeah, I know." I didn't bother attempting a smile when I couldn't even look her in the eye.
"It isn't. Teresa was wrong," she tugged my hand, forcing me to meet her gaze and I nodded as convincingly as I could.
"I know." No, I didn't.
"Stop going back there, you were 10 and you weren't the one driving." Bree wasn't letting this go.
"But I was the reason we were in the car in the first place. I was in the backseat too, it should've been me instead of her." Tears were surging in my eyes again, and I immediately bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood.
Crying is weak, Rafael.
"No, stop that," Bree yanked my shoulder, and I glared at her when she didn't let go.
"We're not going there today. You can't change the past," she spoke softly, and I refrained from saying something I might regret, like the fact that she didn't understand because she had never had to experience those memories.
"Okay."
She didn't seem convinced, on the verge of staging another attempt to make me believe that I was innocent, but I cut her off.
"Can you leave me here for a few minutes? You can wait in the car." I handed her the keys, avoiding her knowing gaze on the side of my face.
"Okay. I'm hungry though, can we go to Palisades after?" She stopped before leaving, and I nodded.
"I already got a reservation yesterday," I attempted a small smile which she reciprocated. However, it dropped as soon as she reluctantly left.
I glanced around the cemetery, a flicker of the time I had gotten high and almost passed out near Cai's headstone. The security guard had called Jason, who had been beyond furious. I still remembered Bree crying and him yelling, my head pounding with the remnants of Cai's memories.
I remembered the car crash as if it had happened yesterday, and not seven years ago. Cai's giggles which soon transformed into cries, and all the deformed metal cutting our skin.
The heady memories stabbed my skull, and I focused on calming the anger, mixed with pain, raging like a typhoon inside me. There wasn't a day that passed by where I didn't regret her death instead of mine, but the guilt always multiplied whenever I saw her grave.
She was underground, I was above it, and I wanted nothing more than to reverse those roles.
With the same abject thoughts running through my head, tears blinding my vision and trembling hands stuffed in my pockets, I walked back to the car.
I didn't even notice Bree's quivering lip or reproachful eyes as they focused upon me once I sat back down inside the car. I was about to ask her what was wrong when I glanced at the container in her hands. My blood ran cold when her shaky hands gripped it tightly.
"Where did you get them?" The sharp accusation in her voice took me aback, and I winced as her voice rang loudly through my ears.
"Bree, those aren't mine," I emphasised, wiping a few errant tears from my cheeks.
Crying was weak.
I repeated it like a mantra inside my head, till I could build a wall back up, a shield that prevented all the emotions from pouring through.
Without a warning, she yanked my arm and pulled my sleeves up. Some colour seeped back into her cheeks when she saw unmarked skin.
"Then whose are these? They have blood on them," she stared at me expectantly.
"I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"I just can't." It felt wrong to tell her without Blaze here, but she wasn't far from figuring it out.
Realisation gradually dawned on her face when I didn't elaborate, and her eyes widened.
"Blaze?" she asked softly, and I knew that my silence was as much an answer as any.
"But she- why didn't we see sooner?" Her voice was just as guilty as mine had been when I had realised, and I avoided her gaze.
"I don't know."
I sighed, then turned to her, a question itching in the back of my mind. "You haven't done it recently, right?"
Her eyes flickered to mine, a flash of anger passing in them.
"No, Rafael." Her fists were clenched at her side, and despite her answer, I couldn't help but glance at her wrists that were almost always covered in leather bands.
"I haven't cut myself in almost two years, okay?" she snapped when she caught me staring, and I gulped nervously.
She had kept her promise, I hadn't.
"Okay, I'm sorry. I trust you. You can talk to me, you know that, right?" I was hoping she would say something, but instead, she nodded and pursed her lips. I took that as a cue that this conversation was over, and started driving.
The car ride to Palisades, a speakeasy-themed diner, was short and silent. It was the spot where all the kids from our old prep school used to hang out, mainly because it was expensive as fuck despite being a diner, and that it was devoid of all the 'riff-raff' that they despised. That was one of the very few things I was grateful to Jason for, teaching us the value of money, but lately I knew I had lost course of that moral.
Bree's leg kept bouncing up and down throughout the drive, and then she shifted to wringing her fingers together and bunching the hem of her tee. All of her nervous ticks accumulated.
"Why are you nervous?" I asked her once we were near the valet parking. It was still crazy how a diner could have fancy shit like that, but everything was possible on this side of the city.
"I don't want to run into anyone from our old school." I grimaced at her confession. Our years at Ardenford Prep weren't the best, especially after Cairo died.
"I can always fight people off, you know." I showed her my biceps with a huge grin, and she rolled her eyes.
"Dad said no more fights," she stated seriously and I frowned, but nodded.
After handing the keys to the valet, we walked into the diner. Soft jazz music instantly greeted my ears, and Bree glanced my way before muttering something under her breath.
The hostess smiled at us briefly after she checked our names on the list, and led us to a plush booth to the far right corner. It was still the evening, but the place was packed, mostly with kids our age.
Bree's grin never left her face as she picked up the laminated menu, listing off all the things she would order.
"Should I get Violet Lagoons or Crimson Waves? Wait on second thought, the second one sounds like period blood in a glass." I choked on my water at her comment.
"What? Don't look at me like that. They revamped the menu and I'm sure as fuck ordering all this new stuff." I raised my hands in a placating gesture when she challenged me to argue with a raised brow.
By the time our waiter came to take our order, Bree had decided on three types of burgers, two drinks and four types of fries.
"You're going to eat all that, right?" I looked at her sceptically, and she shook her head.
"You're going to help, of course."
Due to her personal ordering spree, I didn't end up getting half the stuff I wanted. Someone had to eat the Golden Glazed Triple Rolled Chicken Burger or whatever the heck it was called.
"So, Dad called," Bree muttered after a long pause, our conversation masked by the music and buzz around us.
"Oh?" I twisted the ends of the placemat before me, desperate on avoiding this topic.
"He was asking about you, you should talk to him," Bree observed me under her inscrutable gaze.
I hummed in response, wanting this conversation to be over.
"Is it always going to be like this whenever he calls? Raf, you do realise he wasn't the bad guy, right?" She whispered, staring at me until I met her gaze.
"Yeah, I know." Honestly, I didn't have the energy for this talk right now. If he had actually been there after Cai's death, instead of his several monthly work trips, things would've been different.
"Could you please at least try and mend things?" The way she said it sent a pang of hurt to my chest. She was acting as if I was the only one that ruined that relationship.
"What is it?" Bree exhaled loudly, tapping the salt shaker on my knuckles until I groaned in frustration.
"Do you have to be such an aggravating twat?" I glared at her.
"Learnt from the best," she smiled sweetly.
I could sense she was about to ask again, but thankfully at the exact time, a middle-aged waitress came bearing our food. I shot her a thankful grin when she put our plates on the table, effectively distracting Bree with the smell of fried potatoes.
"This is food porn right here," She pointed at the juices dribbling off the edges of the burger patty and the waitress shifted uncomfortably, leaving straight after.
"Am I going to get any of these?" I pointed at all the chips Bree had already hoarded, leaving me with a few measly ones. She shook her head, her mouth already stuffed with a burger.
"You can't eat a lot, you still have to drive," she grinned cheekily. I narrowed my eyes at her, and reluctantly she handed me a handful of chips.
Our meal conversation was practically one-sided as Bree rambled on about a new TV show she had started, where the main female lead was a 'brainless bitch from Azkaban'.
I was preoccupied with secretly checking my phone every few minutes to see whether Blaze had replied or not. The few calls that I made went straight to voicemail.
Turns out I wasn't so discreet, because when I looked up, Bree was smirking at me knowingly.
"You're whipped," she nodded profoundly as if she had come to a great conclusion, one hand holding a burger and the other stuffing chips into her mouth.
"You look like an anti-Yoda with a half-eaten burger, and a dribble of ketchup, right there by your chin," I deadpanned, smirking as her face heated up. She quickly scrubbed her silk napkin across her face.
However, her embarrassment quickly shifted to anger as she glanced somewhere behind me.
"The fucking nerve," she muttered, before straightening her back.
I didn't even need to turn around, because the person in question was now at our table, evilly smirking just like the day he had had me kicked out of Ardenford Prep two years ago.
Not this asshole again.
hi there, my waffle girls, pancake boys and taco nonbinaries. okay how many of you are reading this? if you are comment your most used emoji here.
i swear to god i must be the luckiest twat right now because you guys are the sweetest. thank you so much for the sudden influx of votes and comments, they literally made my shitty day better. you people make me happier than chicken nuggets, no lie.
thank you so so so much for 40K and 4K votes and #1 in badboy?!?! like 4K reads in one day, holy fucking donkeyshit that's crazy, i'm literally speechless i- excuse me if i sound like a crackhead, i just haven't slept in a hot minute. love that for us.
anyways, how was your day? tell me a storytime!
question: what's your sun, moon and ascendant sign?
i love all of you!
love
a