Hello everyone! How was last chapter? 😘
This chapter continues the very next day after last chapter, and this one holds importance as well. There is a very important change in this one, and I hope you guys feel and understand it.
This is Liam's rise, but I want everything to be realistic, so it won't be easy, and it also won't be all good. In a mountain range, there are also valleys.
Enjoy! 💕
Chapter 32:
"Alright, Liam, think you can go refill the front case for me?" Laurence wondered as he put another batch of croissants in the bread oven. We were making a lot today, but I welcomed the work as a distraction.
"Yes," I simply said, walking over to the cart full of different pastries and bread for the front case. I pushed it towards the door, stopping as Laurence spoke once more.
"And tell Zayn to double check the heat for you. We want to keep those pastries warm for customers," He added, and I gave a nod before walking out from the kitchen with the cart. Zayn turned to see who was coming out of the room, and I saw him smile at me in greeting, my heart soaring as my cheeks heated.
He was true to his word. After our discussion in the warehouse, Zayn didn't try to push me for anything or make me feel guilty for not being ready. Instead, it was back to how it normally was between us. Our friendship dynamic never changed, but I also wasn't constantly worrying that his feelings for me would change. Whenever the thought crossed my mind, it was countered instead by the soft, admiring look on his face as he pressed a kiss to my cheek, then my fingertips.
"My uncle's making you do all the hard work today, hm?" He joked, moving to wipe down the front counter from all of the pastry crumbs there.
"It's not too bad. I like the distractions," I admitted. I opened up the front case and began placing pastries in the correct positions. We weren't busy right now or anything, so I wasn't too preoccupied with hiding my face away.
"Have you thought about the writing club meeting? Whether you're going to read something?" Zayn questioned.
It was a valid question, but the thought of reading in front of all of those people made me feel like panicking. How was I supposed to get the words out with all of their eyes staring at me?
"I... I don't know. It's quite terrifying. I don't think my writing's good enough to-"
"It is," Zayn insisted, breaking my sentence up.
I glanced at him to see him smiling encouragingly at me, and I felt those little butterfly flutters in my stomach once more.
"You never give yourself enough credit, Liam. Your writing is pretty life-changing," He commented with ease. He stepped closer and leaned one arm on the pastry case to continue speaking to me. "I think you have a great way with words in your poems, and I just know everyone who hears anything you write will be automatically awestruck."
I was blushing profusely now-- if my burning cheeks were anything to go by. I didn't dare look up at Zayn, focusing on my task at hand instead, but I could feel his eyes on me, just waiting for my thoughts. He always listened to them.
"I think I want to read something, but I don't know what to read."
Some poems were far too personal. The one I read Zayn was a reliving of the tragic event that changed my family's lives forever, but I didn't feel judged under his gaze. I've shown poems to Louis and my sister, but reading them aloud was a whole other beast in and of itself.
"I can help you figure something out, if you want. We can go to the park or my art studio or anywhere else and talk about it."
I knew that Zayn was being genuine. It wasn't him forcing me to go on a date or try to be alone with him. He would literally help me just decide what to read if I asked him to.
The only problem was that I was afraid to read something so revealing to complete strangers. Even if I hadn't known Zayn for too long, he didn't feel like a stranger. He felt like safety.
"Can you help me write something new?" I found myself asking, finally looking up at Zayn. His eyes widened in surprise, and he gave out an embarrassed chuckle as he shrugged.
"Writing isn't really my forte."
"I think you have talent in it," I expressed. "Your poem was really good. You said you wanted to make me feel things like you felt whenever I read you my poem. You definitely succeeded."
Zayn's poem was beautiful. No matter how many tried it took him or how long it took him to write it all up, it was like nothing I've read before.
"Okay," He agreed with a smile. "We can work together on something. I'm good at brainstorming for my paintings, so maybe the same can apply to poetry writing."
"Can we do it tomorrow night, though? I, um... I have to talk to my sister tonight." I turned away again, finishing my task on refilling the case.
"Ruth?" Zayn wondered, and I shook my head.
"Nicola. We've become a bit distant ever since the accident. She threw herself into psychology and trying to understand our mum's actions and the way the brain works. I am always so afraid to talk to her because I don't want her to do that thing where she reads too far into my words. I just want her to be the big sister who would hold my hand to cross the street or let me sleep in her bed when I had a nightmare when I was younger. Not my therapist."
"Is that what you're going to say to her?" Zayn wondered, and I nodded.
"Her letter about me was basically her apology. She reached out to me the very moment I came home from the hospital, but I was too anxious to even read it or speak to her about it." I didn't tell any of my family members what I thought about their letters. "You're the only one I talked to after reading the letters."
"You read them all at the same time?"
I nodded. "One after another."
"Shit," He cursed under his breath. Zayn was the only one there by my side when I fully described how I saw myself. He was the only one who truly knew the extent of what the letters meant to me; how they would make or break me. He understood the severity of the situation. "You just continue to impress me with how strong you are."
I finished placing all of the pastries away, but I remained staring at the case. Zayn's voice was full of something close to pride or adoration, but I found myself shaking my head.
"I'm not," I whispered out, thinking about how badly I wanted to just rush home and lay in bed all day. It wasn't too long ago that I sat on the roof of my home and thought about jumping off. It wouldn't kill me, but it would still cause some damage-- anything to distract from the ache inside.
Of course, nobody knew about those thoughts.
"You are, Liam," Zayn reiterated. "The fact that you're standing here, working and still going to school and willingly going to speak to your sister about the divide between the two of you, it shows just how incredibly strong you are. Even if you can't see that in yourself, I will always remind you of it. Just as I will remind you that you are beautiful; that you are not alone."
I thought about Zayn's lips on mine once again. It was a thought that would cross my mind at random times of the day. I would be sitting in class just staring at my notebook, writing something down in my journal, laying in bed at night, and the action would come back to me.
His lips were soft and warm; everything about him was. The way he kissed me was tender, but he didn't make me feel like I was incredibly fragile or that I would break. Zayn was the first person that ever made me feel wanted in that way-- craved and desirable.
It wasn't that I haven't had crushes before or that people didn't have crushes on me, but it was different with Zayn. It was a good different that I couldn't describe even if I wanted to.
My fingers subconsciously traveled to my bottom lip, resting there and trying my best to remember the taste of his lips. Every time he smiled, I was possessed by my admiration of him. It still didn't make sense to me how he could feel the same way, but I was thankful that he did. He was way out of my league.
"I have another therapy session soon," I voiced, looking up at him again and removing my fingers from my lips. Zayn's eyes were locked on the action, something close to desire in his stare. But he didn't push or attempt to kiss me again, even if I would allow him to. He was truly listening to my wishes and respecting my space.
I thought about Zayn's exes he told me about. One was manipulative and abusive. He ruined Zayn's life and left him homeless after sleeping with him and getting what he wanted from him. I found that I hated him, even if I didn't know what he looked like or even what his name was. Then there was the ex who cheated on him. It made no sense to me. Zayn was perfect in every way.
"Yeah? What are you going to say about the assignment?" He asked, moving back to the counter and waiting for customers to enter as a car pulled up to the parking spaces.
"The truth. Whatever she asks me, I want to start talking about the truth."
It was a decision I only came to recently. I would try to be as open as possible. I was honest with Zayn about what I wanted and what I could handle, and there weren't any negative consequences. Perhaps that could be true in other aspects of my life.
"I'm happy for you, Liam," Zayn admitted. There was the widest smile on his lips, and I really wanted to feel them on my own again. But I knew that I wasn't ready for a relationship, and I didn't want to lead Zayn on like any of those exes did. It would break him.
"Did you ever try therapy?" I wondered. Knowing what Zayn went through, I didn't understand how he could work his way through it all without some type of help like I was receiving.
"No," He admitted. "Maybe I should have. Maybe it would have helped me actually feel good about myself sooner, but I got through it. I wasn't around my family like you are, Liam. I didn't understand that I truly needed help until it was offered to me by a mentor."
"Have you ever told your family about what happened?"
"Yes." It was surprising to me. "It was difficult for them to hear, but they understood my feelings. My mum was livid, though, and she warned me to never hide anything like that from her again. She's a very loving and caring person. My dad was also pretty upset and felt useless about the situation, but we're all at terms with it now. We're in a good place."
"That's how I want to be with my family. It's just difficult to talk to them like I talk to you."
"I'm glad you can talk to me," He assured, smiling at me one last time before the front door opened up to some customers. "You'll figure it all out, Liam. I know you can do this."
With those last words of encouragement, I lowered my face and fled back to the kitchen, hearing Zayn's chipper voice greet the customers walking up to the counter.
-----
I hesitated as I walked up to Nicola's room. We never changed anything about the house after she left-- not that we could afford to anyway-- so her room was still relatively the same.
I uses to run to Nicola's room when I was little and had a nightmare. I would feel guilty for bothering mum and dad so often, so I would go to Nicola's room at times instead. She was always very understanding and allowed me to sleep on the bed with her when I was scared.
Now, I was terrified to even step foot in the room.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, gently, but it was enough to hear the bed inside creak before footsteps walked closer to the door. I didn't have time to think before the door was pulled opened. My sister stared at me with an almost shocked look on her face.
"Hey," She voiced, to which I gave a small hello in reply. Then... silence.
It was heavy and suffocating. Neither of us knew how to start the conversation we knew we needed to have. Truth be told, I was dreading it. Would it even work? Would it even mean anything? Was our relationship able to be mended or was it already too broken to be fixed?
"Just... checking to see if you were packed. You leave tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah. Tomorrow morning, so I have to be up pretty early."
"Oh..." I trailed off, staring down at my feet. "I'll let you rest then-"
"Liam," Nicola interrupted with a small sigh. "You're not bothering me. Want to come in? We can sit and talk, and I can show you something I've been working on."
"Is it related to your school work?" I wondered, not wanting to sit and talk to her about psychology or how messed up people can get.
"It's not. Promise."
I nodded, agreeing to step inside if only to see if there was still a glimpse of the old Nicola there; the sister that I knew.
"You still have those posters up," I voiced, looking at the band posters on her wall. They were from her teenage years, and I was sure she didn't listen to them anymore, but she refused to take the posters down.
"They are a part of me, and they're staying," She jokingly glared at me. "Come. Sit."
I followed her to the bed, and we sat side by side as she grabbed her opened laptop and moved through tabs until she found what she wanted to show me. She turned her laptop screen a little more towards me as she awaited my reaction.
There was a three-dimensional model of a building on the screen. It didn't have any exterior walls yet, but it looked to be two stories high with the top floor housing four rooms while the bottom held three. Only one room had any furniture inside of it, and it looked to be a family room with a spacious sofa, a painting hanging upon the wall, a flat screened TV, two armchairs, and a coffee table in the center of it all. The colours chosen were warm and inviting, burnt oranges and just the right shades of yellow and green.
"What is it?" I wondered, trying to imagine being inside of the room.
"It's my dream home," She divulged with a dreamy sigh. Her chin rested on my shoulder as she pointed at the screen. "This is going to be the master bedroom, then right across will be a guest bedroom until I have to convert it into a kid's bedroom. Then my office space will be down the hall, of course the restroom upstairs. The kitchen and dining room will be attached but rather spacious, and the back room there is going to be a tea room with a view of a garden and maybe glass windows. I want it to be natural and inviting."
"You're creating your future home?"
"Planning for it. I already have a job lined up after I get my degree," She revealed, but she simply passed over the fact as if it wasn't a huge accomplishment. "Once I settle in and make money, I'm going to put a lot of it towards this house. I also want a smaller house out back for guests to stay in. You, dad, and Ruth can visit anytime."
"Is it going to be close by?"
"No, it's going to be in Portland. The backyard is going to be one of the main attractions of the house-"
"You're moving to Oregon?" I asked a little louder than I meant to. It was something that Nicola was just throwing on me, casually speaking as if it wasn't a huge change; like it wouldn't affect everything.
"Yeah, it's... where the job is."
"You can't move there!" I shouted, standing from the bed and feeling the panic rise within me. "I can't... You just can't move there... I... I-"
"Li, it's okay," She whispered, setting down her laptop and standing up as well. My whole body was trembling, but I didn't know if it was from terror or anger.
"You can't leave! I can't lose you!" I finally voiced, feeling the tears fall hot and shameful on my cheeks.
"Hey," She cooed, "you won't. You won't lose me, Li."
She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a hug. I held onto her with all of my might, feeling so foolish and guilty for never trying to mend things with her. We were broken, and she was leaving. It was far too late to amend.
"I'm sorry that I blamed you. You were only doing what you were passionate about, and I should have known that. I never should have pushed you away. I'm sorry for getting angry and never stopping to talk to you. I'm sorry that I made it so much more difficult for us all to get through. I'm sorry that I-"
"You don't have to be sorry for anything, Liam. None of it is your fault."
"You're... you're leaving because of me," I sobbed, feeling the ache in my chest.
"You're insane," Nicola said, but I could hear the teasing in her voice. She pulled back to look me in the eyes, and she wiped away my tears with a delicate smile on her lips. I could see the sorrow reflected in her eyes.
She didn't want to go. This wasn't a want. It was something she needed to do. For herself. It would be selfish of me to make her stay.
"You and dad and Ruth are my only reasons to stay, Liam. I love you all so much, and I never want to go a day without you, but I have to grow in life. This job is something I have wanted for a long time, and this house is my next ambition. I have to keep looking forward, but that doesn't mean I will disappear from your lives or forget you all. I will visit whenever I can and be back to tease you about your love life and stuff." She took my hands in hers. "Don't think for a second that I'm leaving because of anything that happened between us. If it's anyone's fault, it's my own. I should have been your sister, not your doctor. I understand that now, and I'm sorry I wasn't what you needed from me. I just wanted to help you through your pain."
"I know," I nodded fiercely. "I read the letter. I know you're sorry, and I know you care. You didn't want what happened to mum to happen to me, right?"
"Of course not. You're my little brother. It's my job to protect you."
Her eyes were watering now as well, even as she forced a smile and ruffled up my hair in the way only annoying big sisters could.
"But it's not your job to give things up for me. Not your passions," I voiced, calming down some but still feeling the tears leave my eyes. "Does dad know? About Portland?"
"Dad and Ruth. I just never got the chance to tell you until now."
"So, that's it? You're moving there straight out of school?"
"No. I'm coming back to visit again before I go. I'll be sending my stuff first, but you're all going to be stuck with me with two weeks beforehand. I would never leave without saying goodbye."
I didn't have anything else to say. Instead, I just wrapped my arms around her again, feeling her embrace me with just as much strength. It reminded me of when she would hug me and whisper pleasant thoughts to me after I had a particularly scarring nightmare.
She was still that same big sister. I was idiotic to think that she ever changed.
"I love you," She said. They were words that I didn't give her the opportunity to say often.
"I love you, too," I admitted.
It was like taking a breath after being underwater for so long. It was a weight falling off of my shoulders. Maybe I wasn't flying, but I wasn't fighting gravity to stand upright any longer. The broken relationship was stitched together with something that would only leave a faint scar of having ever been severed.
Because it wasn't the same. We both went through changes, but we were the same people inside. Nicola was growing, prospering, looking forward to the future, and I was proud of her.
I lost track of time of how long I stayed with Nicola, just hugging her and listening to her plans for Portland-- even her plans for our vacations to visit her, but I came to a silent realization in myself.
I wanted to mirror her.
I didn't want to be someone okay with drowning. I didn't want to sink deeper into the darkness with no way back to the light. I didn't want to be a decaying thing on the ocean floor just being swept away by the slightest movements. I didn't want to be left in the past while everyone else was moving ahead.
I needed to change as well. I saw that now, but I also knew that it would be a harsh battle back to the surface.
Maybe if I kicked and fought as hard as my lungs would allow, I could barely see the light of the surface shining through the clear ocean waters.
And maybe it wouldn't simply be an illusion.