Deya's hands trembled as she turned the tap and proceeded to splash her face, hoping that the cold sensation would help her tame her heartbeat.
However, as she looked up to the mirror, tiny droplets cascading down her features, she neither saw nor felt any improvement.
Perhaps to the contrary.
God knows how she managed to stay strong throughout the day. But now that she found herself alone in the washroom, there was no pressure of being in the eye of public keeping her from breaking down. Her head feeling dizzy as she reached out for the paper towel and gently dabbed it against her skin.
Another funeral.
She leaned against the sink.
After having to part with Timmy and later her father, she haven't thought there would be another one so soon that would cause her as much grief. And yet, here she was. Feeling like another piece was cut off of her heart after seeing Patrick's body in the coffin, looking ever so peaceful.
The last goodbye.
She had to give it to Max, it was obvious that no expense was spared in planning the ceremony. From the ornamented coffin to the sizeable marble clad crematory that could easily fit hundred people and some more. And if the fact that it was nearly full capacity didn't prove just how many lives did Patrick touch, the dozens of stories she heard them share as a part of their speeches did just that. From the mischief he got into with his friends, to the help he rained on those close to his heart. Including Max whom she couldn't get her eyes off of the whole time he spoke.
Nonetheless, as much as she wanted to follow their suit, to tell them about all the ways in which he enriched her life. About all the times he saved her. About the brother he's become to her.. Her feet refused to listen, leaving her glued to her seat until the ceremony was over, much to her shame.
Who could blame her, though?
For how can you possibly talk about all the sacrifices someone made for you, when exactly that cost them their life in the end? And every time she accidentally locked eyes with someone else in the room, she couldn't help but feel that they knew. Giving her disapproving glares for the mere fact that she had the audacity to turn up.
Suddenly, the door swang open as a middle aged woman walked in. Her curls bouncing with each step she took. And despite her startle, Deya forced a polite smile before hastily gathering herself to leave.
"Don't rush out on my account, darling," The woman stopped her on her way to the door. "These things can be.. hard,"
And perhaps it was the soothing tone of her voice or the sympathetic look of those silver eyes but Deya found herself frozen in place, hand lingering on the door handle.
Where have I seen her before? Her inner voice wondered.
Nonetheless, she didn't get to ponder it for too long, for the next time her lips parted, she felt her stomach do a painful somersault. Sending her into one of the cubicles at a speed of light to empty the contents of her stomach.
Well, she sure won't forget you anytime soon. Deya couldn't help but think as she knelt down on the floor. Regretting that she wasn't able to at least shut the door as she ran in and shield herself from the embarrassment.
Then again, it turned out that perhaps the woman didn't mind as much. For she appeared by her side in an instant and scooped her raven hair out of the way in a motherly gesture.
"There, there," She murmured as she gently rubbed her back. "Just get it all out,"
And let's just say, Deya didn't need the prompting. Her stomach spasming every twenty seconds or so for what felt like eternity but really only lasted ten minutes. The ordeal leaving her sweaty and exhausted.
"Thank you, I--" She finally stuttered out, her legs wobbly as she stood up. "I'm so sorry you had to witness that,"
She could hardly force herself to glance at the woman as she made her way to the sink to rinse her mouth. Wondering if it's possible to feel better and worse at the same time.
"Honey, you got nothing to apologise for," The woman sounded surprised. "I may be old, but I still remember all the bad parts of expecting,"
The last words made Deya spit out a mouthful of water in surprise.
"Oh, no. Did I misread the situation?" The woman covered her mouth with her hands. "Was it just the nerves?"
Deya watched her for the longest of moments, wondering whether she should go with the excuse she so readily provided her. But at last, her head shook from side to side.
"No, I am pregnant, but.. " She said, and it felt strangely relieving to share the news with someone, be it a complete stranger. "How did you know, though?"
She has intentionally picked the most baggy dress she could find in the shop without it looking too obvious. Was it possible she's showing more than she has realised?
Straightening herself in front of the mirror, she couldn't help herself but scan her reflection with a worried frown.
"You look lovely, honey," The woman assured her, squeezing her arm. "But most women can sense those things. Call it an intuition or what not,"
Her reflection in the mirror gave Deya a wink. But all the latter found herself thinking about was that hopefully this didn't apply to all the women. Because as much as she loved Charlotte, she knew that once she knows, keeping her secret will become nearly impossible.
"How many kids do you have?" Deya tried to change the topic, giving her a tense smile.
Nonetheless, perhaps she would rather keep the attention on her growing belly, if only she knew..
"There's my daughter, who's here with me today. She's recently turned twenty five and graduated university," The woman spoke with a small smile, one that dropped at the pause that followed. "And then there's my son. He's.. He was thirty, and.."
Her voice broke suddenly, tears filling her eyes. And it was then that Deya realised with horror that the woman must be none other than Patrick's mother. The familiarity of the silver eyes suddenly falling into place.
"I-I'm.." She stuttered while droplets of cold sweat appeared on her foreheat, making her feel like she'll throw up all over again. "I-I'm sorry for your loss,"
The woman mouthed a small thank you as she struggled to recompose herself.
"Have you known him well?" She inquired, her eyes looking up to Deya hopefully.
"Yes, I--" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "He was as dear as a brother to me. I can't even express how much I owe him,"
Especially since you've killed him. Her inner voice added what she didn't dare to say out loud. Unable to bear the possibility that those silver eyes would colour with fury at the revelations that she's the source of their pain.
However, in the momentary silence that followed, she couldn't help but wonder whether her deafening heartbeat revealed it all, for the women simply stared at her with a sad smile.
"It's obvious you've raised him well," Deya added nervously. However, it seemed those weren't the right words either, judging by the subtle twitch of the woman's lips.
"I'm afraid I can't take credit," She noted, avoiding her gaze. "Unfortunately I haven't been the mother he deserved,"
"Don't be so hard on yourself, I--" Deya started, but quickly stopped when it earned her a firm headshake.
"This is the first time I've seen my son in ten years," The woman whispered, the volume of her voice only adding weight to the already heavy statement.
And all Deya could do was silently stand there and ponder how the hell to react to that.
Suffice to say, Patrick never talked about his family. Except while now she got closer to knowing why, it was also a reminder that perhaps she hasn't known him that well after all. Being too selfish and absorbed in her own matters to even think of asking about his.
"It's all my fault, you know?" The woman broke her out of her thoughts. "I was too bigoted to get over my own feelings and accept my little boy for whom he was. And if I spent half the time I did trying to change him to try and understand him instead, perhaps things would be different. After Don's death.. even I could see how much he suffered. But it was too late. The last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near me, thinking I only cared because I hope he'd abandoned his 'sinful lifestyle', as I've once called it,"
"I'm sorry," Deya peeped in, awkwardly reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.
"No need, it's just.." The woman waved her hand. "It's so unnatural for a parent to disappoint their child this deeply,"
Deya's heart quivered at the emotion in her voice. Unsure why she has decided to confide in her, nor whether it helped her relieve her conscience in any way. However, what she did know was that her own felt heavier now. Weighted down by guilt.
"If it makes you feel any better, the last memory I have of my mum was overhearing her threatening to my father that she'll leave if he doesn't get rid of me," She blurted out suddenly, regretting it instantly when she registered the woman's shocked expression.
"Why would she do that?" She reached out to touch her heart, making Deya hesitate.
"She just.. She was dealing with a lot in terms of mental illness. And after a certain accident, she couldn't but believe it was my fault. An opinion I shared, to be fair," Deya shrugged, bitter smile overtaking her lips. "My point is, though, that despite all that was said and done, I don't think I've ever stopped loving her. No matter how much her conduct hurt me. In fact, there isn't much I wouldn't trade for getting to spend more time with her before life has decided to take her away. And knowing Patrick, I'm quite sure that whatever happened between you didn't change his feelings towards you either, even if he ran out of time before getting to forgive you formally,"
After her speech, everything went still for the longest of minutes. The silence so impenetrable that when the woman moved at last, Deya unconsciously flinched in startle.
"You're an extraordinary young lady," She wrapped her arms around her, firmly pressing her against her chest. "And--"
Deya could hear her let out a muffled sob. One that soon made its way past her lips too as she joined her in her grief. Partially because perhaps she imagined hearing those words from her own mother. But mostly because she realised that not only did she cost her dear friend a life, she also took away this woman's chance to ever mend things.
The mere fact that she's standing there and soothing her feeling like a hypocrisy.
"I'm afraid I'm not," Deya started, voice trembling. "In fact, you should know that--"
Before she could even think of finishing the sentence, the door of the washroom flew open again. Charlotte freezing at the threshold at the scene she discovered upon entering.
"Oh," Her eyes ticked from one woman to the other. "I feel like I'm interrupting--"
"That's OK," Patrick's mum flashed her a warm smile. "We were just talking about the ceremony and got carried away,"
Charlotte reacted with a polite nod for lack of better response, then slowly turned to Deya.
"I just came to tell you that we're about to set off to the next venue," She murmured. "The taxis are waiting, but--"
"I'll be with you in a minute," Deya nodded as she wiped her tears away, turning her attention back to the woman as soon as the door shut closed again. "You'll coming with us, right?"
"Oh, no, honey," Patrick's mother gave a small chuckle, waving her hand. "Now that I had a chance to say goodbye to my little boy, it's time for me to go home. Celebrating is for the youth,"
And somehow, Deya saw that no amount of persuasion could change her mind.
"It was great to meet you--"
"Aileen," The woman inserted, squeezing her hand.
"It was great to meet you, Aileen," She repeated. "I'm Deya,"
"What a lovely name," Aileen nodded. "Promise that you'll pay me a visit if you're ever in London. I would love to hear more about you and my son,"
With that, she pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled down her address before pressing it into her hand.
Something Deya accepted with a forced smile, worrying that if she was to reply in words, she couldn't but reveal the whole truth.
And let's just say, 'by the way, I'm the one that killed your son' were hardly appropriate words to part with someone who's been nothing but kind to her.
. . .
(Later that day)
Laughter. Dancing. The sharp smell of alcohol.
Deya couldn't comprehend how could the atmosphere of the day change so drastically in the span of couple of hours. Everyone seemingly turning from grieving death to celebrating life with ease worth of envy.
Everyone but her.
Perhaps because by that point she was the only one sober. A fact that someone decided to point out to her every half an hour or so in an attempt to change that.
And let's just say, it was the first time that she gladly used her past to excuse her abstinence, for 'I used to be an alcoholic' was a lie that silenced even Charlotte's attempts to get her to the bar and without risking that her secret will be revealed sooner than she's ready to. To the world, but also, to the devil specifically.
Although, the more the evening dragged on, the more she had to ask herself whether he would even notice.
For they have hardly spoken since she woke up in the doghouse. The devil making himself too scarce to allow her to change that even if she had the courage to.
And while before she could assure herself that it's nothing more than the funeral planning keeping him busy, the excuse has now expired. Leaving her in desperation as she wished that he would as little as look her way.
"You should talk to him," Charlotte nudged her gently when she caught her longing look.
"Whom?" Deya quickly averted her eyes, hoping that playing dumb would discourage her.
As if she didn't know her friend well enough.
"You really wanna play this game?" The blonde inquired. "Because I can see that you're worried out of your mind and it won't change unless you do something about it,"
A pensive frown took over Deya's lips before she let out a sigh.
"Now is not the time," She shook her head. "He just buried his friend. Our friend. The last he needs is dealing with my drama on top of it all,"
And while her words were certainly not untrue, she couldn't deny that there was another reason. That is, the fear of getting her heart broken, especially on a day like this one.
"He seems to be coping quite well to me," Charlotte noted in his direction just as he burst out laughing at whatever the Bulldogs around him uttered. "But suit yourself. Just keep in mind that the sooner you act the better. At least you'll know where you're at,"
However, while Deya knew that all it was was a well intended advice, her blood started to boil almost instantly when the words came out.
"It's funny you out of all should say that," She hissed bitterly, watching Charlotte's brow furrow.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," Her shoulders shrugged. "Perhaps that if it's that easy, then you should go and talk it out with Jamie,"
"T-that's not the same,"
"Isn't it?" Deya pushed further, relieved to turn the spotlight on her.
"We're just friends," The blonde defended herself. "You can't compare the two,"
"Really?" Deya folded her arms. " 'Cause I've seen you this morning, and the vibes I got were way too awkward for 'just friends' "
For the longest of minutes, she watched her lips parting and closing again as she struggled for words. Expression of a hunted deer that has been chased into a corner.
"Do you really think I'm trying to hook up with your ex?" The tone of her voice was a perfect mixture of guilt and hurt, making Deya regret the severity of her attack.
"I don't know, Char," Her voice came out much softer. "But if I was the only thing stopping you, I want to say that there's no need,"
The bright blue eyes watched her with suspicion as if she thought this was a trap.
"Look," She reached out to grasp her hand. "I love you both very much. And if only a small part of you thinks that he might make you happy, I suggest you go for it. You have my full support,"
The blonde's features played with a myriad of emotion as she took in the words, but then she let out a nervous chuckle.
"How would I even know? I've got zero experience with stuff like that,"
"Well, not to sound cliché, but maybe you should just listen to your heart," Deya shrugged. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"
And in saying so, she couldn't help but note just how much easier it is to be on the giving end of an advice.
"Fine, I'll talk to him," Charlotte threw her hands in the air, making a pause. "If you do the same,"
"Oh, come on. That's not fair," Deya shook her head at how did her speech backfire. "Things between me and Max.. They're just so complicated,"
"One more reason to clear them up," Charlotte insisted as she stood up and offered her a hand.
One that Deya hesitantly accepted.
"I may never understand what you see in him," She added. "But I too want you to be happy, and it's painfully obvious that you can't be without him,"
Deya's lips pressed into a small smile. Giving her friend all the confirmation she needed.
"Now, break a leg," The blonde whispered as she span her around and pushed her into the crowd.
Only sticking around long enough to see her get out of view before she turned the other way in search of Jamie.
What a nonsense. Deya murmured to herself. And yet, her wobbly feet hesitantly carried her forward as she locked her eyes on Max.
Convinced that whatever happens, at least her uncertainty ends tonight.
Or does it?
For it was as she approached the table he sat at, endeared by the sight of his ruffled hair that tempted her to run her fingers through it as if it could solve all their problems, another figure entered her vision. Distracting Max right as his head started to turn in her direction as if he could sense her presence somehow.
Who the--
Her eyes focused on the tall woman with hair not unlike a lion's mane, mesmerised by her beauty. Nonetheless, that thought quickly turned bitter in her mind as she watched her jump on Max's lap and lay a kiss on each of his cheeks. Face lighting up with emotion she didn't like one bit.
Thump. Thump.
Feeling a tsunami of humiliation wash over her body, Deya waited to see no more as she span around, everything around her becoming a blur. Why? Just why would this have to happen right as she was about to serve him her heart on a silver platter? Or was it perhaps a sign that she has long missed her chance?
She aimlessly pushed her way through the crowd like a wounded animal in search of a peaceful place to lay down to die. Finally finding it on the empty balcony where she leaned on the bannister and looked up to the moon.
'I've already had my happily ever after, Deys. Now it's your turn.' Patrick's last words returned to haunt her again.
Except while before it was for how unselfish he managed to be in his final moments, now she couldn't help but wonder if his life was wasted away. For as much as she would like to not let his wish go unanswered, it seemed a mission impossible without his light guiding her on the way.
Perhaps there was no happily ever after waiting for her. The undeserving one. Perhaps her and Max were simply the same poles of a magnet, destined to keep pushing each other away the closer they got.
Her lips let out a bitter chuckle, lone tear travelling down her face.
Who would have thought that the happiest moments they got to live through would be spent within the confines of Chace's basement? Joined in the hopelessness of their faith.
She could see it every time she closed her eyes. The smile he welcomed her with when she snuck down to pay him a visit. His expression when she put herself out there, telling him she loved him. The tone of his voice as he confessed the same without missing a beat.
And while it happened mere days ago, now it was as good as gone. Those memories being all she had left.
"Baby girl!" A cheerful voice made her spin around at once and come face to face with Dylan as he entered the balcony. "Don't tell me you grew tired of us already?"
The woman quickly blinked away her tears, forcing a small smile.
"I just needed a breather," She murmured. "It's been a hard day,"
"So it was," Dylan nodded as he stood by her side. "But I get the feeling that that's not all there is to it,"
His eyes stared into the depth of her soul, making her wonder if perhaps there were witnesses to the humiliation she experienced inside.
"You don't have to hide the truth from me. I can see that something's on your mind," The man spoke gently, as if hoping to remind her just how close they have been at one point in the past.
"It's just..." Suddenly, Deya choked with a sob.
Instantly turning away to hide her face from him in fear of what secrets it could reveal.
Something that it turned out to be futile.
"Max?" Dylan inquired and raised his eyebrows in expectation of the nod that came. The confirmation forcing a deep sigh out of his lips.
"H-he hates me, Dylan," She cried out as she wiped her cheeks. "And the worst is, I can't even blame him for it,"
"Baby girl, that's nonsense," He hesitantly reached out and squeezed her hand, unaware just how much pain hearing the nickname brought her. "I've known him half my life, and it's safe to say that he's never been as happy as he's been since you entered his life. Everyone here can see that,"
His words only made Deya cry harder as she shook her head.
"He can't even look at me," She exclaimed. "And the last time we've talked he was so cold..."
Another sob cut off her words. The sight urging the man to pull her into a tight embrace at once.
"All you need is time, trust me," He whispered into her raven her. "Max has never been good at dealing with emotions, and now he got served more than he can bear with Patrick, you and.."
His voice trailed off, allowing them to drown in the stillness of the night. Only interrupted by the cheers of the guests inside and a distant sounds of crickets.
"Why did he do that, Dylan? Why jump in the way when it's clearer than a day that it should have been me to die down there in the basement?"
She felt his arms around her tighten. Oblivious to the fact that his own eyes slowly filled with tears.
"Because that's whom he was, baby girl. A hero. And because he loved you," His voice trembled with emotions. "So if you want to pay him back, you should focus on living your life to the fullest. 'Cause that's what he would have wanted,"
Her crying became more violent at the advice. Every cell in her body wishing to protest but unable to force any words past her trembling lips.
Like, how is she supposed to live to the fullest if it always ends up in someone's destruction?
And the next time she opened her eyes, there seemed to be a proof of such. For they instantly connected with the freezing cold oceans of the devil's eyes. The sight being far from the magical moment her heart has imagined in their absence.
"Max," She breathed out, quickly stepping away from Dylan.
But it was too late, the devil turning on his heel and walking back inside while muttering something about not wanting to interrupt.
Way to fuck up, Deya.
Her eyes desperately turned to Dylan, hoping he would assure her that it's not that bad. Nonetheless, all he did was mouth an inaudible 'go' with expression as serious as ever, something she didn't need to hear twice before she rushed off behind him.
"Max, wait," She caught him right as he was reaching the bar. "We need to talk,"
But much to her surprise, the devil looked neither angry nor annoyed as he turned around. Gently taking her hand off of his arm being the only reaction she could interpret as such.
"We don't," He replied calmly, fixing her with his gaze.
"But--"
"You don't have to explain the hug if that's your point," Max shrugged. "Dylan is your friend,"
For a second, it looked like he was about to add something else, but then he turned to the bar to order. Leaving her standing there with mouth agape at this understanding side of him. After all those times she had to deal with his jealousy that put the lives of her and whatever man has dared to as much as look her way at risk, he hits her with this?
Because while a part of her knew that she should be grateful, the other couldn't help but think that it's another proof of the broken state od things between them.
Her heart hurting more with each beat it made.
"Well, I'm glad there was no misunderstanding," She murmured as she approached him, avoiding his eyes. But it took another couple of seconds until she gathered courage to speak again, convincing herself that now is not the time to bring up the woman she's seen him with earlier.
Perhaps an act of pride more than anything.
"The guys are leaving tomorrow," She swallowed the lump in her throat, waiting for him to react in any way, but the devil hardly gave a nod of acknowledgment.
"I-I think I'll go with them," She added lowly. Forcing herself to look up to his handsome face as she scanned it for any sign that the idea of her leaving stirred something inside him.
Anything.
And yet, even that statement was left without a reply, the tears pushing into her eyes forcing her to turn around abruptly.
"Wait," The devil grabbed her elbow suddenly, spinning her around. The mere touch of his fingers making her whole body tremble.
"You can't leave," His husky voice delivered the words she longed to hear.
"I can't?" She swallowed the lump in her throat as she allowed the oceans of his eyes to sway her, not even noticing when they momentarily slipped to look at her injured hand.
"No," The devil gave a curt nod, suddenly averting his gaze. "Because I've talked to the Syndicate and.. The favour you asked for? It's arranged for tomorrow,"
Instantly, Deya's expression fell. The shattering of her hopes almost audible.
However, while her features remained stone cold, her eyes did reveal the depth of her hurt. The desire to hide it from him forcing her to yank her arm out of his hold and rush away without a reply.
After all they've been through, she was ready to deal with his fury, jealousy, or even the contempt he could show towards her at times. But today, she found out that there's one thing her heart couldn't bear. And that one thing was his indifference.
Letting her know that she means nothing to him at all.