SIX MONTHS LATER.
MY KNUCKLES RAP on Mr. Peterson's door softly and he calls me in. I tug at my sweater, suddenly nervous about what he thought of my assignment. I'd done my best to push it out of my mind and just write what I needed to write. Suddenly, I worry that I didn't word things correctly. But, I'd been honest. That had to count for something, right?
"You can shut the door behind you," Mr. Peterson says, fixing his glasses on his face. He wasn't old, but he wasn't young either. He had salt-and-pepper hair and his face still showed remnants of an attractive guy that was becoming worn down by age. I shut the door and take a seat at the chair before him, crossing my ankles over each other. "I was looking over your assignment and felt I needed to speak with you about it."
"Okay," I respond, thinking back to him flagging me down after class for a discussion. "Is there something wrong?"
Mr. Peterson furrows his brow and I see all of my letters staining the table before him, my careful script over each page. "Your assignment was to tell a story of your life in a creative way. The letters were your format, yes?"
I nod once. "Yes, sir."
"Very creative," he says. "But, Mr. Adams, I couldn't help but notice you didn't put anything else after Sebastian's death in the story. The funeral, the moving on, the letting go...where's the arc? Where's the resolution, where's the growth?"
I smile softly and go to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear before remembering I'd freshly chopped it off. It hung just above my ears now. "You're looking at it, sir."
His brows move in confusion. I clear my throat. "Sebastian once asked me to write about him. It took me months to be able to. That's my growth. That's my arc. Being able to tell you how loving him has affected me. What happens next doesn't matter; you asked for my story, this is what it was. My story was his."
Peterson rubs his chin. "It was quite moving. And I am very sorry for your loss."
I nod. I'd grown tired of hearing those words over the months. "Thank you."
I stand to leave, feeling that the conversation was done but Peterson only clears his throat. I turn back around and look at him. "Here at Berkeley...we strive for innovative students like you. I'd like to submit this to the school's newspaper. Get the story out there. Show people that they're not alone. What do you think?"
I smile softly. "I think he'd like that. Sebastian."
Peterson grins. "It's a plan, then. Enjoy your Christmas break, Mr. Adams."
I smile tightly at him again, leaving the room in a quick stride. I'm out to my car quickly, having already packed my bags in preparation for going home today. The drive back is a long one due to California traffic and when I make it back to Malibu, I'm exhausted. Aunt Amanda and the twins welcome me home with a hot meal and a family movie, though I fall asleep in the middle of it.
The next morning I slide out of bed early—which really means 8:30. Oba offers me a breakfast of champions but I turn it down, even though my stomach growled at the smell. I had somewhere I needed to be.
Sebastian's house looked the same as always, even though the boxes and stripped walls showed that everything inside of it had changed. Victor was in a white muscle shirt, carrying a brown box filled with stuff they were bringing with them on the move. "Braylen! How are you, son?" he asks, setting down the box and wrapping me in a side hug.
"Good, good. You?"
He shrugs and I see worry lines mark his dark skin. "Hanging in there. Rachel is in his room. Said she has something for you."
I nod once, turning over my shoulder and to the direction of his room. I push the door open tentatively. I wasn't ready to see it completely bare and completely empty of Sebastian. My stomach turns.
"Hey, Rachel," I greet. She was dusting off an old desk and turns to smile softly at me.
"Braylen. Hi. How's school?" she asks, dusting off her pants. "We're all so proud of you at Berkeley."
"Thanks," I say. "And it's great. I really love it there."
She grins before reaching into her back pocket. There's an envelope with my name on it and my heart breaks as I realize I recognized the handwriting. It was his.
I take the envelope with shaky hands, messing around with it with my fingers. "We found it in his dresser. I-I didn't open it. I figured it was for your eyes only."
I look up at her eyes, tears pooling in my own. "You don't want to keep this? He was your son."
She shakes her head, closing the envelope in my hand. "He didn't belong to anybody but you, Braylen."
I smile softly at his mother, grabbing her hand and squeezing it once. "He loved you, Rachel. Just...there was so much on top of him."
She nods tiredly. "I know. I know that. He loved you, too," she whispers. "I know he shut you out those last couple of months. What with everything going on."
I nod. This had all been explained to me after Sebastian died. Sometime after our Maine trip, he'd received a subpoena regarding Aaron's arrest. It turns out that Sebastian's higher status wasn't saving him from getting in trouble about buying illegal drugs and this time there was no silly plan to get him out of it. Sebastian had bottled all this up, skipping school and driving two towns down for beer and drugs. He'd asked his parents to lie for him, claiming he didn't want to worry me.
I felt so guilty when I found this all out. I disappeared into my room for a day and nobody could coax me out. It took Devin arriving over 24 hours later to force me to stir movement.
"We both failed him," he whispers sadly, staring at a photo of the two of us on the beach as he sits cross-legged on my floor. "I should've tried harder to be there for him. I knew something was off just as much as you did."
My throat croaks as I speak. "No, this is on me. You weren't in love with him."
"But I loved him," he argues softly, setting the picture down. "I love him so much that I hate him for doing this. How could he be so selfish? How could he not think of how we'd be affected by this? How couldn't he think of us?"
I sniff solemnly. "We were all he ever thought about, Devin." Emotion slips through my voice and I bring the back of my hand to my nose, breathing slowly. "Even when he was saying goodbye, he was telling me what he wanted for me. How he wanted me to be happy. He loved us, Devin. But sometimes that's just not enough. It's not your fault."
Devin looks up at me accusingly. "When are you gonna take your own advice, then?"
I stare at him for a moment longer before breaking down, warm tears streaming down my face as my body wracks in sobs. It was the first time I'd cried since the Ball last week, and all the hell I'd endured was wrapped into it. Devin slides off of the floor and onto the bed next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his side.
"It's not our fault and it's not his either," he whispers as my cries quiet down. "It's not your fault."
I take a deep breath, one that sits heavy on my chest and weighs down my bones. I stare at the envelope again before looking up at Rachel. "It was good seeing you again, Rachel."
Rachel smiles sadly. "And you, sweetheart. You take care."
I purse my lips as I nod and then walk out of the room and out to my car, nearly knocking over moving boxes as I go. Rachel and Victor planned to move down to LA and were even selling the house. Now that Sebastian is gone, there was nothing holding them to Malibu any longer. Besides, all everyone would talk about was how sorry they were about Sebastian's death. Then, it would always come back to if they knew why he was suicidal. And what can you say to that?
Berkeley was my escape. LA is theirs.
I'm driving away from the house with shaky hands and some heavy feeling in my stomach, one that has me fighting back tears. I switch on my blinker without even thinking and drive onto the freeway, following the route that I'd only seen taken one time but yet knew like the back of my hand.
I'm there in less than thirty minutes, the bustling square full of kids running around in Christmas sweaters and couples heading towards the ice skating rink. I'd been here just last Christmas, and yet it seemed like ages ago. Like years had passed.
I clutch the envelope in my hand and climb out of the car, the door shutting loudly behind me. Pretty soon I'm just another body walking through crowd of people here to celebrate Christmas. Just another person passing through their lives, just as they're just people passing through mine.
I walk the perimeter around the rink before leaning over and simply watching the skaters. My eyes catch on two boys laughing loudly as they attempt to stand upright on the ice, clutching onto each other's arms. A slow smile spreads on my lips, one tinged in sadness and something else entirely, something that felt like a bittersweet nostalgia.
Somethings drops onto my hands, landing on the envelope with a soft thump. I glance up and watch as tiny little white flecks of ice fall down from the sky onto me and my jacket, a harsh laugh leaving my lips.
It was snowing in Malibu.
It was just a snow machine a few feet away from me, but that doesn't stop me from lifting my face towards the sky and letting the cool snow fall onto my skin. It reminded me of the snow fight Sebastian and I had had in Maine and another laugh escapes me as I turn around in the snow.
When it gets too cold, I leave the small flurry of snow and return back to my car, driving back to my house. Oba greets me with a warm hug and promises of Hiro and the rest of my half-siblings arriving in just two days. It was the first time I'd meet Dai and Emiko and I was more than excited to see them. My friends would be stopping by for Christmas dinner as well, since everyone was back home again.
I give Oba a small kiss on her cheek before pulling away from her hug and walking up the stairs to my bedroom, a sudden exhaustion taking over me. I slide out of jacket and pants and instantly climb underneath my covers. It felt safer under here, like nobody could see or hear me. It was enough comfort for me to gather up the courage to open up the envelope Rachel had given me.
I take a couple of breaths before opening it and slipping a piece of paper out. My eyes instantly pool at the sight of his handwriting. As I read the small note, I allow the tears to overcome me completely. I'd lost count of how many tears I'd cried for Sebastian Grey, but these ones were different. They weren't just because of pain. They were because I loved him.
And he loved me. I knew that now, with hot tears streaming down my face and this hollow feeling in my chest. I didn't know if it would ever go away. But the pain was just a reminder that he was here, and for a brief moment, he was mine.
And some part of me would always be his.