INTO THE STARS
———
BRINLEY
"I turned out liking you a lot more than I thought I would," Malachi murmurs beneath his breath, his comment dissipating in the snowy night air and shocking me ever so slightly.
"What makes you say that?"
He shrugs, his gaze focused on the ground rather than the night sky like it normally is whenever we are out here. "Just a thought that occurred to me."
After the truth or dare game tonight, I loitered downstairs and helped clean up with the others. Afterward, I was too buzzed to sleep, so I settled on passing my time on the balcony. And it just so happens that I stumbled across Malachi when I opened the door.
"I don't wanna go back," Malachi tells me, his words slurring a little, and I can't help but internally agree.
"Why's that?"
Malachi remains silent and besides the icy night breeze and the rise and fall of our breathing, I cannot focus on anything except solely on him.
"Shit is going to blow up and... I don't think I can handle it."
I keep my mouth closed in the hopes he will let his guard down. Even if it is just momentarily.
In the past week, Malachi has shown me the tiniest glimpses of who he is, and I can't help but crave more and more. Everything about him is captivating, but I need to have a bit of patience. In a way, I think I am enchanted by him and the tidbits he gives me.
"I got a phone call the other day..." he breathes out and I am unsure who is listening more to his words: myself or him. "From the prison my dad is in."
A humorless—and heartbreakingly forlorn—laugh falls from his lips. I heard my sharp and sudden intake of air in the silence and I am sure he did as well, but Malachi remains sullen, slumped in his chair, fiddling with his hands.
He slouches further into his chair, running his fingers through his hair, the strands falling messily across his forehead when he finally stops. Each inhale and exhale, I can hear, and I realize that is his way of calming himself down. Finding something to fixate on that isn't what is troubling you soothes the mind.
"He is in a coma and... I don't know why I am so torn up about it. The motherfucker deserves it for the hell he has put me and my brother through, but..." he trails off, his even breathing returning while he sorts through his thoughts once more.
My gaze remains on Malachi. The moon casts a mysterious shadow over his side profile, looking... utterly fascinating. Each angle and curve of his face is more gorgeous than I think he realizes. The rise and fall of his broad, muscular shoulders and his long legs stretch out in front as he rests on his forearms on his thighs.
He is one of the uniquest people I have ever come across in my twenty-one years of living. Correction: the most unique individual I have met.
Malachi shuts his eyes, leaning back into his chair, legs extended forward, and his knee bounces up and down anxiously. I watch his rapid bouncing for a moment before I break the silence, my chair scraping on the balcony flooring to move closer to him. His eyes flit to me, but he doesn't ask questions or say anything.
It isn't until my chair is adjacent to his, with only a few inches of space between us. I rest my hand on his thigh, halting the bouncing. I can feel his gaze glue to my profile as I stare straight ahead at the clear night sky and the stars.
Silence permeates the cold air, but I can feel the warmth radiating off of Malachi and when his hand intertwines with mine, a fire sparks up the length of my arm, heating my whole body within a few seconds. I refrain from looking at him again because I don't need to. His warmth and touch are enough to set my body on fire and I don't think I'll survive the bomb that'll explode with his gorgeous face added to it.
Malachi relaxes, I can feel it in the way he grips my hand and slides further into the seat, and comfort and understanding pass between us.
He coughs lightly and I don't know if he is prepping himself to speak or something else. "My mom, she was, uh, murdered." He pauses and I keep quiet, not sure what to say or how to comfort him. "When I was eleven-years-old."
My eyes fall onto him and I abstain from showing my shock, keeping my face impassive as I listen intently. His hold on my hand tightens as a sort of clutch. A relief.
"I was the one that found her," he mutters and all the air in my lungs expels in one stunned breath. "She was laying in the middle of the lounge room, in the dark, mutilated. I..."
His head falls back, eyes closing shut as though he is right back in that same place when he was eleven-years-old, finding his mother brutally murdered. My thumb traces circles in his palm, wanting him to focus on that rather than the memories.
"Sometimes I think about what I could have done to prevent it. Sometimes I think it was my—"
"It wasn't your fault. And you couldn't have done anything to prevent it. Someone has to be one sick motherfucker to do something as heartless and cruel as that," I interrupt, noting the sheen in his eyes once he opens them again.
With my spare hand, I move his head to look me in the eyes so he can see the sincerity behind every word I speak. He has to know in every capacity that it wasn't his fault and no matter how much he wants to go back and change it, there is always the same outcome. That is the thing about life. We all have regrets we live with, things we want to go back and alter. But the past is immutable. There are chapters in your life and every person has that one chapter they don't want to read again.
I hold his gaze, and I know he got my message when he nods. Rather than going back to his previous position, he lays his head on my shoulder and the action feels intimate, just like the memories he is reminiscing on right now.
"The mind typically erases all trauma, turning it into a distant blur, but... I relive that moment in my mind every fucking day. I remember the last few moments of my life before my innocence was robbed, and I realized the evil that resides in our world, right beneath our noses. I remember being frozen with shock, staring at her body, trying to gauge what I was seeing before reality set in. I remember how insensitive my hometown was about it because we came from the wrong side of town and how the police treated me like a suspect rather than a victim. My life was living hell, but the only thing on anyone's mind was finding the killer."
"Did they?" I ask before I can stop the question from coming out.
Another bitter but just as heartbreaking laugh escapes Malachi's mouth. "Yep. It was the bastard I just so happened to share blood and a last name with—my very own father, Vaughn. It didn't take long to catch him, truthfully. He did the shittiest job of cleaning up any evidence. Basically, his DNA was all over the crime scene, which isn't surprising. Even as a kid, I knew he wasn't the smartest."
Holy shit. Not only did his mother die in the most brutal way imaginable, but it was also at the hands of someone who was supposed to protect him from evil and love him unconditionally. My heart aches for him. Truly. By no means was my father an abiding character in my life, but before he lost control, he was the greatest father one could ask for. I can't imagine not having that support system growing up.
"Did you have somewhere else to go afterward?" I murmur the question, not expecting a complete answer. If there is something I have learned, Malachi normally keeps his past to himself, and tonight, he has already shared more than enough, displayed more vulnerability than I have ever seen.
He stays quiet, pondering, before he mutters hushed words I can hear perfectly in the serenity surrounding us. "Kohen—my brother—and I assumed we would move in with my aunt and uncle in California, but they were unfit, supposedly. The court gave little of an explanation, so we moved into a foster home, which was complete hell. I am surprised I survived the seven years I lived there, but thankfully, I got out as soon as the opportunity arose. I moved to California and my life in Florida disappeared just as fast as I did," Malachi explains.
A thought occurs to me. "Are your nightmares... about..." I trail off, preferring not to rehash the details of what he told me moments ago, but I know he understands.
"Mmm-hmm," Malachi hums. "There is no way I can escape. The nightmares feel so real. I go to bed fearing them, so I stay up for days on end because I cannot stand constantly reliving the worst moment of my life. But that never ends well because I get flashbacks when I am awake, the memories feeling just like my nightmares. That is what you saw on the balcony that first night."
I wasn't entirely sure what had happened the first night I spoke to him on the balcony. I had been partially on the road to being drunk and I sort of blocked that entire exchange out. Probably because I knew I wasn't meant to see what I had.
A placid quiet pervades around us. His head remains on my shoulder and I lay my head above his. Our hands are still entangled and a strange closeness, unity between us. We feel like one, like we are meant to be here together at this moment. Time feels frozen and I relish this comfort.
Malachi lifts his head from its place on my shoulder, breaking the contact I was savoring. In his periphery, he glances at me, his lips tipping upwards in a soft smile when our gazes connect. His muscular arm wraps around my frame, tugging me into his seat in between his legs. My heart beats so loud it causes a ringing in my ears when he wraps his long arms around my waist, locking me in place and resting his chin against my shoulder.
In my ear, he mumbles, "I have told no one that before," planting a soft kiss on the flesh behind my ear. Shivers wrack through my body for an entirely different reason than the cold.
Whatever we were is different to what we are becoming. And that knowledge is striking, if a little appreciated.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," I whisper, tipping my head back to glance at him and portray my gratitude.
"Thank you for letting me feel like I can succumb to you with no doubt or judgement," Malachi utters, his gray eyes looking almost haunted in the moonlight and a shadow of his eyelashes fanning on his cheeks.
My right hand reaches up, gripping the sharp structure of his jaw, touching the stubble scattering his skin. I draw his mouth down to mine in a feather-light kiss. Sparks fly through my body at the briefest of touches, but there is a tone in it that feels different. More connected than the past times and more deep than the others as well. Undeclared thoughts and a significant shift. He deepens the kiss, his tongue gaining entrance to my mouth and soon the taste of whiskey attacks my mouth, the scent of spice and woods overwhelms me.
I break away before anything else can happen, ignoring both of our labored breathing and instead focusing on the sky again.
"Do you ever fear the stars?" Malachi questions, running his index finger up and down the length of my outer thigh and still refusing to look up at the night sky.
"Not really, do you?"
"Sometimes," he admits faintly.
"Why do you fear the stars?"
Malachi inhales before releasing a quiet sigh. "I don't fear them. I just can't stand to look at them sometimes..."
I avert my gaze from the stars to turn my gaze to him, secretly hoping he senses my plea for an explanation. "Why not?"
"I don't like stars because... they remind me of my life. A sea of darkness with small, hopeful flickers of happiness. And they bring back memories I would rather leave forgotten."
Casting another glance at his side profile, I look at him in awe. Never in my life would I have thought to meet someone who is so... complex and interesting. His lack of words intrigues me almost as much as every single word he utters to me.
And I think, against all greater odds, I can feel myself growing attached. Growing attached to this unfamiliarity and suspense, I feel every time I am with him. I am falling into the same hole that left me heartbroken only weeks ago, but this time... I don't know if I want to crawl out.
———
AUTHORS NOTE
welcome back guys!! how are we all?
so so sorry for my little unannounced break. this past week i have been struggling with mental health issues and on top of that, been quite busy so i needed to take some time to myself. hope you all understand :)
i hope you enjoyed this chapter and malachi finally opening up a bit more. i don't want their relationship to feel rushed so please let me know if it does 😭
anyways, thank you all for the endless support. in my time away, not only did this book reach 2k votes but something gained reached 10k votes. words cannot express my love and gratitude 🫶🏻
lots of love,
rose x