Page 14 of Tears and Other Fears

His mouth dropped open. He sputtered. “Oh. I mean, I suppose that’s fine. I wasn’t expecting… How long have…”

Young stared at his friend before responding. “Since I ended things with Mrs. Robinson.”

They shared a silent stand-off for what felt like ages. I waited to see who would be the first one to break. It was a battle of wills on a chessboard made of my heart. “Well. Good for you, yes, I’m looking forward to seeing you both there.”

I didn’t like the power plays and the unspoken threats. All of the orchestrated back and forth was pissing me off. “This is pointless. What Young isn’t saying is that he’s skeptical of you, Samuel. He’s starting to see through your lies, and he’s bringing me to your graduation party to test you. I have a feeling you’re going to fail it like you did that test Young was stealing the answer sheet for.” Young shook his head at my words but didn’t contradict me. “I’m leaving. I’m not sure if I want to go to your graduation party. The only function I want to attend that honors you is your funeral,” I lied. Oh, I’d be going alright. And I’d have Renon with me. It was time to get all my victims in the same room.

I stood up, and Young followed after me like a sad little puppy, while Noah stared at my back in silence, the desperation from our meeting yesterday slipping away. Maybe he had finally gotten the memo. Perhaps he finally gave up on me. Everyone else always did.

Chapter 8

Young waiteduntil my hand was clutching the handle of his penthouse suite before accosting me about bailing on him this morning. He probably wanted to trap me so I couldn’t leave. I never understood why people tried to hold me tighter; it just made me want to flee even more. “Why did you disappear this morning?”

I closed my eyes to steel myself for a moment before twisting the knob and going inside. I had a feeling that this was going to be a difficult conversation, and I wasn’t feeling like my usualdon’t give a fuckself to handle it. Seeing Samuel and Noah at the same time fucked me up. Both betrayed me in their own ways. Both deserved all the bottled up anger curdling in my gut like sour milk.

To add to my misery, the penthouse smelled like sex and Samuel’s cologne. I didn’t like it. Suddenly I felt the urge to run again.

“You were holding me,” I replied with a shrug, as if that could explain everything to him. How could I possibly explain that I had a fear of abandonment? I usually left before people had the opportunity to leave me. He had the same demons as I did—had the love of his life ripped from this world. Now, he was just clinging to me because he thought I was a good enough substitute to fill that void. I wasn’t.

“I was holding you?” he asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes. You were holding me and looking all peaceful and shit. I’m not ready to leave one prison to settle into the arms of another.” My words had more bite than I intended, but I couldn’t help it. I needed out.

Young laughed. It sounded addictive. “You left because I was holding you and because I looked peaceful? You’re a mess.”

“I never pretended not to be. Just don’t expect much from me, Young. I’ll let you down. Remember what you told me? I like to crush flowers in my fist. It’ll be better if you don’t get caught up in that.”

I knew it was a lie. I had stopped feeling like a fist a long time ago. Right now, I felt empty—well, not really empty. I was filled with a bunch of nothing emotions that made me feel brimming with despair and all the other toxic shit that made me a bad candidate for healing Young. I didn’t know how to be William. I didn’t know how to be someone’s everything and repair all the little cracks of their soul so that they could feel whole again.

“You’re not a fucking fist, and you know it. There’s something here between us. Last night was…perfect.”

He wasn’t wrong. Last night was intense; it was everything I didn’t even know I was craving, but I couldn’t admit that to myself. Admitting last night meant something, would mean I’d have to admit that somewhere between revenge and knowledge, I’d learned to forgive Young for his part in William’s death. Not only that, but I’d learned to care about him, too. “I’m not William. Never will be.”

“I know that, Tav,” he whispered. “Can we just go back and pretend we’re okay for a little bit?” He must have sensed the flee in my bones, because he was changing the subject like it was easy to do. He waltzed over to the kitchen and started pulling out food, tugging on his wrinkled jeans as he bent over to look at the fridge.

After pulling out eggs and some vegetables, he straightened and searched for a frying pan. He looked handsome despite the thrown together way his clothes and hair looked. I noticed a smearing of red lipstick on his neck, a temporary mark proving that I was on him last night. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not.

“You gonna make me breakfast and ask how my day is going? Did you ever do this for William?” I asked. The only way we’d ever normalize our...friendship...was if I made it hurt. William was always going to be a constant comparison in our lives. A constant threat. A constant disappointment. No, that wasn’t right.

I was the disappointment. The filler. William was just dead.

Either way, the only way we’d ever truly get over the awkwardness was to let it hurt us so much that we became desensitized to the idea that I’d never be William, and Young would never care for me the way he cared for my twin. Maybe then we could fuck again, ’cause we sure as hell would never make love. I wasn’t capable of that.

“Yes. I did. So tell me about your fucking day, Octavia,” he gritted while chopping onions, gripping the damn knife so tightly I was certain it would slip and slice his skin. I didn’t really like the idea of blood on his hands, so I maneuvered over to him and grabbed the sharp blade and started slicing through the vegetable known for making people cry. My damn eyes didn’t even water.

“I ran into Samuel. Threatened him. Found out he wanted to fuck me again, and then found out we’re going to his graduation party. I’m thinking I’ll bring Renon as a date, just to fuck with him.”

Young paused beside me but had the good sense not to question the stream of words falling out of my lips. “Oh,” he simply said. I’d officially dumbfounded him, and I wasn’t sure if I liked that.

I didn’t believe in serendipitous moments, because the idea that everything was predestined made me sick. I didn’t want to know what kind of God intentionally stole my brother from me and turned Samuel into a murderer. But at that exact moment, my phone rang from Young’s bedroom. I dropped the knife on the cutting board and wandered over to it, ignoring the ruffled sheets on Young’s bed that smelled like us. Picking up my phone, I frowned at the unknown number and answered it.

“Hello, Octavia the Vengeful, how are you this morning?” Renon’s deep voice asked. It sounded like he had just woken up and was hungover as hell. A woman’s voice whimpered over the line, and I imagined him stroking some faceless woman’s cunt with his index finger while talking to me.

“Hello, Renon the Drug Dealer,” I replied with mirth.

“You’re just the person I wanted to talk to.”

“Oh? Why?” I asked.

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