Page 15 of Traitor

“Hey, Echo!” Oliver greets when I enter the room. I fully intended on having a bad mood, and I will— but taking it out on Oliver— being mean to him? Out of the question.

“Hi, Oli.” I say, opting for a dramatic sigh over the ruder entrance I had planned. Aka, not speaking to anyone at all.

He frowns, “Are you okay?” Curse you, Oliver Kent for being so sweet.

“I’m… alright.” I settle for the word as I plop down on the uncomfortable couch. No way am I about to garner the attention that telling the real story would get me. I want to be shown I’m cared for, not potentially start band drama.

He flits a look to Kellen, eyes wide, and moves from where he’s sitting on the floor. He lifts a guitar from his lap, placing it gently to the side before coming to stand in front of me. I stare up at his baby face as he lays a hand on my shoulder. This is the only time Oliver Kent is looked up to, unless it’s by a child or a fan. He’s only 5‘5, the shortest of us.

“Let me know if you need anything. We’re all here for you.”

I look around the room, despite living with my brother, I was the last to arrive. Much to his chagrin, he yelled at me for it all the way out the door. He hates when people are late.

Do all these people care about me? I think I can say that’s true.

Are they all here for me? Well, I’d say 3 out of 4 is an alright ratio.

If Callum is here for me, he has a funny way of showing it.

I can’t believe I’m sitting here giving him this power over my emotions once again. It isn’t fair. Why isn’t there an off switch for this kind of thing?

I’d rather feel nothing at all than this ache that lingers in my chest. The fear of falling again after hanging on to a last, frail tether of hope. Than to carry around the black hole in my stomach that leaves me feeling less than empty.

I’d rather feel nothing at all.

“Okay we’ll start with Visions and go from there,” Kellen says, actually taking some initiative as unofficial leader of the band. I’m not sure if that happened because he’s lead singer and writes songs, or because he’s tall. I mean, Callum is the same height— and the oldest— so it’s probably not that.

The way my mind always drifts to him doesn’t escape me. I have tried time and time again to remove the spot in my brain reserved for Callum Francis. He just won’t leave it. Though, I’m probably not helping my case by hooking up with him, and then continuing to hook up with him.

A year and a half ago… Has it really been that long? Time sure flies when you’re emanating self torture. And, okay, I make jokes but despite everything I can’t find any ounce of me that regrets it. Regrets him, any way I can have him.

He seemed so adamant about this second chance, and I almost hoped for a moment that things would change. That maybe, just fucking maybe, I could have the happy ending I’ve always wanted. With him.

I’ll never forget seeing him across the room at that club in L.A., the way he looked at me. I thought he couldn’t look at me that way anymore.

And maybe I was riding the high of our show, maybe I was lonely, maybe I was drunk. Maybe I have no answers for why I did what I did that night. For a moment I could pretend, almost, that we were strangers.

That when I followed him to the bathroom we were just two people with no names, getting lost in each other for a brief time. Feeling something good for once, something other than the dull ache, the pain of being human.

But when his hands were on me they were too familiar. I recognized the lips on my neck. I could feel how much he hadn’t changed in 2 years.

I would know him anywhere. I can feel him when he isn’t there. He is the flame to my moth. His touch burns me alive.

I opened up my heart, just a bit, that night. The door was barely ajar before Callum slammed it in my face again.

The second there was that smallest crack, the itty-bittiest bit of hope, I was fucked. A recovering addict taking a needle straight to the vein. I relapsed.

That’s the danger of letting him in. Once I let him touch me— let his fire burn me— there was no way I was gonna stop. Not unless he stopped it again.

His flowery words are just another example of the danger. As much as I don’t regret him, I fear what will happen if I give him that chance. I don’t trust Callum as far as I can throw him. That’s why, at least for now, I need to close the door myself.

It’s safer that way.

My heart is safer that way.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” I say, heaving to my feet with a sigh. It’s like when you’re upset the air has trouble staying in your body. Maybe it’s the body’s way of expelling negativity. Kellen would like that thought.

I take a piss and wash my hands. You know, it’s really difficult to do mundane tasks and maintain a scowl, but I think I’ve got the method down.

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