Prologue
Christian
June 2021
I lean against the wall outside of the boathouse, just out of sight, trying in vain to tune out the chatter coming from behind me. How do people actually enjoy this shit? Maybe it's different when you can stand the people at your party. Or when your birthday is a happy occasion. I can't say that I know what that feels like.
Yes, you can.
Splitting a piece of cake. Sitting in that old tree on the grounds. The first genuine smile I ever saw from her and how it made her brilliant blue eyes even brighter.
Yeah… I knew that feeling once; ten years ago, today. Is that why thoughts of her are even harder to shake these days? How is it that I still feel her even though she's been a mystery for a million times longer than she was real?
Maybe it's just the timeline of it… but for whatever reason, she's living rent-free in my head lately. More than usual. Wondering if she got out of there and ended up happy, if she's okay, if she ever thinks of me, what she would be like now, if our brief time together left a mark on her anything close to the one it left on me. It's like… she's close.
But after ten years, I know how fleeting that hope is.
"Christian?" My thoughts are interrupted by Grace's gentle voice. Her dress shoes clack against the wooden porch as she walks towards me. "There you are. You disappeared, dear."
"I just needed some air." Or, rather, to be airlifted out of this interminable party with all this clout-chasing sleaze.
"Are you enjoying the party?" I take the last sip of my drink to save me from answering. I don't like outright lying to my mother. She sighs. "I know this isn't really your thing, sweetheart, but we just wanted to mark the occasion somehow."
"It's great, Mom," I say halfheartedly.
"I tried to invite more of your friends. Leila is here, did you see?"
Oh, Jesus. Evasive action. "Leila is Mia's friend, Mom." Truthfully, you could call us friends in some sense of the word, but I don't like the hope in her voice. It's fruitless. Leila and I have an understanding that Grace herself would never understand, and maybe a basic fondness towards each other, but nothing more.
"Oh," she says, crestfallen. She takes the empty glass out of my hand, giving it a maternal pat as she does. "Christian… I admit that I worry about you. You're such a loner. I know you could have friends if you'd open yourself up to it."
I have a friend. I just don't know where she is. "I have to be careful with my relationships, Mom. I won't be taken advantage of."
"There's being careful with your relationships, but I worry that you're taking it farther than that. Do you have anyone to… you know, hang out with?"
"I hang out with Elliot." But he's always with that blonde now.
"Well, that's something."
"What's this about, Mom?" A hint of irritation seeps into my tone.
"I don't know, dear, I suppose it's difficult for me to watch you be so closed-off. I know how wonderful you are, and I want everyone else to know it, too." And now I feel like an asshole for getting surly.
"Mom, I promise I'm fine. I've never been much of a social butterfly. Plus, GEH takes up most of my time. It's the nature of the job."
She nods, but her eyes retain their melancholy. "I don't want you to think I'm not immensely proud of all you've accomplished, Christian. I just… I'd love to see a little work-life balance, that's all. There, I've said my piece and I'll get out of your hair now." She holds her hands up in surrender. "Will you join us inside?"
"Just give me one more minute. I'll be right there."
She smiles, squeezes my hand, and turns back to the path leading to the house. I pace the length of the porch, running a hand through my hair.
Sometimes I do wonder what life would be like if I could connect with another person. I know I'm capable of it, because it did happen once, but since her, everything else is hollow. So, I guess the only measure that I have is wondering what life would be like if I had ever seen her again.
But even entertaining that thought strikes me as ridiculous. Who's to say whether or not it was all sensationalized in my fucked-up teenage brain anyway? For all I know, we might have passed each other on the street somewhere along the line and not even recognized it. She was a friend. Now she's a pipe dream.
I take in a slow, deep breath of the calm evening air and turn back towards the house with a purpose. The party may be insufferable, but it's at least some distraction from the bitter taste in my mouth. It's time to put the reminiscing aside and live in the present.
It's been ten years, Grey. Move on.
A/N: Hi! If you're back from Changing the Ending, thank you for giving me another shot! If CTE wasn't your cup of tea but you're here now, welcome, and thank you for giving this one a try!
You might be thinking, her again already? I thought of this about halfway through writing CTE and I couldn't get it out of my mind, but I wanted to finish that one first. Ended up starting this one the very next day after publishing the last epilogue!
Now, I have a few prewritten chapters, but disclaimer that I'm moving and going on vacation soon and then I'll be starting a full-time internship not long after, so please don't expect the same update frequency that CTE had every time. I will do my best to upload a chapter AT LEAST once a week, hopefully more than that sometimes. You know I don't like to keep you waiting, so I'm never doing it on purpose.
This story will discuss mental health and have some heavy themes. If that's potentially triggering to you, please take care of yourself. Know that I'll also include a specific TW at the beginning of each chapter if necessary.
Last housekeeping issue, I'm going to adopt the same policy I had with CTE of no spoilers in the main story, but if you have questions (HEA, cheating, etc.), you are always free to message and ask me!
