Hi, everyone! Sorry it's been a bit longer writing this one. It came out a lot longer than I intended, but I read back over it and couldn't find a good place to split it into two chapters. So it's just stayed as one. Anyway, let me know what you think!
Chapter 15: Diamonds
Warren's POV
The pain won't die down. Those words keep stabbing me throughout afternoon classes. Words and sentiments I've heard before many times, sometimes from other people, sometimes in my own head; that I'm helpless, that I did absolutely nothing to prevent my life and my mom's life falling apart, that I was powerless to do anything, that I've been powerless ever since. Yes, I've heard them before. But never in her voice. Old taunts and conspiratorial whispers fill my ears; from non-supers, who only knew that my dad was arrested, about how I must be a menace and a screw-up, too, or from supers who knew everything about my dad, about how I'm a sure-fire villain, how I'll be a danger to anyone and everyone, especially with powers like mine. They echo within me, growing in strength with each reverberation, morphing until every single one is spat in the one voice I never thought I'd hear such things from, the one voice I hoped would never say them. The fact that she's so against the hippie's plan – which I'm going along with mainly to protect my relationship with her – only makes the pain that much keener. My eyes burn, my head is full to bursting, my ribcage is too tight, and something deep inside me hurts.
The cacophony only grows, pushing me ever closer to a meltdown – whether figurative or literal, with my powers – so I excuse myself from class and hurry to the bathroom. After deeming hiding in a single cubicle would be too claustrophobic, I lock the main door after making sure I'm alone in here. I slump against the back wall, tipping my head against it and grasping my hair by the roots as my breath quickens in response to my inner turmoil. Fury and pain like I've felt only when my dad was taken away crash together in a storm, the violence of it quickly becoming addictive and tempting. I lift my head to glare at nothing in particular as I pant against the wall. I push the heels of my trembling hands against my temples as I screw my eyes shut, knowing full well how futile it is to try to contain this explosion. As the voices get loud enough to make my ears bleed and my head burst, a bellow of sheer emotion rips itself from my chest, and I twist around on my knees to smash my fists repeatedly into the dry-stone wall, flames erupting from them with every hit. The pain in my knuckles flares with each hit in a pathetic attempt to drown out the mental torment with physical pain. My flames dazzle me in the dimness of the bathroom, blazing imprints in my eyes that can't displace her expression of disgust and accusation.
Eventually, I run out of steam, my punches losing power, my flames dying down, and my grunts settling back down into heavy breaths. I lean my forehead against the now slightly soot-stained wall, too weak to keep my head raised any more. My knuckles are agony as they rest limply and heavily on the floor. The silence is the worst part though; where once there was noise, there's now only the betrayal. My eyes start burning again, but more insistently, and my nose feels suspiciously tickly. I swipe my arm angrily over my face. I haven't cried in years, for anything or anyone, and I'm not crying now. Twisting again to rest my back against the wall once more, I suddenly realise I have no idea how long I've been in here. I sigh wearily, really not wanting to go back to class but also not wanting to push my luck. I pull out my phone to check the time, but frown at the message notification.
Is Mom going to be held up at work again tonight? Does she need me to wait at school until late?
But my breath catches in my throat as I open my messages; it's from Kaitlyn.
If it were from any other person I was angry with, I would throw the phone at the wall, possibly breaking it, and ignore the message completely for at least a few hours. But with her…. The rift between us is agony, and the desperation to connect with her again wars with my trepidation about potentially making myself vulnerable. What if she's just messaged me to say we're no longer friends? Or to say that she meant every word she said? Eventually, desperation wins, and I open the message with my heart in my throat.
"I'm so sorry."
There's more to the message, but that first sentence smashes through any semblance of composure I convinced myself I had; my vision blurs almost immediately, and a choked sound bursts out of my throat, which I try to contain with a clenched fist in front of my mouth. I will the tears in my eyes to retreat, taking a few bracing deep breaths before I look back at the message.
"I'm so sorry. I was horrible to you at lunch. I said an awful thing to you, something that isn't even true, in such cruel words. I have my own reasons for hating this plan so much, but nothing can excuse what I said and did. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'd gladly receive it if you think it's worth giving it."
I hang my head between my bent knees, sniffing. I'd given up on fighting off the tears pretty quickly, and I reach for some toilet paper to clean up the mess on my face. Shit, to have completely destroyed me like this with just a text…. She holds so much power over me because of how deeply she's worked herself into my life and heart. And while that terrifies me, it's also exhilarating and comforting and right. So, I hit reply and start typing.
"I am not a forgiving person. So the fact that I am willing to forgive you, and so quickly, should say a lot about what you mean to me. It turns out I can't be without you, Kaitlyn Rivers."
I set my phone back to vibrate so I'll know if she replies before cradling my face in my hands, breathing deeply. The storm has completely cleared, the weight has lifted from my chest, and my heart has settled into something more comfortable. After a deep, cathartic sigh, I pull myself to my feet and walk to a sink to splash water on my face. Exhaling in satisfaction as the chill freshens and rejuvenates me, I smile in the mirror at the droplets dripping off my face; of course her element is the one that calms me and strengthens me. As I rage and blaze, she just comes along and soothes me with this life-sustaining liquid.
My phone buzzes, and I almost fumble with a paper towel and the device in my haste to read the message.
"Don't ever start that kind of message with a sentence like that again! I thought my heart was actually going to shatter right here in Strat and Tacs class! Only my weird desperation to pay attention to every word you say made me read the rest of the message, and stopped me from thinking you hated me and wouldn't ever forgive me."
Re-reading the first sentence of my message, I can't help but laugh as I realise she's right; taken in isolation, it sounds like a refusal to forgive her. I lean against the sinks as I start typing again, a small smile on my face.
"Sorry, I wasn't really thinking straight when I sent it, so completely missed that."
I pause briefly, reading back over her message and wondering how much I should probe, for the sake of my own sanity. But as always, I'm a sucker for taking risks with her, so I type out another message:
"Do you really mean that? That you thought your heart would shatter if I hated you?"
I stare at my phone anxiously, blood pounding in my ears as I wait for her reply. After probably only seconds that feel like hours, she replies.
"Of course, I do."
Gazing in dazed elation at this message – one that is a clear admission of how much I apparently mean to her – I almost miss her next message:
"Being apart from you hurts sometimes, even before today."
My eyes fall shut as something flares to life in my chest, pushing my trembling breath out of me.
"Oh, shit, Kait," I lament, breathlessly, pressing the phone to my forehead. "You're making it really difficult to keep us simple and safe."
But this newly-ignited flame is reckless in its joy, and I'm replying before I can convince myself it's a bad idea.
"I know what you mean. I'm only ever really myself and at peace when I'm with you."
"It's the same for me," she admits quickly.
I bask in these shared vulnerabilities, these shared needs, for a few moments before I make a decision to do something I bet we both need right now, to hell with however dangerous it might be.
"Do you want to come over this evening?"
With how raw we are right now, it may be safer to keep our distance. But all I feel is an inexplicable bone-deep urge to have her close to me again. When she responds with "Very, very much. More than I can fully express", I know she feels the same ineffable pull towards each other, which is both terrifying and thrilling.
Suddenly noticing the time, I swear softly as I realise I've passed almost the entire lesson in here. Quickly checking my face in the mirror is presentable and normal-looking, I leave the bathroom just as the bell rings. Most of the students ignore me as they leave the class and I enter, but the teacher raises an eyebrow at me; I'm normally a dedicated student, and missing so much of class isn't like me. But because of my usual dedication, most teachers and I have an understanding, so as I collect my bag and walk past him again, he murmurs, "Chapter seventeen covers the basics of the usefulness of different knots, which we discussed. Have a think in your spare time about various scenarios you'd find each of them useful."
"Thanks," I say gratefully. He nods meaningfully before returning to packing away his own things.
As I leave the classroom, I'm again a war with myself; I feel I should be walking slower, or at a normal pace, to give myself time to prepare for this bad decision, but I also just want to be by her side as fast as possible. My heartbeat picks up with every step until it's thundering in my ears as I lean against a stone wall outside near the bus stops, eyes vigilantly scanning the crowd for her. Every flash of rich brown hair, every hint of blue clothes immediately draws my attention, setting my heart galloping, and I curse myself for this giddiness after six false sightings of her. Another three torturous minutes pass before the crowd seems to suddenly naturally shift like the damn parting of the Red Sea, and she walks through the middle, spell-binding eyes fixed on me and her expression of cautious joy. I stop leaning, pushing myself to stand straighter, my breathing picking up inexplicably as she gets closer, suddenly panicking about what I should say to her. But she sends me a meaningful look as she deviates, stopping to lean against a nearby lamppost, immediately pulling her phone out. Before I can wonder too long about what she's doing, my phone buzzes with a text.
"I'll stay over here until it's emptier. Unless you're okay with the whole school seeing us hug."
As I glance up smiling, her face quickly morphs into concern before she types some more.
"As long as you're okay with a hug. I don't want to just assume. I know I still screwed up big time."
I huff out a single laugh, my eyes closing and eyebrows drawing together briefly as I'm touched by her consideration.
"I'd really like to hug," I reply, "and thanks for thinking about an audience. I already have the reputation of the angry kid of a villain. I'd rather avoid feeding the gossip mill."
"Understandable," she reassures me. "If everyone knew I was the abused reject, I'd want to limit what people saw and heard about me."
"You're not an abused reject, Kaitlyn. At the very least, that's not all you are."
"And nor are you just the angry kid of a villain. Guess we're both better than we think we are."
I laugh again at how she turned this into some sort of compliment competition, which – let's be honest – she handily won.
As we wait for the hordes of students to clear, my eyes keep drifting to her, some sort of gravitational pull drawing me back to her no matter how many times I jerk my eyes away self-consciously. The only thing that stops me from mocking myself too much about it is the fact that almost every time my eyes wander to her, I find her surreptitiously staring right back, glancing away just as shyly. She looks absolutely stunning in grey jeans, blue T-shirt and silvery hoodie, and I can't help but wonder if she has a hidden power of making mundane clothing beautiful. Her bus eventually leaves, and she waves to Layla in the window, who waves back with that sunshine smile of hers.
Finally, the courtyard clears. Her eyes track the final student, walking to the edge of the school and taking off into the sky, then turns back to me when it's just us. A beaming smile bursts across her face, and my heart blooms in response. She almost runs over to me – I barely have time to take a few steps – before she throws herself at me. I catch her as she flings her arms around my neck, grunting slightly as we collide, but draw her closer anyway. She buries her face in my shoulder while I press my face into her hair, greedily inhaling the fresh, raindrop scent of whatever deodorant she uses. My breathing threatens to shudder with the relief at having her with me again, but I'm pretty sure I do a good job of suppressing the urge.
"I'm sorry," she whispers brokenly into my jacket.
I give a small shake of my head as I sigh. Of course, that would be the first thing she says to me in person, despite already fully apologising earlier.
"I know," I reassure her, gently.
A short, pregnant pause passes between us before she murmurs again. "I missed you."
I can't help my short, startled laugh. "It hasn't even been four hours."
"I missed you," she repeats.
There's no stopping my breath from trembling this time, so I just surrender to the symptom of my almost overwhelming joy, tightening my arms around her and hoping she understands from the gesture what I'm not brave enough to say: I missed you, too.
For the next few minutes, even after we release each other, we stand in silence. We're just enjoying each other's presence again, but at the same time, there's a touch of awkwardness; it's like we've half forgotten how to act around the other, and I struggle to come up with conversation topics. When Mom pulls up in the car, we're still quiet as we climb in.
"Hi, honey! Hello, Kaitlyn!" Mom cheers at us.
We seem to relax slightly at Mom's calm and warm presence, but still don't say anything other than happily greeting her. Mom lets the reserved atmosphere linger until we touch down outside town, then raises an eyebrow in the rear-view mirror.
"You two are awfully quiet," she notes.
Hopefully only I can hear the hint of awkwardness in Kait's laugh.
"Just a long and exhausting day," she explains. She carefully locks eyes with me. "I was just taught something unpleasant about myself that I'd rather have learnt in a less traumatic way."
A quiet huff escapes me through my nose, and the smile I give her is small but heartfelt and genuine. I nod to her slightly, in both thanks and agreement.
"It's one thing knowing in your head that you're a flawed human being," Mom says sympathetically. "It's a whole other experience to be slapped in the face with it. Want to talk about it?"
It's nothing short of a miracle that Kaitlyn shakes her head so casually. "No, I'm mostly fine now. Just weirdly tired and a little raw."
"That'll pass," Mom reassures her. "I've got some leftovers of a nice pork stew I made recently that always seems to comfort me, so let's have that tonight."
Kaitlyn smiles warmly at Mom in the mirror. "That sounds amazing. Thanks."
She takes a deep breath before smiling at me, the normality only slightly forced. "You, uh, really need to teach me how to do a standing backflip."
I blink at her. "Wait, how do you know that I can do one?"
She raises her eyebrow. "What, did you forget you did one in Save the Citizen two days ago?"
"Oh, you were selected to fight, honey?" Mom glances in the mirror, interested. "How did it go?"
"Oh…uh…" I pause, stumbling over words because of Kaitlyn's disbelieving expression that I didn't tell my mom about anything that happened that day. "We won."
I can't help but smile at Mom's delighted gasp. "That's brilliant!" she cheers. "Well done, little spark! Was it against those arrogant jerks who always pick villain? Did you take them down a notch or two?"
"Yeah," I smirk darkly at her.
"Glad to hear it!" she chuckles, satisfied. "Who was your partner?"
Both of us in the back suddenly freeze. Kait studiously avoids my gaze, uncertain, maybe worried that this will hammer further in the knife she stuck in me this lunch. I swallow, uncertain myself about how Mom will react to it. Eventually I encourage myself to answer.
"It was, uh, it was the Stronghold kid."
A fragile silence blankets the car. Shifting in my seat in both discomfort and to try and glimpse Mom's face in the mirror, I wish I was facing her so I could read her expression. Kaitlyn looks equally desperate in her curiosity.
"Oh," Mom finally stutters, still evidently shocked but her voice is easy rather than strained. "That's-that's wonderful. Congratulations to you both. I'm very happy for you."
Dying to clear the awkwardness in the air before we suffocate, I scowl. "Mom, stop making it sound like I announced our engagement."
My plan works; Kaitlyn immediately bursts out laughing, the joyful sound instantly coaxing my own smile, and Mom chuckles heartily in the front seat.
"Alright, smartass," she says as she pulls into our driveway. As she turns the ignition off, she sighs and briefly settles into the seat before meeting my eyes meaningfully in the mirror. "I am pleased though."
I hold her warm gaze easily. "I know."
She flashes me a bright smile before stepping out of the car, so I follow her after sharing another smile with Kaitlyn, grateful that it felt so much like how I'd smiled at her before and that it was so easy for me to do so.
Entering the house, Qīng is obviously ridiculously happy to see us all, but particularly Kaitlyn; he jumps up on her to snuggle as close as he can, and she bends down so she can fuss and hug him properly. It's almost like he realises how close he came to losing her, and, not for the first time since getting him, I wonder how much he actually can understand and sense about the world around him. I can't fault him for his joy or his attachment though, so I scratch him fondly behind his ears as I pass them.
Most of the evening is blissfully ordinary. Kaitlyn and I set up our homework on the table, and Mom joins us for a little while studying a few cases of hers, but then eventually starts preparing dinner instead. An easy normality sits at the table, with Kaitlyn and I eventually abandoning working separately and instead discussing the various points to make in her essay about the psychological effect of heroes' specific words and actions and body language on nonsupers caught up in a disaster. Even Mom throws in her own experiences occasionally. Watching Kaitlyn get so excited and enthusiastic about this sort of activity makes me smile fondly at her, and I don't realise I've been staring for a while until she catches me and ducks her head, smiling shyly. Qīng stays by her side the whole time, either sat up proudly by her side, sometimes laying his head on her lap, or lying down by or on her feet. I'm pretty sure they're both comforted by the closeness.
We're just finishing another delicious dinner when Mom's mobile rings. She sighs as she picks it up.
"Hi, Jen…. Yeah, that's tonight, but I'm not part of that team…. Oh, I see…. Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, I'll head over to get them now."
I frown as she hangs up and starts gathering stuff into her bag again. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," she smiles at me, tired but reassuring. "There's just something happening at a foster home tonight – sort of a cross between a surprise inspection and a raid, I guess. But they're another one that's been tricksy in the past with already-gathered evidence mysteriously vanishing. So, Jen wants me to grab the file we've put together from the office and keep it with me, given that the office is where evidence has gone missing previously."
"Oh, okay." Still frowning, I watch her immediately switch to mission mode; her eyes harden in determination and become laser-focused on whatever needs doing. "How long are you going to be?"
"Uh, an hour, maybe two," she answers distractedly.
"Alright," I mutter.
She's just about to walk to the door when she registers my facial expression. "What?"
I hesitate, sighing. "Just…be careful."
Her face softens again into the mom I love, and she leans down to kiss the top of my head. "I will, promise." She turns to Kaitlyn, who's smiling at both of us. "You may well have gone by the time I'm back, so I'll say goodnight to you now."
They both hug, and I smile weakly as Mom runs her fingers through my hair as she walks past again, and I keep smiling right until the door closes. Then my face falls as I fix my eyes on the table, suddenly unmotivated, my shoulders slumping even further as I sigh heavily.
"Does this happen a lot?"
I startle at the voice and stare wide-eyed at Kaitlyn; I'm so used to being left on my own when this happens that I'd forgotten that she was there. Half a second passes of anxiety at being seen in such a vulnerable position, before her familiarity banishes those fears. Eyes shifting dejectedly to the table again, I shrug.
"She tries not to let it happen, but…" I shrug again, sighing. I shoot her a rueful smile. "I guess that's what happens when you love your job and you're damn good at it."
The smile she gives back is far too sympathetic to bear, so I avert my eyes again. She pauses for a few seconds before continuing.
"Does she know how much it upsets you when she leaves like this?"
I frown, leaning down to deliberately fuss Qīng, who looks at me with his big soulful blue eyes. "I didn't know it upset me this much," I confess. "I've never reacted like this before to her leaving for her job or to do hero things." I pause. "I guess I'm feeling more vulnerable tonight."
In the heavy silence that follows that theory, I continue to try and find answers – or at the very least comfort – in Qīng's eyes. "It's not so bad when she leaves, I guess. I still have my dog when she leaves me at home. You know, the other of the only two close living things in my life."
Heart in my stomach, I focus only on Qīng, pulling him close and smiling minutely, touched, when he places a paw on my leg. The lead around and inside my heart starts to gradually seep away as I hold him, but another hand suddenly touches mine as it also brushes lovingly over his fur. I look up sharply, surprised, to the owner of the hand. Kaitlyn smiles comfortingly, her aquamarine gaze immediately surrounding me soothingly.
"Plus me," she says quietly.
The hint of a cautious question in her voice and expression almost breaks me. She's still scared, still unsure, still unaware of exactly how much I need her in my life. I take her hand in mine, holding her fingers and rubbing my thumb over her knuckles.
"Plus you," I agree, smiling gratefully. Her gorgeous eyes fill with crystalline tears, her smile so warm it melts the rest of the heaviness right off my heart, leaving it to glow like a settled fireplace, its heat bleeding into my cheeks. After a few seconds of staring at each other, she sniffs suddenly, self-consciously glancing away.
"And, you know, plus Lin, because she'd kick both our asses if you forgot about her."
I chuckle. "You're not wrong."
As we settle into silence again, I bask in the comfortable atmosphere, breathing in deeply to relish the warmth and security. Once again, when I'd been feeling isolated and alone, she'd reminded me of all the people I still have around me. I should have known she'd never leave me feeling alone.
"Of all the things I ever thought you'd be," she muses quietly, "for some reason, 'lonely' was a lot lower on the list."
"Is it pathetic?" I mutter, powerless to look away from her.
"Definitely not," she scowls at me reproachfully for a brief moment before softening her expression again. "It makes perfect sense. Anyone would feel lonely in your situation."
I shoot her a relieved and grateful smile, which she returns before turning back to the table, standing and beginning to collect plates.
"Let's get this cleaned up," she says.
"You don't have to stay and help, you know," I say, though I'm not entirely sure why I'm giving her an excuse to leave.
Thankfully, she just raises an eyebrow in reply, her expression obviously saying "I dare you to try and stop me". I smirk then follow her through to the kitchen with more dishes. I gently push her aside as she stands in front of the sink that she's already started filling.
"I'll do that," I insist.
She shrugs easily. "Okay, I'll dry."
I shake my head, smiling at her persistence in offering help, but don't argue. With the two of us in the kitchen together, it's a bit cramped. I don't remember ever having such strong physical reactions to washing dishes, but I must just be more physically sensitive right now; the heat gathering in my cheeks is nothing to do with her reaching for a plate near my arm, and is instead because I've got my hands in warm water; the way the hair on the back of my neck stands on end tells me there's a draft somewhere, because it definitely doesn't have anything to do with her standing really close behind me to put something away. These sensations aren't particularly unpleasant though, and her proximity is soothing and reassuring. I find myself smiling as she sings softly to herself along with the music that she obviously put on before we started. As we both finish our respective jobs, she sighs as she puts one final plate away. She takes a deep breath, pausing in a decidedly ominous way before forging ahead.
"Can we talk?"
I freeze in the middle of wiping down the countertop, my heart suddenly in my throat. I look at her warily, but I'm weirdly comforted by the fact that she looks as terrified and uncomfortable as I am. She rubs her arm, obviously wanting to avoid my eyes but forcing herself to look back at me often.
"I know you've forgiven me, and I'm more grateful than I could ever say. But I feel like we swept by it too quickly, and I don't just want to gloss over it."
Swallowing thickly, I nod, place the cloth back next to the sink, then lean back against the countertop with my arms folded. She leans against the countertop opposite me, rubbing her T-shirt between her fingers and avoiding my eyes again. Eventually, she inhales deeply and looks eyes with me.
"I'm sorry."
"I know you are," I immediately respond. "I could tell as soon as I read that text how genuinely sorry you are. And you just said that you know I've forgiven you, so that's not it. What's really wrong?"
I've said that to her before, I realise. After my Save the Citizen fight, when I caught her blowing up at Boomer, she'd suddenly collapsed into me, looking all lost and helpless in the face of her new anger. She'd tried to brush off her distress both earlier that day when we were texting and in that moment, when she had focused on how she'd been scared for me in the fight. But I could tell then, just like I can tell now, that there's something else. And I don't know what it is, but that realisation, that depth of understanding I have with her, that ease with which I can pick through her heart, makes me feel like a champion, like that's my superpower.
The smile she gives in response to my question is a strange mixture of comfort and resignation. She swallows a few times, seeming to take a breath to speak before stalling. Again, she steels herself before meeting my eyes again, speaking in a rush.
"I still hate this plan."
I nod, unsurprised. "I figured it was something like that."
She sighs, guilty but desperate. "I just hate having so many friends unhappy." She suddenly frowns, her expression shifting to one of dejection. "Unless, of course, you're actually happy with the arrangement."
I'd told her I was, back in the gym at lunch. I'd said that messing with Stronghold's head was worth the inconvenience and discomfort of the situation. I might well have meant it, too. But I was angry and defensive, saying and believing things that just aren't true. Now that I've cooled off, and had more time to process the hippie's plan, I can't even pretend that they're true. Not to her.
I sigh, too, averting my eyes. "Not especially," I confess.
She expels a sort of small grunt of pain. "Then I just don't understand…"
She trails off, but the implication is clear: I thought I understood you, and I don't right now.
I drag my hands down my face heavily, groaning in frustration at what a mess this is turning out to be. She'd understand if I told her the real reason why I'm doing this, but that's the whole point of going along with this plan; to not let her find out how I feel about her. Taking a deep, bracing breath, I lock eyes with her before I speak.
"This isn't about Stronghold, okay?" I explain quietly. "Yes, I can mess with him a bit, if Layla's plan works, but that's barely a reward. But I swear to you, there is a good reason why I'm going along with this." I press my fingers into my eyes before rubbing my temples, brow furrowed. "I just can't tell you what it is."
That's as much as I'm telling her. As much as I can tell her without ruining everything. She listens patiently, attentively, to the mangled non-explanation I give. She processes it in silence, and a torturous minute passes as she considers it carefully. Eventually, she meets my eyes again.
"Okay."
I blink at that one word she murmurs, her face calm, with very little of the tension from earlier. She smiles at my reaction, shrugging lightly.
"You say there's a good reason for you doing this," she explains. "I should have known that right from the start, and I'm sorry I didn't. Don't get me wrong, I'm kind of put out that you can't tell me what that reason is, despite how close we are. But, now that I'm calmer, I remember that you wouldn't go through with this lightly. I trust you."
Those three words will always make me feel like I'm flying. The fact that she's willing to accept this shitty situation just because I tell her that there's a good reason that I'm doing it, with no details of that reason…. The number and quality of the gifts I've been given over my life have been understandably but disappointingly low, compared to other kids my age, especially at school. But now, it's like she just handed me a flawless diamond. Her trust is by far the most precious thing I've ever been given.
A breath I didn't know I'd been holding eases out of my mouth, and some tension around my shoulders is suddenly alleviated. "Thank you," I murmur sincerely, smiling tiredly but happily.
She looks just as drained but satisfied when she smiles back. "Thanks for talking some more. I know you probably didn't want to dwell on what was said at lunch. I know I didn't. But I really needed to talk to you about it again, more calmly."
I nod, conscious of the cathartic feeling of talking this through with her. In the following comfortable silence, we simply stare at each other, gentle waves of warmth and affection passing between us, somehow…more than before; more intense, more natural, more real. Her eyes suddenly widen in joy, and she turns to the portable speaker resting on the countertop behind her, turning the volume up.
"Oh, I love this song!"
She puts the song back to the beginning then turns to me with a smirk, joyfully singing along with the opening directly at me.
"I can be a liar, I can be a cheat! I can be neurotic, I can be a freak! I can be everything in between, but you always find the best part, the best part of me!"
Chuckling at her simple joy, I shake my head. "You have no right to sing that."
She places her hands on her hips, affronted. "And why not?"
"Because you're none of those things," I smile warmly.
Her eyes widen as she's taken aback, but I just continue smiling at her. Eventually she smiles back shyly, averting her eyes as her cheeks bloom red.
"Oh, so I suppose someone more suited to the song should sing it, then."
I grin at her poorly-veiled challenge, obviously made in jest. But as I come to instinctively dismiss it and move on, I find I'm actually curious about what it would be like; she always looks so carefree when she's singing. Sensing my hesitation, Kaitlyn stares at me, eyes wide in cautious surprise. I glance away, self-conscious, as I consider whether I'm really doing this. Taking a deep breath and swallowing my nervousness, I reach over to turn up the volume even further, to the point where it's hard to hear anything else over it. Smirking at her delighted expression, I encourage myself internally during the bridge, then dive right in with the next chorus, keeping eye contact with her.
"I can be a liar, I can be a cheat! I can be neurotic, I can be a freak! I can be colder than a rolling stone! You know I hate it when I'm left alone! Even at my best, yeah, I can be the worst. I can be a headcase; spin you in reverse! I can be everything in between, but you always find the best part, the best part of me!"
Luckily, you can't really hear me. Unluckily, I can't hear her exuberant laugh. Even though I can tell she's dying to join in, she just lets me sing the whole chorus, then joins in the next verse. Soon, we're belting out the rest of the song with abandon, though Kaitlyn has enough wherewithal to raise a pointed eyebrow as we sing a line about being "my own worst enemy". I simply glare at her lightly before continuing to sing.
As the song ends, we sort of collapse into each other's arms, breathless laughter making us lean on each other for support. Kaitlyn fumbles quickly with the speakers, dropping the volume again before the next song can start. But a polite but firm knock comes through the kitchen wall just as she does so, and I tense up, a guilty smile already stretching across my lips. I step out into the backyard, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly as I grin at the lovely old lady in her own backyard next door.
"Sorry, Mrs Delaney."
She smiles ruefully at me. "I'm very glad you're having so much fun, dear. But would you maybe have that sort of fun earlier in the evening?"
Glancing at my watch, I blink in surprise to find it's nearly half past nine. "Oh, yikes. I didn't realise the time. Sorry, we'll keep the noise down."
"That's alright, dear," she reassures me. "You and your mom are allowed to have fun moments like that."
"Oh, it's actually my friend," I explain automatically. "Mom's out at the moment."
Obviously hearing this explanation, Kaitlyn shyly steps out into the evening, waving sheepishly at my neighbour.
"Sorry for the disturbance, ma'am."
Mrs Delaney's eyes widen and eyebrows shoot up, a delightedly surprised expression on her face. She blinks at us once before smiling brightly.
"Oh, don't worry about it, dear!" she almost cheers at Kaitlyn. "I get so little bother from Warren and his mother, so it's really not a problem. I don't believe we've met before; I'm Heidi Delaney."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Kaitlyn beams at her. "I'm Kaitlyn Rivers. Warren and I know each other from school."
"How lovely!" Mrs Delaney grins cheerfully. "Well, I'll let you kids enjoy the rest of your evening, though I'd very much appreciate if the noise could be kept down just a little bit. It was a pleasure to meet you, Kaitlyn!"
And she hurries back inside with a weird smile at us. I shrug at Kait but take us both back inside before taking a seat heavily on the sofa. She sits just as contently next to me, leaning her side against me ever so slightly. The contact brings a smile to my face, and I stare at the top of her head affectionately, my heart indecisive about whether it wants to somersault or vibrate excitedly or settle like Qīng at the bottom of my bed after a long day. It sinks as I remember the time, though, and I heave out a sigh.
"I should take you home."
I swear she presses slightly more against me, but otherwise doesn't respond. A few seconds pass with neither of us speaking or giving any indication of moving, and as I tilt my head to look at her face from the side, she's frowning, obviously distressed.
"What is it?" I ask quietly.
She's still silent for a while, but I know better than to rush the building energy I feel within her; when she's gathering the resources she needs to actually vocalise a desire she has, as opposed to just swallowing it and suffering through whatever it is she's uncomfortable with. Eventually, she takes a breath.
"I don't want to go," she admits. Ecstasy at her words and sentiment, and pride at her assertiveness, burst through me. The sentence holds none of the petulance you might expect from such a sentence being said by a teenager; this is a genuine, almost desperate need of hers.
She gives me a brief half smile before glancing away again. "I mean, not that I want to leave every other time, but…right now, I really don't want to go."
She leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees, sighing deeply. I can tell she's already forcing herself to go through her usual self-defence preparations, pushing down her discomfort and unhappiness, gearing herself up to head back to the battlefield that supposedly fosters her.
"You could stay."
Once again, the words are out of my mouth with no input from my brain at all. No regret follows as my brain catches up, however; the idea that I could save her some pain through such a simple offer is joyous. Plus, the possibility of having her sleep so close to me – in my house, using my furniture and my blankets – is exhilarating. Still, when she looks up sharply at me with wide, cautiously hopeful eyes, I glance away as heat fills my cheeks.
"Are you serious?" she asks in a whisper.
I hope the shrug I give it at least somewhat casual. "We don't have a lot to offer. But as long as you're okay with sleeping on the sofa…" I meet her eyes again, "…you're welcome to stay."
She swallows. "But, your mom…."
"Will probably say the same thing," I finish.
"I really don't want to overstay my welcome –"
"You're not."
Shit, dude, at least try to hide your desperation.
She looks out the front window, almost certainly in the direction of Daisy Bank. I instinctively place my hand protectively over hers.
"Are you worried about the backlash you'll get for staying here?" I ask, wishing I could protect her from whatever it is she's dreading.
She flicks her gaze back to me, almost surprised, before smiling a little uncertainly at me. "I was kind of, yeah. But I started thinking about my standard relationship and routine with people at Daisy Bank; when I've protested against their treatment of me and fought back, they've doubled down on tormenting me, but even if I'm a good little mouse and don't do anything to draw attention to myself, they get bored of my unresponsiveness, so increase their abuse anyway. No matter what I do, both now and in general, I'll lose."
The casual way in which she talks about her abuse, like it's just a basic fact of life, pisses me off. But I know she can feel anger about her shitty situation; she's just still getting used to feeling it, still learning that it's okay to feel angry about it. So I clench my fist out of her sight, and hold my tongue.
"So," she continues, "if I'm going to suffer whatever I do, and there won't really be much difference in the level of suffering, why should I choose the option that I don't want? So…yeah. You know what, f**k it." I blink then grin at her as she grins defiantly at me. "Yes. Please can I stay over tonight?"
"Of course," I nod happily.
She giggles breathlessly. "Holy shit, is this what it feels like to rebel?"
I burst out laughing. "Oh my God, is this your version of rebelling? That's almost painful."
The front door opens, and we both look towards the door. Qīng glances up, tail wagging, but doesn't move from his spot at Kaitlyn's feet. Mom juggles her handbag and a few thick folders as she comes through the door, looking slightly distracted.
"Hi, honey," she calls out.
"Hey, Mom," I answer with a smile, fully embracing the feeling of relief and reassurance at her return.
She glances up to smile at me, then double-takes as she spots Kaitlyn.
"Oh! You're still here, Kaitlyn!" She then shakes her head, frowning. "Sorry, that makes it sound like I'm not happy to see you."
"No, no," Kaitlyn laughs. "I understand."
"Kait can stay over tonight, right?" I ask.
Mom blinks, her eyes flicking uncertainly between the two of us. "You…want to stay?"
Kait's self-consciousness starts to get the better of her again, and she shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, eyes averted. "I mean, as long as it's okay. If you'd rather I didn't, I can head home –"
"No, no!" Mom hurries to reassure her, waving her hands emphatically. "Sorry. Of course, you're very welcome to stay. It's just…no one has asked to stay before, and…well, we don't have a lot to offer. Are you sure you'll be alright sleeping on the sofa?"
Kait snorts ruefully. "You've not slept on my bed at Daisy Bank. Your sofa will probably be an upgrade."
Mom's face scrunches briefly in sympathy before blossoming into a warm smile. "Alright, then. Shall we get you set up down here? It's quite late."
I beam at Mom gratefully, then leap off the sofa. "I should have a spare phone charger for you to use, too," I say, already halfway to the stairs.
"Oh, are you sure? Thanks so much!" Kaitlyn calls after me.
After I've given a spare charger and extension cable to Kaitlyn downstairs, Mom and I start to gather sheets and blankets on the upstairs landing. She glances up at me.
"Did you two have a fight?" she asks quietly.
I almost drop the pillowcase I just picked out. Once I fumble to catch it, I stare at Mom sharply, like a deer in headlights. She smiles sagely as I swallow.
"Fights between two people who are normally very close can leave an awkward truce as the dust is still settling. I figured that's the sort of atmosphere I felt in the car," she explains, and I purse my lips in irritation that I couldn't hide it well enough from her.
"But then after," she continues, "two things can happen. Either the wounds that were dealt don't ever heal, and the relationship is forever shattered; or you each tend to the wounds, both your own and each other's, and the bond comes back strengthened. Fortified. Like how only the most resilient pieces of coal form diamonds."
She hands me her stack of sheets. "I don't know what went on at school, or what was said while I was gone just now, but I can already tell you two belong in the second category."
I smile at her, more touched and relieved by her observation and approval than I expected. "Thanks, Mom. I think so, too."
She beams, kisses my forehead, then goes into her bedroom briefly before following me downstairs. We all help to set up the sheets, pillow and blankets, though Qīng tries his best to get in the way. Once some sort of makeshift bed is constructed, Mom turns to Kaitlyn, handing over a pile of burgundy cloth.
"You're not far off my size, so you can wear some of my pyjamas tonight."
"Thanks, Michelle," Kaitlyn smiles. "In the morning, is it alright if I wash my hair?" She drags a hand through her hair with a grimace, though she looks completely fine to me. "I've been meaning to do it for the past few days but never got around to it."
"Sure, that's fine, honey," Mom nods. "I'll get a towel ready for you tomorrow morning. Plus, it'll save me and Warren from tiptoeing around you in the morning; I get up pretty early to prepare for work and the evenings, and Warren goes running with Qīng in the mornings."
Kait laughs once before staring at me with respect in her eyes. "That shouldn't surprise me, but it kind of does."
I shrug, self-conscious. "It improves my cardio. And I like the peace of the early morning."
She chuckles, then makes her way to the stairs. "I'll go and change in the bathroom."
Heading up to my room, I also change into my pyjamas; a pair of loose black trousers and a red vest top. As I hear the bathroom door open again, I head out to go and brush my teeth, but freeze just outside my doorway. Kaitlyn stands not far from the bathroom door, obviously also taken aback by my sudden appearance. My eyes automatically take in every detail of her as she stands self-consciously in a short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, both of which are just slightly too big for her.
Holy shit, she looks hot in red.
"S-sorry!" she blurts out, not looking at me, face blazing red. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting!"
Liquid fire blazes through my veins.
She's talking about keeping you waiting for the bathroom, Peace. Don't you dare even imagine her meaning something else before you embarrass yourself.
"No, you didn't!" I answer her quickly. "I just spaced out for a moment."
We just stand there, and I desperately try and stop stealing glances at her, but it's really not helped by the fact that I see her stealing glances right back at me.
"Oh, by the way, Kaitlyn –"
Mom opens her door, tipping a bucket of ice over us, and we both jolt like she shocked us. If she notices, she doesn't comment.
"If you want to brush your teeth," she continues, "you can use my brush, if you don't feel too icky about it."
Kaitlyn grins and shrugs. "There have probably been way worse things than someone else's spit put secretly on my toothbrush at Daisy Bank, so I'm sure it'll be fine."
Mom grins back, then closes her door again. Awkward again, Kaitlyn gestures past her to the bathroom.
"Uh, you go first," she mutters, before slipping past me – summoning goosebumps on my arm – and down the stairs.
Hurrying into the bathroom, I lean against the closed door, breathing deeply to try and calm myself down. Reducing to simmer is the best I can do, so I push myself to the sink to clean my teeth. As I leave the bathroom, I call downstairs to let Kaitlyn know it's her turn, but I retreat into my room before she comes upstairs, as a defensive measure. I force myself to write it off as a wishful hallucination that I hear her pause outside my door briefly. I disregard my bed for the moment though, aimlessly wandering my room, checking and rechecking my bag for tomorrow, even after she leaves the bathroom and heads downstairs again; I can't just go to sleep and not check on her. I have to make sure that she's comfortable, that she has everything she needs. So I leave my room, grabbing a glass from my bedside table so I can pretend to just be getting some water and hope she doesn't question why I didn't just get water from upstairs.
We smile at each other only slightly shyly as she gets under her blankets, sighing happily as she snuggles down. I raise my eyebrow at Qīng as he settles down on the floor next to her.
"He usually comes up to bed with me," I say, "but somehow I don't think he's moving from your side tonight."
Kaitlyn giggles before tenderly stroking his head.
"You have everything you need? You comfortable? Pretty sure we have another pillow somewhere if you need it, and we definitely have more blankets."
She side-eyes me, smirking. "Didn't know you could be such a mother hen."
A wave of heat floods up my face, and I look away.
Only for you.
Before I have time to reel from that automatic internal response, Kaitlyn nods to me.
"Yes, I'm fine. This is wonderful, and really kind of you both."
As she says this and smiles at me, however, her eyes start to fill with tears. My eyebrows pull together in sympathy as she swipes at her eyes and cheeks.
"You okay?" I murmur.
She nods even as she sniffs, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table near her to blow her nose. "I'm sorry," she chuckles thickly. "It's just…. This is the first time in my memory that I've fallen asleep somewhere I feel completely safe."
Shit, I want to hold her. I want to take her in my arms and shield her from everything. Instead, I do the best I can, and bend down and take her hand in mine.
"You are safe," I promise.
"I know," she laughs. "It's amazing."
I huff out a single laugh, losing myself in her eyes for a little longer before I stand up again, pausing for a few seconds.
"Sleep well, Kaitlyn."
She beams at me. "You too, Warren."
Smiling at her one last time, I head back upstairs, call out "goodnight" to Mom, and climb into bed. I'm still too keyed up to go to sleep though, so after a few minutes of tossing and turning, I grab my music player and put my headphones in. The song that comes on first is one of my favourites at the moment, and it talks about someone waiting for a hero to save them. I focus on the words in a way I've not before:
She's talking to angels,
Counting the stars,
Making a wish on a passing car.
She's dancing with strangers,
Falling apart,
Waiting for superman to pick her up,
In his arms
That's Kaitlyn. I never realised before but that's her. She's waiting on someone to pull her out of the awful situation she's in. And I suddenly realise that, as long as she will have let me, I want to be that for her more than I've wanted anything in the world.
And there you have it! I really liked writing this chapter, and I hope it tugged at your heartstrings in all the appropriate places. Please consider leaving a review as creators love to know their hard work is appreciated!
