Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Nine Years Ago
“Dude, shut the fuck up.” Crescent nudged me in the shoulder, making me sway and my backpack shuffle. I nudged him back, shaking my head. “Not a chance in hell, Cres. We have no idea what the One Piece could be. It could be something totally stupid.”
“No, Oda wouldn’t do that to us. He’s been writing this manga for so long, and they’ve gone through so much—there’s no way. It’ll be something epic. I just know it.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping back into rhythm with him. “Alright, alright. I have to stop by my locker real quick, and then we can go.”
Our last class of the day was art, which we took together. It was my favorite subject, something I hoped to do even after graduation. Crescent? He just needed a credit, and it was a class we’d be sharing.
The school’s art show was only a week away, and my painting still had a lot left to do.
Soft, wispy music floated in the background, coming from speakers Mrs. Summers had set up in each corner of the room.
She didn’t make the effort to get up from her desk, greeting us and telling us we knew what to work on.
Crescent helped me pull paper across the table we were occupying, fitting it just right so paint wouldn’t splatter everywhere from my canvas. We didn’t have any fancy easels, so I laid the canvas I’d retrieved from the cabinet on top before raiding Mrs. Summer’s acrylic paint supply.
We sat side by side, Crescent working on a lopsided, lumpy piece of clay he was determined to turn into a moon. A crescent moon, just like his name. He didn’t have an artistic bone in his body, and the idea was more of a joke than anything, but he was committed.
Every basic color I could find adorned the paint palette, a circle of happiness waiting to be mixed.
I dipped my fine detail brush into the yellow, hesitating and holding my arm above the canvas for a moment.
Only an hour to piece everything together.
So little time, so much to do—an overwhelming swarm of images and ideas begging to be released from my mind.
Lately, my paintings have taken a darker turn.
Black and dark blue portraits of a life being ripped away, subtle angelic glows in the background dimming until gone.
My head was so chaotic and cloudy, and I had nowhere else to pour that energy into.
I just needed it gone. Out of my system, and into something productive.
But I refused to let this painting be dark.
Just because my head and life were a mess didn’t mean I wanted to showcase it for everyone else to see.
Instead, I’d chosen to paint Mrs. Miller’s favorite bird—a blue jay, with its gorgeous, sleek blue and white body with black accents striping through its feathers.
The bird in my painting was zoomed in, the sole focus of the canvas. It perched on a branch, the background faded with blurry, blooming flowers. I swiped some yellow into the center of the plastic palette and mixed brown with it, creating the perfect color to blend into the branch I’d painted.
Crescent leaned over, peering beside my shoulder. “Mom’s gonna love that, dude.”
I smiled, not looking at him as I brushed across and dotted the branch. “You think so?”
“Oh, yeah. She’s gonna flip out and demand it be hung up in the living room. I can see it now.” He sighed dreamily, leaning back in his chair. “She’ll probably cry, and then Dad will comfort her, and then you’ll get all uncomfortable and twitchy.”
“I do not get twitchy.”
“You so do.”
Rolling my eyes, I shrugged him away. “Work on your moon, Cres.”
He snorted, just before picking up the vaguely moon-shaped clay.
I watched him from the side, cringing at the way he smoothed the sides in the wrong direction.
Thick fingerprints cratered the tip of it, smooshing the clay down.
I heard him growl under his breath, and I almost took it from him to help, but decided to let him suffer a bit longer. He’d figure it out eventually.
Just as I was about to put down the black accents on the blue jay’s wing, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. I groaned, tipping my head back. “Fuck me, dude. I just want to get this done.”
Crescent looked at me, then the painting. “Is it not already?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, dumbass.”
“Take it home, then,” he shrugged. “I’ll help you hide it from Mom.”
Shaking my head, I moved to the sink to clean out the paint palette I’d used. I had everything I needed at the Millers’ house, so it was a viable option, but I had plans tonight. “I have to go see Jude. We’re catching up on Black Mirror.”
Crescent helped me clean off my brushes, ignoring the rush of our classmates running out of the room. “Oh.” He turned to me, waggling his eyebrows. “Gonna Netflix and chill, huh?”
Unease trickled into my gut, forming a black sludge as heavy as concrete. It hardened, filling me up from the inside out. It was harder to breathe than before, but I didn’t want him to notice, so I plastered on a smirk and threw a roll of paper towels at him. “You jealous, Cres?”
The roll of paper towels hit him in the shoulder, bouncing off and to the floor.
“Only thing I’m jealous of is the fact that you guys get to watch TV.
I tried to get Star to beg Mom and Dad for one the other day, and they claimed it was still too harmful for our developing brains. I mean, I’m almost eighteen!”
I pulled my backpack onto my shoulders and secured the canvas with a white trash bag to keep it from getting damaged as much as possible. “I don’t know why you try, man. I wonder if Moon would let us crash one weekend and use his TV.”
“Good idea. I’ll bother him about it later. So, are you bringing it?” He pointed to the bag in my hand.
“Yeah, I might as well. I’ll have him swing me by so I can drop it off first.” We walked down the hallway, almost fully abandoned at this point. Arriving at the main entrance, I spotted Jude standing at the far wall.
His back was against it, his foot propped up behind him. A black hood covered his head, but the rest of his jacket was unzipped. The slight stubble on his jawline had me blushing, but the look in his eyes when he spotted me had my blood curdling. He looked angry.
I’d gotten used to that look by now.
Crescent followed me almost all the way to Jude before stopping. “I’ll see ya at home. We can hide the painting in my room.”
“Sounds good.”
“Love you, bye!” he called out, turning on his heel for the front doors.
I called back to him, cringing even as I said it. “Love you, bye!” We always said that. It was just our thing. You never knew when it’d be the last time you saw somebody, and I wanted to make sure my last words were always “love you.”
When I turned back around, Jude was staring at me. A hard, pinning stare that made my lungs curl up and twist in on themselves. “Took you long enough,” he seethed, black smoke swirling from his mouth. It was invisible to anyone but me.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I walked up to him, putting on the sweet charm I knew he loved. “I had to put everything away. I didn’t mean to make you wait.”
Jude hummed a non-answer, walking toward the doors. I followed behind him as I was expected to do, running a little at first so I could catch up to him. “Could we stop by the Millers’ first? I need to drop this off so I can work on it later.”
“No.”
He walked faster, not even stopping as cars raced through the parking lot. I stumbled after him, almost tripping. “But, I don’t want it to take up too much space in your house. I’d rather it be dry and ready for me when I get there tonight.”
Silence.
I fought to keep up with him, huffing and puffing my way through the cars and trucks in the lot. When we got to his car, I waited by the trunk. Instead of unlocking it for me, though, Jude got into the driver’s side and slammed his door.
The engine roared to life, startling me and making me jump. I sighed, rounding the car to the passenger side. “Where do you want this?”
“Back seat. Hurry up.”
Great. I’d really pissed him off. I never meant to, but we’d been together for over a year now, so it was bound to happen. I knew what I was supposed to do and not do, yet I kept doing it.
After putting the covered canvas in the back, I slipped into the passenger seat. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Jude put the car in reverse, backing out of our parking space and heading for the long line of students leaving the school. “You know that shit pisses me off, Elio.”
I wasn’t sure which part he was mad about, but I wasn’t about to ask. “I know.”
“You guys hang out too much.”
“He’s my best friend. We live together. I’m not sure how I could just…stop being around him so much.”
“You could always go back to your parents’ house.”
I laughed. He didn’t really mean that. Right?
The car lurched, and my body was pulled to the side.
I clutched the handle above me as Jude swerved down a road I wasn’t familiar with.
My head fell forward, my entire upper half lurching with the force as he braked abruptly.
Gasping, I looked around, noticing the trees and dirt around us. It looked like some weird side road.
“I’m fucking serious,” Jude growled from beside me, reaching over and grabbing the collar of my shirt. “He wants you. You see that, right?”
I tried to back away, but my seat and the seatbelt across my chest held me in place. “Crescent? No, no, you’re wrong.”
The deep blue of his eyes darkened, turning almost black. It scared me. “You can’t see it, but I sure as hell can. You and the Millers, living it up like some sweet fucking family, and all their son wants is in your pants. It’s bullshit!”
His grip on my collar got tighter, pulling me in closer to his face. “Please, baby. There’s nothing there. You gotta know that.”
Fingers spread up, clasping around my neck and squeezing. “I love you so much, but you can’t see it. You can’t see all the things I’m trying to protect you from.”
“You’re hurting me,” I cried, a pathetic whimper in comparison to his loud, booming voice.
“You’re so sweet and innocent, Elio. You don’t get it. Crescent is going to get in your pants and break your heart, but you’re blind to it. Just like with your paintings.”
His fingers sank further into my skin, slowly starting to cut off my airway. “My paintings?”
Jude tilted his head, an almost solemn expression taking over his face. “Honey, do you really think you have any talent? Your paintings—they’re not good. They aren’t gonna get you anywhere.”
My eyes unfocused, forcing Jude into a blur as the little, tiny heart in my chest started to crack. One by one, piece by piece, it fell apart. He thought my paintings were bad?
“Move out. Stop talking to him.”
I shook my head, tears gathering in my eyes. “No, Jude. I can’t do that. His family is all I’ve got.”
A roar started in his throat. “I’m all you’ve got, you bastard! Who the fuck else cares like I do? No one, and you know that!” He released my neck, throwing me against the passenger door. “Fuck!”
I watched, my body shaking, as he got out of the car and tore open the back doors. I froze in my seat as he took my canvas, the painting I’d worked so hard on, and ripped the bag open.
He threw it on the ground.
I saw his leg raise, then fall.
He stomped, and stomped, and stomped, and I just knew it was ruined. Jude slammed his fist into the side of the car, screaming and cursing in the middle of nowhere.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he got back in the car. “Look what you made me do. I’m not that person, Elio. You know me. But fuck, you piss me off so bad.”
“I know.” My voice was weak and cracked.
“We’ll talk more at my house. Maybe the drive will cool me off.”
No, it wouldn’t. I knew what was coming. I knew that by tomorrow, I’d be covered in bruises.
But who else did I have?