Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Just listen. That first night we slept together, you cannot convince me you didn’t feel something inside of you shift.
You—the man who feels nothing—sobbing and clinging to me as if you were going to die without me.
The entire time, my body kept screaming at me.
Kept screaming that I finally found you, begging for you to remember me. ”
I jolt at his words, my own memory flooding back to me.
Do you remember me now?
“And in my dreams, Benjamin started calling me Aaron. It was a new development that started after we met. I have papers where I wrote my dreams down, ones you saw, that prove this. Don’t you see Elijah?
" Rowan asks me. "We’ve been here before. The two of us. I’m not sure what happened, and I’m not sure why, but this sadness I’ve carried my entire life was a roadmap, not a burden. ”
There are tears in his eyes now. He’s staring at me with such yearning—a man pleading.
“I’ve suffered for so long, intentionally alone, all so I could find my way back to you. And instead, you came to me. We are meant for each other; we have already loved each other for so long,” he concludes.
I turn away, shoving my hands into my hair in an attempt to ground myself.
It’s too much. It’s crazy.
But… I did feel a weird connection to him. Even now, I want him. And this ache and this sorrow I’ve felt and relished in since we’ve met is so unexplainable that it really could be anything…
Fuck, is he convincing me?
My body is shaking, and I feel that any second I’ll spiral back into another panic attack.
“This is crazy,” I say, and Rowan chuckles breathlessly.
“Isn’t it? It’s absolutely nuts, yet doesn’t it feel so right? When you look at me, do you feel safe? When I touch you, does it feel like coming home? When I’m gone, is it as if something vital has been taken from you?”
Slowly, I turn to face him. He’s still staring at me with those pleading eyes, but he’s smiling now. It’s small and gentle, but I can tell that he has hope. That he fully believes every word he’s speaking and in this bizarre past he thinks we shared.
“Yes,” I whisper, because all of those things are true. All of those things and more.
“What happened to you today? What did you see?” he demands, and I can feel the tears welling up again. Rowan is in front of me in a flash, hands sliding against my cheeks to hold me. “Tell me, baby.”
“I…”
Can I? Am I able to open that dream back up and decipher it? Just acknowledging that I had the damn dream makes me want to vomit; reliving it sounds like hell.
“I know it’s hard. I know it hurts. Share that pain with me, let me in.” His voice is so soothing; every syllable he sounds is a promise that quells the violence inside of me.
I want him so badly.
“I was falling,” I begin, and my voice is once again small and pained. “I was falling from a bridge to die, and I was happy.”
Rowan’s breathing stutters, and his eyes grow wide, as if this was the last thing he expected me to say. "Okay..."
“And then… and then someone who looked just like you jumped after me, and suddenly I was very sad. I didn’t want him to die, too.
So I did my best to angle my body—to make sure he landed on top of me.
To make sure he lived. And I kept thinking to myself how I wanted to tell him—in my head, I called him Aaron—I wanted to tell Aaron that I loved him. And then I died.”
Tears are falling from Rowan’s eyes, and his thumbs rub soft circles against my cheeks.
“Oh,” he whispers.
“I’m terrified of heights, so it’s weird that I was so calm in this dream, that I was so happy. When I came to, I got off the ride and threw up, and B—” I stop speaking. My eyes widen just as Rowan’s narrow.
“And what?”
“Nothing.” I try to push his hands away, but instead, he grips my biceps.
“What are you keeping from me, Eli?” he demands.
It’s kind of ironic, all things considered. The king of hiding is lecturing me. But the look in his eyes keeps me from commenting on it, and I swallow thickly as I look away from him.
“It was… it was Bennett who forced me onto that ride. The one that triggered that dream.”
“Bennett was… you were with him?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“As in you ran into him? Where? At the festival?” His questions are coming at me a mile a minute, and I shake my head softly.
“No. I went to the festival with him.” I’ve never been a liar, and I have no reason to hide. I did nothing wrong.
Yet, as I meet his eyes and see the pain and the sorrow there, I feel as if I have. I feel as if I have betrayed him and hurt him, and that makes me want to vomit once more.
“Oh,” he repeats. Rowan’s hands fall away, and once he is no longer touching me, I find that I miss it so much I want to cry.
“Rowan—”
“It’s fine. We weren’t—you didn’t owe me exclusivity. I just… oh, man.” He turns away from me, and I watch his back expand with every deep breath he takes. “So what? He comforted you and drove you home? Just left you like this?”
The anger in his voice is new, and it excites me as much as it terrifies me.
“No, no. I told him to leave me alone and I drove myself.”
“You drove yourself?!” He spins back around to face me, eyes wide and manic. “That was so unsafe, Elijah!”
“I know!” I groan, throwing my hands up in defense. “But I couldn’t stand to be around him anymore, and I don’t know anyone else—”
“You know me!”
Silence stretches out between us, and I feel the beginnings of more hot tears as they slide down my cheeks.
Finally, I whisper, “But I had just watched you die. Or maybe die. And I couldn’t… I didn’t… It hurt too badly. It still hurts so badly.”
I’m wrapped up in his arms a moment later. Rowan squeezes me, as if he’s pushing his own essence into my body with each passing second. I take in large inhales of his flowery scent.
“Whatever horrible thing happened to us before, this is now. Neither of us is dying. Okay?” he reassures me.
I find myself nodding, even as I’m still unsure if I believe in all of this fairytale bullshit. Everything in me is saying that this is too crazy to be true. But that logic is also battling with the understanding that nothing feels more right than being right here with Rowan.
“Wait,” Rowan says, pulling back just enough to see my expression. “Elijah, when is your birthday?"
“My birthday?” I ask in confusion. “Soon, actually. December 6th.” Rowan’s eyes close, and he takes a deep breath. “What?” I press again
“How old are you?”
I can see on his face that there is some sort of revelation happening here, one that I am not picking up on. I’m also uncertain as to why he’s bringing all of this up.
But Rowan looks as if he might keel over and die at any moment, all depending on my answer. Brows pinched, wide green eyes searching my own with a purpose.
“Twenty-six," I state. "What’s going on?”
Something that resembles a mixture of relief and elation settles over his features.
And then Rowan says, “I’m also twenty-six, and my birthday is December 6th. We were born in the same year on the same day.”