Chapter Thirty-Six Colin
Chapter Thirty-Six
Colin
I’m fuming as I make my way down the stairs, following the sound of the music and laughter. It seems to be coming from the parlor, but before I reach the room, I drop onto the stairs of the house and put my head in my hands.
What am I doing? I can’t go to that party. Not like this. Not without Declan.
But this need to be so defiant burns inside of me. I would rather make him angry just to get a rise out of him than be complacent and get nothing. I need to take a stand in order to have what I want—which is him, all or nothing.
So I stand from the stairs and march toward the sound of the music. I first notice that the lights are low and the music is loud, almost as if the people in the room are trying to hide what is happening there.
But as I turn the corner into the parlor, I realize that it’s just a normal party. People are congregated in pairs and small groups. Everyone seems to be having a good time, drinking and dancing.
“Well, hello there,” a beautiful woman says as she nods at me. I slowly meander my way into the room, not making eye contact with anyone but feeling them all stare at me like I’m fresh meat. I go straight for the bar, in desperate need of a drink.
There’s no bartender, so I help myself to a glass of wine, guzzling it down far too fast. And then filling it again.
It’s then that I look at the party again and start to notice something different—the way people are gathered, the way they are moving. This isn’t a regular party at all. It’s a sex party.
My eyes catch on a man, sitting on a lounge, watching the woman across from him as she writhes on another man’s lap. But it’s not her that interests me, it’s him.
The way he looks at her. Like he owns her. Like he treasures her.
This whole time I’ve been trying to get Declan to fight for me, but I’ve made things so easy for him. I’ve handed my heart and my body to him on a platter. On his terms. For his pleasure.
Maybe this is what we need.
Maybe this is what I need.
“You must be Colin,” a drunk voice says in a thick Scottish accent. I look up to find Killian watching me as he sways in his spot. I recognize him from photos, but I’ve yet to officially meet him until this moment.
“Umm…” I clear my throat. “Yes, I am. And you’re Killian.”
“Aye,” he says before scanning the room with unfocused eyes. “Where’s my brother?”
“Upstairs,” I reply. “He didn’t want to come.”
“He never does.” Killian takes a long drink from his glass, and I swallow down my discomfort. This doesn’t feel right, talking about Declan with his brother. Being here without him. Doing something I know he doesn’t want me to do.
“He used to love parties,” I say, more to myself than to him.
“I know,” Killian replies. “And you’re the reason he’s changed so much.”
My eyes shoot wide. “Me?”
“Aye. You made him grow up. You made him boring like you.”
Glaring at him through narrowed eyes, I mutter, “Declan warned me that you could be cruel.”
He only laughs. “Good. I’m glad he warned you, but I wasn’t being cruel.
I was being honest. Before you came along,” he says, jabbing me hard in the chest with his finger, “he had nothing. He was fun and wild. Then, he started carrying himself differently. Trying to be better than he was. Drinking less. Bettering himself.”
“Those are good things and not at all boring,” I argue.
“I didn’t say they weren’t good,” he says, his voice slurred. “But I’ll sure as fuck never fall in love. Sounds miserable.”
“He doesn’t love me,” I mumble to myself.
“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” he bellows. “He loves you more than anyone. For fuck’s sake, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.”
“Huh?” I ask, looking at him quizzically.
Killian nods his head toward the door I just walked through, and Declan stands there watching me with an angry expression. For a moment, I feel intense relief. Any room he’s in feels instantly more comfortable to me, but I won’t let myself fall back into these old patterns. Not tonight.
Instead of going to Declan, I turn back to Killian. “Pour me another, please.”
“You best get back. He looks quite cross.”
“I don’t care,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “If he wants me, he can come and get me.”
With eyebrows raised, Killian pours wine into my glass, and I quickly drink it, although it burns.
It only takes Declan a moment before he stomps toward me, latching his fingers around my arm. “Let’s go, Shakespeare.”
I pull my arm from his grip. “No. I’m having fun, and you don’t own me.”
“I’m serious, Colin.”
Spinning toward him, I press my face toward his. “So am I. Upstairs, I asked you to give me something, Declan. Anything. And you couldn’t. Maybe someone down here can. In fact, maybe making you watch me with someone else will finally give you the pressure you need to fight for me.”
I watch his molars clench. “What did I do to you?” he asks. “To make you want to break my heart?”
My jaw drops. “Your heart? How could I break your heart, Declan? We’re just friends, remember? You can’t have a relationship, remember? So please tell me, how could I break your heart? Why does it even matter what I do?”
I’m shouting, and suddenly, I realize there are tears in my eyes.
And everyone in the room is staring at me.
Humiliation burns through my veins, so I quickly bolt past Declan and out of the parlor.
I don’t stop when I reach the hall, and I can’t bear the thought of going back up to that studio.
So I run straight through the front door and into the pouring rain.
“Colin!” Declan shouts. “Get back in here!”
Spinning on him, I want to scream. Warm tears streak down my face with the sheets of rain. “No, Declan! I can’t go back into that house. I can’t go back into that room. I can’t…” My voice trails.
He follows me into the rain. “So let’s get out of here. We’ll go somewhere else.”
“For how long? A week? Until next year, when you’ll let me love you for a brief moment? Declan, I meant what I said. I can’t keep doing this.”
“I already told you,” he says before wiping the wet hair from his face. “I can’t do relationships, Colin.”
“Why?” I plead. My chest aches so painfully it feels like I could die from it. “All I’m asking you to do is love me,” I cry.
He takes a few more angry steps toward me. “Don’t you understand?” he shouts. “It’s because I love you that I can’t keep you. I don’t want you to live in this hell with me. You see what a bloody mess I am. I refuse to drag you under. I refuse to dull your shine.”
“But that’s what love is, Declan! It’s showing someone the worst parts of ourselves and trusting that they’ll love us anyway. And if I haven’t proven to you over the past eight years that I love every part of you, even the dark, messy, sad, angry parts, then what the fuck have we been doing?”
“It’s not that bloody easy,” he replies sadly, and I want to scream at how infuriating he is.
When I don’t respond for a moment, letting the rain drench me from head to toe, he takes another step closer. And for the first time ever, I take a step away.
He notices.
With alarm in his voice, he begs, “Please come back inside, Colin.”
But I don’t move.
“Colin. Come back inside.”
Even his command doesn’t get a response from me.
“Colin, I’m begging you. Please.”
The desperation in his voice is hard to hear. It’s like I’m dying right in front of him, and he doesn’t know what to do. Although I’ve told him. I’ve expressed it already. But I’m asking for more than he can give. And if giving me the bare minimum is too much to ask, then I know what I need to do.
I feel a sense of pride for what I’m about to say, but I’m a coward because I can’t look him in the eye when I do it. “I love you, Declan, more than anything, but you’re bad for me. Loving you…is bad for me.”
I don’t need to lift my gaze to his face to know that his eyes are bloodshot and sad. I don’t need to look to know his jaw is clenched shut, and his face is expressionless and dead.
My heart is rotting in my chest. Decaying into a painful husk. And yet, I still manage to get the words out.
“I don’t think we should do this anymore. I think…I need to just be free from you.”
He doesn’t speak, not at first, but I can practically feel the pain radiate. What I’m saying feels impossible and drastic, but it needs to be said.
“Then, you should go,” he mumbles sadly, loud enough for me to hear through the rain.
“Because I never want to hurt you. And if loving me…” Emotion steals the words from his lips, and he stops speaking.
The silence that follows feels like knives stabbing my chest. This all hurts too much.
Knowing that I could take it all back and go back up to his room again only makes it throb worse, because I could do that. But I shouldn’t. And I can’t.
“I’ll call a car in the morning,” I mutter with my eyes down.
Then, I walk past him and into the house.
I don’t know if he follows, and I can’t bring myself to check.
I find an empty guestroom to sleep in, although I don’t get a moment’s rest all night.
It is by far the worst, most agonizing night of my life.
It feels like dying. Like watching every good memory fade into oblivion.
The next morning, a black car pulls up to the front of the house, and Declan is nowhere to be seen. My eyes are puffy, and my head is pounding when I climb inside, and just the slamming of the door has me crying again.
The driver doesn’t say a word as I quietly sob in the back seat. And it’s not just that I miss Declan already, which I do, or that I regret what happened between us last night, which I also do.
It’s that he forced my hand. He’s the one who taught me to stand up for myself and make the choices that need to be made while also denying me the love and attention I deserve. He was the one who made me believe I deserved it in the first place.
I’m not just grieving the loss of Declan, but the loss of what we had.
I’m mourning for what could have been and for the greatness that we were.
Because even if it all fell apart, I know in my heart that what Declan and I had was the real thing—a love bigger than the both of us combined.
If he was the moon, then I was the tide.
Deep down, I know I will always be the tide.
But just because it ended doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.