32. Moth
Chapter thirty-two
Moth
I’m stuffing my face with cereal when I pick up on the sound of joyful laughter and shake my head.
At least everyone else is freaking happy.
I just don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.
For the first time in years, I have set sight on the only girl who has ever made me feel anything , yet I was cruel to her.
Treated her like she didn’t belong. I’m worse than Prince.
Well, almost .
I heard what he did to her in his office.
We all found out in the end.
Saint told Angel, and then Angel told the rest of us, and for someone so quiet, Angel really can be a big gossip.
That one-eyed freak can’t keep a secret for long.
Which is why he can never know how I feel about Snow.
None of them can, but I have seen the suspicion in all their eyes.
Now I keep all my sketches of her locked away in my safe. It was bad enough she found the one behind my couch cushion. I ought to be more careful.
I tend to draw my feelings, and my art often takes strange forms.
Snow is the only beautiful thing I have ever drawn, but my charcoal can never quite capture her essence.
Nothing can compare to the real thing.
Finally, the party arrives in the kitchen, and I pretend I can’t see them as I finish my cereal and orange juice.
At least I’m not drinking whiskey anymore.
Now that I know that Snow will be fine, I can stop.
The world may not be deprived of its one beauty just yet.
Well, not unless Prince gets his way. He was pissed when we all voted against him and condemned his treatment of Snow.
Hunter and Casper spill into the room with Snow, and I keep my gaze on my cornflakes as I remain seated at the kitchen island.
“Yo, Moth!”
Grinding my teeth, I concentrate on chewing as I eat my cereal.
“Timothée Diamante!”
I growl as my insufferable younger brother uses my full name. I guess this is what I get for deciding to eat outside of my wing for once.
Casper mutters beside him. He’s so quiet, I forget he is present sometimes. “Hunter, you know he hates that name.”
Hunter chuckles. “Nothing wrong with Timothée. A good, strong name…”
“Shut the fuck up, dope,” I snap.
Finally, I turn on my little brother, finding his smirking green eyes.
“Timothée?”
My heart jerks at the sound of that soft, melodious voice behind them, and now I really wish I hadn’t left my wing.
Hunter smiles down at her. “That’s right, Snow. Most Timothées go by Tim , but not this one… He has to be all dark and gloomy, and different …”
“But… moths aren’t gloomy. They’re cute.”
I almost smile at her remark.
I chose the name for its reference to the urban legend, Mothman, not for the insect, but she really is as innocent as I thought she would be.
Mothman appears just before disaster strikes, and I guess that’s me in a nutshell.
A walking disaster.
“But I never understood why he never went by Thée …” Hunter muses, and now the three of them contemplate my name choice silently.
That’s it. I’m done.
I get off the stool, swishing my bowl and spoon under the tap. Then I place it on the dish rack and saunter out the room.
“Hold on, Moth. Aren’t you going to compliment Snow’s new outfit?” Hunter asks.
New outfit?
That’s right. They went shopping.
I suppose it was about time she wore something other than Prince’s pajamas. I think they were the ones I got him two Christmases ago, but what do I care…
Now I regard Snow from the corner of my eye and… is that a leather jacket?
Finally, she has my full attention, and now my eyes rake her up and down from her head to her booted feet, and my heart flops in my chest.
She’s fucking phenomenal.
And I thought she was perfect before…
Now she’s a wonderful balance of sweet and badass, light and dark.
Even her makeup has been painted on black, and her lips remind me of liquorice as I resist the urge to sweep across and wrap my teeth around her plump mouth.
Snow blushes when I stare for too long, and then she becomes that demure princess again as she gazes down at her combat boots.
They look thick and clunky on her little feet, and the juxtaposition just makes my heart thump all the more.
And the black choker around her neck… the one with the dangly skull pendant…
I just want to slip my finger beneath the soft velvet and hear her choke as I steal a kiss from her lungs.
Fuck.
Hunter gives me that shit-eating smirk. He knows what she’s doing to me.
He may be a dope, but he sees through us all.
Still, I won’t take shit from a fucker who once thought that the Paris Hotel in Vegas was the official Eiffel Tower. I brush past them, exiting the room.
Enough of this.
Time to pour my feelings out onto an empty canvas.
“Where are you going?” Hunter asks, and I hear Casper telling him to leave me.
I love Casper. He always knows when I need a moment.
When I return to my wing, I grab my sketchbook and start to draw.
Except this time, I don’t draw her surrounded by flowers and singing to birds.
This time, I draw her in a leather jacket with metal studs, surrounded by skulls, bats, and ravens. I’m loving this new Snow.
Still. I can never have her.
Because I know my older brother.
Sooner or later, he will act on his impulsive desires and rid her from our lives.
So, I won’t be getting attached.
The only way I can ever have her is through my drawings.