Chapter Thirty-Two
Zander
My mouth waters and trembles as the sickness builds from the dizzying thoughts whirling around my head.
I don’t know how I made it out of the bathroom without falling over the memories flooding and rushing in.
One after another, they came thick and fast– the door fully open and splintering at the hinges.
I pushed him.
I saved her.
I killed him.
Steadying myself against the wall, I try to take a deep breath, only for it to get stuck halfway.
I try again, sucking air desperately through my nose, but it’s not enough, there isn’t enough.
Panic seeps through the gaps and wraps itself around my brain like a parasitic tar.
I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I can’t do this.
Why would he lie to me? I thought we knew everything about each other. Maybe we do, I just don’t know enough about myself, apparently. I didn’t know my past, I didn’t know my capabilities, and I didn’t know I would be the one who needed protection all along. Protection from him.
I manage to stagger outside, only to realise I have nowhere to go.
For the first time in my life, I’m completely alone, and it fucking hurts.
The darkness doesn’t feel so welcoming anymore; it’s empty and cold.
I spent years stuck in silence; the shadows were my only company, so I held on to them.
Then Jules came along, and he sat in that darkness with me.
He didn’t try to pull me out; he just gradually grew brighter over the years until he was the one I held on to instead.
He became the tether that kept me anchored to something that felt real for a while: family, friendship, love.
But now I’m a nomad, floating in the space between temporary and forever; never landing, forever adrift.
The grass underfoot is wet, but it feels refreshing against the burning desire to scream and shout into the night.
The inexpressible feelings need an outlet, but there are no words to describe the abandonment surrounding me.
I tilt my head to the sky as rain starts to trickle down– yet another cruel joke.
“Zander!” The light shower quickly turns into a heavy downpour, battering against the tin roof of the shed.
I can hear Jules shouting for me, but I don’t want to acknowledge him.
I don’t understand how I’m feeling right now, and that’s the scariest part of all.
I had finally found clarity in our new dynamic, but now I feel as uncertain as I did the night I begged him to make it make sense.
“Zan, please. Come inside before you get ill.” I don’t miss the worry in his plea as his voice becomes clearer.
“Leave me alone, Jules,” I bite.
“No.”
Rainwater streams down my face, soaking through my clothes. I should feel cleansed, absolved even, but instead, the cowardice and guilt cling to me as tightly as my saturated shirt.
“Go. Away. Jules.”
“Never,” it’s no more than a shaky whisper beside my ear, a reminder that he now stands where we promised each other we always would, side by side.
I spin to face him quickly, leaving no room for rationale to override my bitterness. For the first time ever, Jules is the target of my rage, and I don’t feel a single ounce of guilt as I shove his chest, forcing him back.
“Who even am I?!” It comes out as a despondent cry. He stumbles backward over the shock. I advance on him again, pushing with the tips of my fingers.
“You said you know exactly who I am, so tell me, Jules, who?!” I ask through his silence. The volume is mocking, who knew nothingness could be so terribly loud?
He rights himself once more. His frame stiffening, and his fight boiling at the surface.
It instantly transports me back to the night he first kissed me, an amalgamation of white-hot anger and emotion.
I see the tightening of his fists by his side as he takes a confident step forward, bravery and fury driving his actions.
“You’re Zander, the ‘bestest Pokémon master ever’…” The painful familiarity reaches my ears. His feet carry him another step closer.
“You’re my running partner with odd shoes.” Step.
“You’re my best friend, my family…” We’re both soaking wet and vibrating against each other with passionate rage.
“You’re my protector…” His hands land on either side of my face with a steady grip.
“You’re loved…” Our faces are so close, but shame rids me of the ability to look into his eyes.
“You’re everything.”
His words rupture the torment inside, splitting it wide open until all I feel is a paralysing sadness.
“I’m lost, Jules.”
“And I’m your home, Zan.” We stay locked into each other as the rain pelts down, our breath meeting in the short space between us.
“I’ve already felt enough pain for one lifetime from one home, I can’t do it again… I can’t.” We’re shouting above the rain, even though we’re face to face, desperate to be heard.
“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you–”
“But you did, Jules. You’ve hurt me worse than he ever did.” Rainwater drips from his lips and nose, but the moisture rolling down his cheeks isn’t lost amid the rain; it’s unmistakable proof of his regret. We stand nose to nose, projecting our pain, only for it to reflect back at us.
“I didn’t– I thought I was helping you. Please, Zan.
If you believe anything, believe that.” His eyes are closed, and our foreheads are pressed together hard.
With every plea, he pushes himself further into me, urging me to listen, to believe him.
The most twisted part of this whole thing is that I already do.
Jules doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body.
I know his intentions were pure, but it doesn’t erase the fact that he lied to me.
The reason I can't look at him right now is due to the fear that’s taken residence.
The terrifying realisation that the person I see staring back might not be the same person I've seen most of my life.
It would be the friendship equivalent of verifying a death– final and absolute.
It would certainly bring a whole new level of grief that neither of us could handle, nor want to.
The scariest part of it all, however, is the fact I would do it all again.
I would push him down the stairs, I would orphan myself time and time again if it meant Jules got to keep his Mom for a little while longer.
If it gave me the opportunity to lead a normal life—however short—I wouldn't hesitate.
For Jules, I would do anything, be anything, so long as he was by my side.
“I do, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“But I didn’t want to hurt you any more,” he whispers against my lips.
“I’m so tired, Jules.”
“Then let me look after you. Let me protect you, the right way this time.” His lips press softly against mine, light and full of apprehension.
Different in a way that feels like we’re completely new to each other, yet familiar in the sense I recognise where my heart truly belongs– broken or not.
Time waits once again, temporarily paused, holding its breath for my answer to his kiss.
Submission to the peace Jules has always offered comes easily as our mouths begin to move together in slow, affirming strokes.
Each press of our lips is a battle between my pain and his remorse.
Every brush of our tongues is a fight for control and surrender.
But every finger that wraps around another is a reunion of two souls forever bound.
“I’m… Sorry…” Jules soothes between each pause for breath.
“I know,” I pull his face back to mine so we’re eye to eye, heart to heart, as we both try to steady our shaky breath.
“Do you forgive me?”
“Not right now, but I will. Ask me in ten years.” He visibly relaxes, his body slumping against mine as we turn to the house, making our first steps toward the start of forever.