A strong breeze ruffled his hair as James stood outside and stared up at the sky. It was a clear day, the clouds spread thin like flattened cotton candy so that he could glimpse the perfect robins egg blue beneath. Though the sun was out and shining, James still felt himself shiver in the brisk fall air. His first day in the Midwest and already he was bitching to himself about the cold. And it was only October. He knew that the following months would only get colder and colder.
He turned his attention to his surroundings, taking in the tall trees with their vibrant, changing leaves and the lush grass beneath his feet that was slowly decaying to the color of dry straw. It would all be gone soon. His aunt's cottage was built firmly in the woods away from anyone and everyone who might think to judge the little ramshackle house with its hot pink shutters and in-your-face purple front door. It was small and it was falling apart and it was entirely unfamiliar.
It all was.
He took in a deep breath, attempting to regain some semblance of his sanity. He could do this. He could. It was just a few weeks, a short time to let everything settle, to give them all a chance to let recent events sink in. And then everything would go back to normal. It had to.
He couldn't live like this.
The door swung open and a head full of multicolored hair popped out, a beaming smile on his aunt's face as she called, "Are you ever gonna come inside or just stand there all day lookin' like a poorly dressed scarecrow?"
James blinked, not used to the vivacious woman that was his aunt Robyn. She'd never been around much when he was growing up and even less so in recent years, staying tucked away in her home in Indiana while acting as if the rest of them didn't exist. James wasn't sure why she'd let him come stay with her since they were virtual strangers, but he figured it had something to do with the fact that he wouldn't be staying long.
James nodded and grabbed his duffel bag, following her into the house as the door squeaked shut behind them. "Sorry I didn't pick you up from the bus stop but I was up all night finishing an illustration and forgot to set an alarm once I was finished. There was this one little fox character that I couldn't get quite right. He was supposed to be mischievous and yet he kept coming out looking more evil and-," she murmured mindlessly as she turned on the faucet and filled a kettle covered in an outrageous number of faded stickers with warm water.
James nodded along, already lost with what to do with himself. He shifted awkwardly, unsure. Here was this woman, whom James had only ever met exactly one other time during Christmas when the angry tension between her and his mother was enough to suffocate him, and there she was, talking to him as if they'd been living together for years instead of never at all.
" -and I have to catch a flight to New York in about-" she glanced down at the bedazzled watch dangling delicately from her wrist, "-ten minutes ago. Oh, and there's a bag that I need you to take over to Hex House this afternoon for me. It's across town, which sounds far since I know you have to walk, but seeing as this town is as small as it is, it really shouldn't be too horrible. Oh! Also-"
Her words were cut off by the clang of the kettle as she banged it on top of the stove, flicking the heat on and turning around to lean up against the edge of the counter.
"You'll be starting school on Monday. I already called the school and set up a time with one of the guidance counselors for Sunday morning to get your schedule drawn up and maybe give you a little tour. I have to say James, I'm so glad to see you. You're so grown up now. Already sixteen and-"
"You could have seen me at seven. At ten and then twelve, even when I was fourteen, but you didn't. So well I agree I'm significantly older than when you last saw me I don't believe in the slightest that you're glad to see me or missed me much at all," James interrupted. He couldn't help himself. This woman, this virtual stranger, was yammering on and on and acting like she hadn't made the choice to ignore the existence of her only nephew for his entire life. And really, James was having a bad couple of weeks, not to mention he was starting a new school that made this move seem all the more permanent. As if this were to be his new life now. He would no longer just be visiting, just missing a week or two at his high school back home that he could easily make up. It was all too much and too fast and James was feeling snappish and bitchy and this woman really meant nothing to him at all. And so she had become the unlucky recipient of his teenage angst.
Robyn arched a pale brow, her lips twitching. Because apparently she found him funny in that condescending way adults often did that pissed him off even more. The reaction was so different than the one he would have received from his mother had he spoken to her in such a way that he found himself even more nervous, wildly uncomfortable in this place he didn't know.
Robyn stepped forward, making as if to put her hand on James's arm in what he was sure was meant to be a comforting gesture but he flinched away completely on instinct. She couldn't touch him.
She couldn't.
No one could.
Robyn's eyes narrowed slightly but she took a step back, her hand flying to one of the plentiful rings on her right hand and spinning it around and around, over and over. She took a deep breath, her shoulders hunching inward as if something heavy rested there, something that lied beneath all the smiles and the senseless chitter chatter.
"I know I haven't been there when I probably should have. I know that. I know. I do. " The way she was looking at him, her blue eyes so soft and so sad and full of so much damn regret and pity, James had to wonder for a moment if she really did know. If she knew all of it, knew the worst secret that James had ever kept, the one that absolutely ruined him and everyone around him. The one he was being punished for now.
The thought made him sweat and he thought for a moment, when it looked as if Robyn might say it, might say the words aloud, that he would be sick. He would puke right there, all over the scarred linoleum and the fluffy white rug.
Instead she said, "And I plan on that being different now. I can't undo the decisions that I've made and I can't make up for them. I left you and for that I am the most sorry that I have ever been. I do not plan to make the same mistake twice, James. I'm with you now. I'm here."
And all James could do was stare. Her blue eyes were fierce, her hand spinning the ring around her finger faster and faster. The way she said it, with so much conviction, had James taking a step back. It was so opposite from the last conversation he'd had with his mother. She was saying all the things that he wished she would have said. Treating him with the compassion that he desperately needed from his mother. Looking at him like he was worthy. Worthy of her love, of her understanding.
And he knew he would never get any of it. Not from his mother. Not after what he'd done.
When James said nothing in response, Robyn nodded, turning around to shut the heat off as the kettle screeched and grabbing a drawstring bag from the counter and holding it out to him. James took it, feeling the scratchy material against the soft skin of his hands, Robyn quickly making up a cup of tea before swinging a pink purse onto her shoulder and securing what looked like a portfolio folder under her arm.
"I'll be back in time for the meeting on Sunday. I really am sorry to leave so soon after you got here but I couldn't reschedule my meeting with the author. Deadlines and all," she chuckled and made her way to the door, a small smile on her face. "The door at the end of the hall is your room and the one on the right is the bathroom. There's food in the fridge and that errand to run. I'll be back," she said, staring at him for just a moment too long, with just a bit too much intensity. Almost as if she were afraid to leave him alone. James nodded, more than eager to have Robyn and all of her kind concern somewhere far, far away. It was making him itchy and uncomfortable, not sure if any of it was even real.
Then she was gone and James was left standing in an empty house holding a bag of god only knew what and with a restless feeling in his chest that he didn't quite understand.
He wanted to scream. To scream and to yell about the unfairness of it all, to throw the world's biggest temper tantrum. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be there, he didn't want to run this stupid errand, and for fucks sake he didn't want to be god damn alone.
It was only when James felt himself burning up that he realized he needed to calm down. His hands were shaking, so incredibly hot that running them through his shaggy hair actually burned. This was the moment he knew he needed to calm down, to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes, focusing on anything but the searing heat, the rapid beat of his pulse that seemed to make his blood run even hotter.
James took his left hand, shaking so badly he could barely control it, and wrapped it around his right wrist, holding on tight and tighter and tighter still, the heat burning through his skin until his hands finally cooled, until he could breath again. The skin of his wrist immediately began to blister, a small trail of blood running down his arm until getting caught on the delicate curve of his elbow. He smiled a vicious smile, so pissed off, so fucking angry that the hiss of pain that fell from his lips left behind a feeling of deep satisfaction like nothing else could in that moment.
He shoved the drawstring bag in his hoodie pocket and pushed through the front door to find that it was pouring rain outside and for a moment he froze, remembering the last time it had rained.
Rainy days always incited lasting pains.
James heaved a sigh, pulling his hood up and trudging down the driveway, perfectly well aware that he had absolutely no clue as to where he was going. This would typically be the point where he whipped out his phone and pulled up directions to this Hex House place but considering he no longer had one of those, he was going to have to wing it. He honestly wanted to blow the whole errand off, to just say fuck it and throw himself into a painting until his eyes drooped in exhaustion and his shoulders ached from holding the brush up for so long. Why should he do anything for Robyn, a woman he barely knew, after she'd escaped his company not even five minutes into James's arrival? It made the part of James that was still so childish and searching, searching for some kind of love, ache and burn.
Like he said, he was relieved she was gone. Relieved and hurt in equal measure, it seemed.
It was chilly out, the breeze blasting James's pale hair into his face as he inhaled a deep breath, marveling at how fresh and clean the rain here smelled. Rains from back home were so muggy and sticky that you felt like you were drowning in them but here there was something rejuvenating about them, something refreshing. James glanced around at the crisp leaves threaded with lines of rusted copper and deep citrine clinging to the spindly branches of thickly grown trees, their sharp ends glistening with drops of clear water, and wondered how nice it must be to die as beautifully as the plants did.
James became aware of the sound of footsteps splashing in the rain behind him but hadn't thought much of it until he heard a sharp inhale, the sudden cease of all movement. He glanced back, turning around, his vision skewed by the rain, to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, an umbrella a cross between turquoise and sea foam shielding his face. All James could think at first was how strange it was for a boy dressed in all black to be holding such a vibrant umbrella. For some reason he really wanted to ask why.
The man just stood there, staring. James stared back, frozen in place, unable to move or tear his eyes away for some inexplicable reason. Standing there, looking at this stranger, felt like holding your breath, like the anticipation of that first inhale, knowing how satisfying it would be, how much relief it would bring you. James did just that, inhaled sharply and unsteadily, his hands tightening around the mesh bag in his pocket.
He felt, for some very strange reason, that the way this stranger carried himself was familiar. He was tall, less so than James, but still standing at around six feet. His black boots were polished and shining with drops of fresh rain, somehow without a single spot of mud on them. He donned a pair of obsidian colored slacks, an inky button down his only protection from the chill and the downpour except for the conspicuous umbrella. His hands were a golden tan that seemed to glow in the still bright rays of the sun, the only patch of skin James could see besides the graceful slope of his neck. He recognized nothing about this boy and yet-
They stood, simply staring. Not saying a word. James felt paralyzed, like he could stand in that moment forever, never looking away, never needing anything but the gaze of the boy staring back at him and the electric feel of the air between them. It felt warmer in the space between them, like James could taste the heat of it on the tip of his tongue.
The boy said nothing, not moving, not speaking, James not entirely sure that he was even breathing. James's skin felt like it was on fire, his heart pounding in his chest as if he were a hummingbird caught in the jaws of a predator, all for no damn reason. The boy took a step closer, his umbrella still obscuring his face, and kept on walking. Walking towards James until they were standing side by side, sharing the same space, breathing the same air. Something about the boy felt off, felt oppressive and dark, suffocating. James inhaled shakily, the air smelling of something spicy and warm, and then-
The boy kept on walking.