It was a sunny day, when I had gone to visit him. It wasn't a scorching hot kind of sunny.
No. It was pleasant. Even as the sun seemed to tickle your skin with its heat, the wind was cool enough to soothe it immediately after.
The trees were screaming in a chorus, the rustle of its leaves gitting louder and dying down at the whims of the wind. I had taken a bottle of lychee juice, a habit I picked up from you, and a box of his favorite donuts. The chocolate glazed ones, with chocolate chips drizzled on top.
And despite it being incredibly out of character for me, I had gotten him a bouquet of his favorite flowers. Asphodels.
It was a small bouquet, I had wrapped it up myself with newspaper. Arlo hated that cheap glossy paper. And even after taking on extra shifts throughout the past week, I could only afford that small bouquet.
Did you know Ayla? You can find those flowers three blocks away from my place. I thought I'd have to search half the country and finally sell a kidney to buy it from across the sea or something. But is had always been right around the corner.
His grave is a simple black stone.
Arlo Moore, it read. 2006 - 2024.
I had traced my hand across the quote engraved on the dark stone.
'May the sky carry him where this world never could.'
I had sat down on the neatly trimmed grass before his grave. Setting down the flowers, juice and donuts. Then I had straightened up once more.
"Hey, Arlo." I had said. The wind had rushed into my face, as if he was greeting me back. I had closed my eyes and turned my face towards this greeting, "it's been a while, hasn't it?"
And then I spoke. Told him all about you. Telling him I had got his favorite flower and donuts for him. I told him I wished him well wherever he was now.
I laughed at myself for doing something so absurd. "I think I love someone." I had told him. He would have jumped out of his seat, perhaps. And then accused me of playing a prank on him. Then I would tell him it was a girl. Then perhaps he would get a little more calm, thinking it's a delicate situation to tread around.
Perhaps he would ask me about you, what is she like, is she pretty? When did it start? What do you like about her?
Then he would probably throw a pizza party on this brand new discovery. But we'd all know he just really wanted to have pizza. He would have lost his mind, I'm sure, knowing I was in love with his sister.
I went off on a rant about you. Talking about your eyes, your hair. Your laugh that melted the coldest shards of my heart, your acceptance. Your kindness. Your fun little habits. Your favorite things. All the absurd food combinations that you couldn't get enough of, that I never understood, but still loved you for.
"And then," I had said laughing at the memories I had recalled, "she sneezed so loudly, Aster started howling," I had snorted replaying the memory in my mind, "And he wouldn't stop! She blushed so hard, Arlo, like god, it was adorable."
The sun was beginning to set.
I had to leave.
But I didn't want to, I had realized.
Just as I had had this thought, "Arlo liked sunflowers." she had said.
I didn't have to turn around to know who was speaking. "He used to." I had corrected without turning around, pulling my knees to my chest. "Then once Liam had read this novel, something about Greek mythology, and he had been ranting about the book to everyone he saw. Arlo ended up liking the flower named after the story in the book. He liked the meaning it carried, he thought it was tragically beautiful."
Mrs. Penny had come over and sat next to me, setting down her grand bouquet of sunflowers, wrapped in that aesthetic brown matte paper that showed elegance and class. Next to it lay my haphazard bunch of flowers, wrapped up in newspaper.
"What does it mean," she had asked, "the flowers?"
"My regrets follow you to your grave."
The wind howled louder now, cold and biting as the sun set. The chorus of the trees got louder as they shifted with more force.
"I'm his mother you know," she had laughed out bitterly, "but I only have the same blood to prove it."
More silence followed, that the wind filled with its screams, "It's been seven years since I've seen my son smile at me." Her voice had trembled, unable to bottle the grief she had. She began to cry quietly beside me. I had shifted closer to her and patted her back.
"Im sorry," I had told her. "Your son was very happy, up until the very end. I promise."
I had lied.
Mrs. Penny knew of the allegation we had made against that man in court. She was the one who had testified against us.
But she was his mother. And as much as Arlo would have hated the fact that his mother didn't believe what he went through, he would have hated letting her bear the weight of this grief all alone a lot more.
The sun had almost disappeared at this point.
The wind had gotten colder, and I had told Mrs. Penny so. I had told her the wind was getting colder, that she ought to head home soon. I had told her that I would wait until she caught a cab if she liked.
"Naia." she had said. Her words a crumbled resemblance of what it was meant to be. I had stopped in my tracks of clearing up the juice bottle and box of donuts that I had gotten and turned towards her.
I had met her eyes, and seen all the emotions that swirled beneath their bloodshot sight. All the guilt and sorrow she felt. Everything that would have broken her had she not shifted the ridiculous weight of it elsewhere.
"Leave the girl alone."
"Sorry?"
"Leave Ayla alone. She has suffered enough." she didn't waver in her gaze, only her words grew more crushed by the passing second. She had heard something. She must have come earlier when I had been talking about you. About how madly in love I was with you.
Mrs. Penny has always been a conservative christian, which was why I thought she said that at first.
"We're just friends I don't know what youre-"
"They will destroy her, Naia. Ayla, that poor girl, has suffered enough without you coming into her life and ruining it more." She took a shuddering breath, "If you love her, even half as much as you loved my son, you will leave her alone."
"I don't understand-"
"My son has died, Naia. And Ayla," she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut, allowing more tears to flow down.
"Ayla shouldn't suffer as he did."
She then got up and left.
"Wait!" I had shouted rushing forward to grab her arm. I had to know what on earth she was talking about. Not a word of it made enough sense for my mind to comprehend it.
"What are you talking about?"
"YOU WILL DISGUST HER NAIA!" she turned around so fast she stumbled, and I had helped her regain her balance. She pulled her arm out of my grip and waved her finger around at me. "YOU SHOULDN'T BURDEN THAT POOR CHILD WHO HAS ONLY KNOWN SUFFERING ALL HER LIFE." she had taken a deep shuddering breath, as if gathering all her might. "YOU WILL KILL HER!"
She had lunged forward to grab my arms and push me back with everything she had. Spit and tears falling at the intensity of her breakdown. "LIKE YOU KILLED MY SON!" she began sobbing towards the end. Collapsing onto the floor she began shaking and crying, "Like my son." she had cried like she did in my nightmares. At her son's grave.
I had unconsciously grabbed my bag and run out of there. When I had regained my consciousness again, I was a block away from the cemetery. It was dark and cold now.
I had pulled myself back, after regaining my posture for a couple of minutes, to the cemetery. I had asked the watchman to call a cab for the woman inside and tipped him off with the last few notes I had in my wallet.
I had taken the last subway back home that day.
I was afraid, angel.
This new fear spread like wild fire in my body. It made my hands quiver and legs shake. It made my chest burn from the inside, and a lump of pain had squeezed itself up my throat. Shredding the walls around along its climb up.
Then, for the first time, I had made myself sit down and actually consider your reaction to these feelings of mine. To my confessions. For the first time it hadn't just been a passing dread that would turn to sparkles and sunshine the second I heard your laughter.
No.
I sat down and thought over the possibility of you accepting everything that had happened. The fact that I had killed your precious brother. The idea that I feel for you as far more than friends.
The fact that bearing my burden would water the grief you had worked so hard to get used to. Till its branches would coil in your throat and its leaves would fill your lungs, breaking the small breaths you took till you simply couldn't anymore.
The fact that I would do worse than simply just hurt you.
The fact that I might end up killing you.
28Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIKeor7NBbc
And if anything ever happened to you,
I would paint the world with the devastation overflowing from the crevices of my heart. Nothing would remain in my trail but the agony of my loss.
If anything ever happened to you, angel, and I was the reason you were in pain, I could not live on.
Then I had gotten up and washed my face, then spent the night packing a small bag.
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.