"you were
the last
of your kind."

“I don't exactly understand who punched who at that party.” Tara raised her hands in annoyance.

Both Tara and I were seated in Nora’s car as she dropped us back home. This was usual. Nora liked driving us to and back from college. Sometimes Tara did, or Steph. I still found it a little difficult to ask Dad to teach me how to drive. Our relationship was as patchy as mine with Helen.

“Who knows.” Nora was concentrating on the road ahead. It was raining a little as she drove. But the fact that she spared me a glance told me that she was lying for my sake.

“Well, Lia, you were there.” Tara leaned forward from the back seat and Nora nearly impaled her with her elbow. “Spill the beans.”

“Um…I may have been drunk.” Was my excuse.

Tara sighed in a way that said she was exhausted from all the lies around her. “Well, then I suppose you wouldn't know who punched Liam the grocery boy either?”

That got my attention. “Liam the who?”

“He's a year ahead of us. Friends with Noah. Remember when he used to leer at you back in middle school or something? Well, he came with a black eye today at college.” Tara answered. 

Nora tsked. “How do you know so much about a guy who’s not even in our year?”

I frowned at no one in particular. “I don't think I know this Liam.” And I really didn't. There were lots of Noah's friends that I certainly didn't want to know.

Tara hung her head beside me. “Of course you don't. That's not what I care about. What I wanna know is who is this new saviour of yours, Lia. Liam seemed plenty mad, even if he might've confessed that he was saying some dirty stuff about you right before he got roughed up.”

I stiffened at that, then my eyes rounded in sudden realisation. For fuck’s sake.

"I gotta go," I whispered.

Both of them didn't seem to hear me at first. "He clearly deserved the punch, by the way," Tara added. Nora hummed in agreement.

I found my voice and asked Nora to drop me at the art studio instead of at my house. Tara seemed surprised but didn't say much (which was surprising on its own). I suppose Nora didn't ask me why I suddenly wanted to go to the studio either. All they both did was wave me goodbye (Nora might've smirked my way too) before driving away.

I was glad that it had stopped raining and was just drizzling a little when I got out of the car. It looked like it might start raining soon though, and unluckily I didn't have an umbrella with me. Fortunately though, I met Alastair halfway on my way towards the studio doors.

“Ophelia,” His voice came from somewhere behind me. And so when I turned around, I realised that he looked like he was going somewhere--car keys in his hand and wearing the same leather jacket I saw him in before.

“Where are you going?” I asked him with a small frown, walking towards him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked me, raising a brow.

So we were doing this then.

“I came here because I needed to ask you something.” I was clenching my jaw tensely. He looked quite the opposite, calm and standing tall right in front of me. Patient. If only he didn't go around punching people on my behalf. “Did you or did you not go to the grocery store yesterday morning?”

He seemed confused now. “Yeah?”

I sighed heavily. “Alastair, why?”

“Why did I go to the grocery store?” He asked, amused.

“No, why…” I suddenly remembered how bruised his knuckles had looked yesterday morning when he had made me those pancakes. “...why did you punch Liam?”

He was looking at me, yet it was almost unnoticeable when his grey eyes hardened a little. “Liam?”

“You know what I mean.” I waved my hand at him. “I don't…Alastair, don't make this any more complicated than it already is.”

He looked hurt. “I wasn't trying to, Ophelia.”

You are, I wanted to say. Both of us are making this more difficult, every single moment we are apart.

I shook my head, looking away. I wished I had pulled my hair up in a ponytail. It wouldn't have felt as humid as it did now, with my hair stuck on my neck and my back and my forehead.

“You can't just go around punching everyone who says something bad about me.”

“I can try.”

“You can't use violence against the whole town!” Not for me.

“The whole town?” His voice was soft as he tilted his head just a little.

“You know what I mean.”

Alastair took a step closer and I had to look up at him. “I will, Ophelia.” He said. “No one gets to call you such bloody names. You don't deserve that.”

“You don't get to tell me what I deserve!” My eyes were wide with exasperation. It had started raining a little again. “Not when…”

“Not when I left you.” He finished it for me. He didn't look happy.

“Not when you can't tell me why you left me,” I said instead, clenching my fists and stuffing them into my hoodie pockets. There we go again, I thought. I couldn't let go of things. He couldn't make them easier. That's what we were doing to each other.

Alastair let out an irritated huff that sounded more like a short humourless laugh. Then he dragged his hands through his hair.

“This is what I am talking about.” I lowered my voice, still refusing my eyes to stray away from him. “You can't tell me what I deserve, you can't go around punching people on my behalf, not when you can't even be honest with me.”

He looked at me then and his eyes held that impassiveness that I wasn't used to. It scared me. “It's complicated.”

“Fine.” I raised my hands up in the air, taking a step back. Perhaps the hurt and the disappointment and all of it was pretty obvious on my face.

“You might not fucking believe me!” He stopped me from taking another step away. “Ophelia, you have to understand--”

“Alas,” I exhaled and he stopped saying whatever that he was going to say next. His eyes were on me and he was here. I saw the tiny flicker of hope, or something quite similar to it, in the grey of his eyes. “I only want you to be honest with me.”

Silence. There was just silence as we both stared at each other for what felt like forever. I watched as a tiny raindrop slid down a lock of his hair. I watched as his eyes turned the same shade as the gloomy sky above.

Then he gazed down at the keys in his hand, twisting the keyring around his finger. Contemplating. No, he looked scared. And angry too as he looked up at me again.

“Okay.” He nodded with the dead set of his jaw. “Come on then.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I don't know how to say it.” He said. “But I can show you.”

******

I didn't know where we were going. I did message Mum though, telling her that I'd be a little late back home (am out with a friend, I texted) and followed Alastair to his car. 

Despite knowing every bit of this town since I spent my whole life here, I still didn't recognise where he was taking me.

“Is it someplace you know?” I broke the silence between us as he drove. He seemed tense. He was clutching the steering wheel a little too tightly. 

“You’ll see.” Was all he gave me for an answer.

So I waited and looked out of the window. It had started raining heavily again. And perhaps that was why I didn't see the giant letters in front of us at first. A sign that read The State Psychiatric Hospital.

I was confused. Highly. When Alastair stopped the car, he didn't quite get out. Instead, he faced me. I looked back at him, my eyes wide and holding so many new questions. What were we doing here?

“There's someone here that I need to see.” He told me, slowly, carefully. “I…I came here before but they didn't let me in to see her. I do know a way to get in now. You helped me.”

That didn't really help the confusion I felt at that moment. “I helped you?”

“Come on.” He nudged his head at me before opening the door. By the time I opened mine, ready to face the downpour, Alastair already had an umbrella over me. So I got out and edged near him, looking around the unfamiliar building in front of us. I knew a little of this hospital from back when I had been looking for volunteering programs. But I never got the chance to step inside.

“Who is it?” I asked him a little worriedly. I didn't know who we were going in there to visit.

All Alastair did was take my hand, sliding his fingers between my own, before we started walking towards the gates. He didn't give me an answer. He didn't have to when I got it myself a few minutes later.

The hospital looked much like the Oak Valley Sanitarium. It was a little surprising as I blindly followed Alastair inside, letting him pull me along by my hand. When we reached the reception desk, he closed the black umbrella and handed it to me. I watched him talk to the receptionist.

“There's only a few hours left for visiting.” The lady said without looking up from the thick register in hand. “Who are you here to see?”

“Imogen.” I heard him say. “And that's all right. I just need to see her for a few minutes.”

Imogen, I repeated in my head. That name sounded familiar.

The receptionist lady looked up at Alastair and I saw this sort of recognition flash across her eyes. Then she narrowed her eyes a little. “Name, please?”

Alastair waited a second. “Cassius,” He said then. “Cassius Hawthorne.”

I looked over at him in surprise. What was he doing? Apparently my cluelessness wasn't obvious enough since he didn't spare me a single glance.

The lady however glanced at him, almost as if making sure, then nodded. Turned around and took out two passes. Then her gaze was on me. "And you, young lady?"

I opened my mouth, not sure what to say. Were we using different names for me too? What the hell was going on?

"Lia Hart," Alastair said it for me before handing me a pass. I took it, clearing my throat. It sounded weird when he called me that.

"Make sure to hand out your passes before you leave." The lady said before passing the both of us a polite smile. Then she closed the register and gave Alastair one final glance. "It's been a while, Cassius."

As I followed Alastair down a series of hallways, I parted my lips countless times to ask him the evident questions. But each time I ended up saying nothing. Why had Alastair not given his name, but his twin's?

We stopped in front of room 45 and I stood there like a puppet, not so sure about anything at that moment.

Alastair finally managed to look at me. "Stay with me, all right?"

I furrowed my brows. "Alas--"

The staff guy at the front made sure to check our visitor's passes before opening the door for us, gesturing for us to follow. If Alastair hadn't been holding onto my hand, I might not have followed him inside.

Perhaps I was right to have this nagging feeling in my gut. Something didn't feel right. And I wasn't wrong. Not when I stepped inside the room, an average patient's room, and glanced at the said patient.

It took me a few seconds, but when recognition hit me, my grip on Alastair's hand went slack with shock.

"Look who's here to see you, Imogen." The staff guy, a middle-aged man with dark curls, spoke up with a bright smile directed at the woman. The woman that I had seen before. "It's your son."

Son, I repeated in my head. 

The person in front of me was Alastair's mother.

-------

do you guys like when it rains?

Crystal Xx.