✾ Alyssum ✾

It was snowing. My breath drifted around me, lingering in the air for a few seconds. Each time I exhaled, I felt the icy air in my lungs and watched my life drift into the night sky. Everything was still save for the hissing of people's skates and the distant honking of cars. Despite the haven Beau and I had escaped to, we could never entirely leave the city. 

My mind turned over and over, restless. I knew I shouldn't be worrying about it, but I was. It had meant so much to me that Beau had so easily accepted my past. I still wasn't sure he was entirely ok with it, but I wanted to believe his words of forgiveness and understanding. Plus, there was the whole painting thing. A show. It seemed kind of impossible.

"Nice and warm," Beau said, slowly walking up beside me. His boots crunched on the snow. Little snowflakes stuck to his hair and eyelashes. He held out one of the two coffee cups he'd returned with.

"Thanks," I said quietly, accepting his offer. I held the cup between my hands, warming them.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, leaning against the wall of the rink. We'd decided to go skating together. Beau thankfully seemed much calmer now that we were well past our first date. The first time we'd gone out, he was so nervous that he got a headache and fell asleep before we even made it home. I didn't mind. I'd been expecting it. He overthought things often, and I knew our first date wouldn't be the exception. I found it endearing that he still got so worked up despite the fact that we'd technically gone out tons of times before, just not as boyfriends. 

"You don't waste time," I said, resting my arms on the wall and staring at the scratched-up ice.

"Nope," he said with a charming little smile. "What is it?"

I shook my head. "Just thinking about an exhibition."

Beau's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked, hopping a little.

"Calm down. I never said I was going to do it," I said, smiling.

He wilted like I'd sucked up all of his sunlight. "Oh. Ok. But you're thinking about it?"

"It would be difficult," I said. "I have to contact all of the people I got entangled with along the way, and I'm not sure I'd be able to." I couldn't display the portraits for an audience without permission. Most of them wouldn't be the type to say no to a request others might find steep--they weren't exactly shy about their bodies--but the mere fact that it was coming from me might leave a sour taste in their mouths.

"Because you don't have their information or because you're afraid?" Beau asked suddenly. I winced. 

"Ouch," I said, somewhat surprised at his honesty. A little more of my emotion escaped than I had meant to let free. Shame bubbled up from beneath the surface, where I usually kept it safely hidden. 

"Sorry," he said, taking a sip. His breath spiraled around his face. His warm eyes bore into me, driving the filthy emotions away instantly. "It's just that I want to encourage you to grow the same way you did for me. Even if it's hard."

I felt a pressure to live up to his expectations. "Yeah, ok." I brought the drink he bought me to my lips but immediately grimaced. "Ok, what?"

"Hot chocolate," he said. "What, you don't like hot chocolate?"

"I've never had it," I said, staring at the cup. "It's too-"

"You've never had hot chocolate?" Beau asked, astonished. "Seriously?"

"I don't like sweet things," I said, putting the drink down. "I never had them when I was growing up because of my dad. Never developed a taste for them."

"Oh," Beau said quietly. "Well, at least use it as a hand warmer."

I stared at him, but he wouldn't look at me. His face was a touch scrunched up, which I knew meant he was thinking really hard. "Ok, it's your turn to fess up."

Beau looked up at me shyly. "You don't talk about your dad much."

I sighed and anxiously scratched my jaw. "I guess."

"I was just caught off guard," he said.

I watched him for a moment. He looked troubled. "I don't talk about him because he's not a part of my life anymore."

"It seems like he is," Beau said quietly. I grimaced. "I mean, he's on your mind still, even if you don't talk to him. I saw the painting you did."

"I don't like being treated like a victim," I said sharply.

"Neither do I," Beau said, my venom sliding right off of him unnoticed. "Which is why I'm not treating you like one. I'm just saying that sometimes it can be more painful to deny the truth than it would be to accept it."

"What truth have you accepted, in all your wisdom?" I asked harshly, feeling a bit attacked.

"That my mom's dead. She's not coming back, but that doesn't mean I need to stop living. It's ok for me to want my life back," he said calmly, looking up at the sky. 

I stared at him. I was being a jerk again. "Sorry," I said, taking him by the back of his neck and pulling him against me. I closed my eyes and felt him close. Fuck. I could only think about how bad I was at this, at everything. 

"It's ok for you to want your life back, too," Beau whispered into my chest.

I felt the beginnings of tears. Since when was I such an emotional person? "You think?"

"It's been years. I think you deserve it," he said, looking up at me. My eyes stung seeing him there, wrapped in his oversized coat, his eyes sparkling in the Christmas lights. I tried to imagine what it would have been like if I'd never seen him on that roof. I'd still be back in the empty apartment, mass-producing meaningless paintings with no purpose, haunted.

Well, maybe I hadn't escaped the haunted part yet. And I wasn't even sure if I'd found a purpose, but at least now I wanted to find out. "Guess I don't know how to get my life back," I said. "I'm not sure I ever really had my own life."

Beau looked sad. "I'd start by taking control of your story, of everyone in it. Then you can start on yourself."

I smiled. "You're a lot smarter than me, huh? This why you wanted me to keep those paintings?"

"I'm not smart. I think that when you feel a really deep pain it makes it easier to understand other people's. That's all," he said.

I sighed. The air was freezing, but I felt warm. I touched Beau's face and felt his icy cheeks. Kissing him tasted like hot chocolate. The sweetness of it didn't seem so bad.

"I'm going back to school soon," he said against my lips.

I groaned. "Don't remind me."

"We can't spend every day together," he said. He looked like a scolded puppy.

"We can still spend every day together. Just not all day, every day."

"I don't know how to talk about this," he said.

"This?"

He looked perplexed. "I haven't told Sallie or Amory about us."

"I haven't told her either," I said. "Felt like it should just be ours for a while."

He smiled, clearly as happy about that thought as I was. The season had been a special one. I'd remember it forever. "But I have to tell them. They'll ask about it," he said.

"I think Sallie probably already knows. If she didn't, she would have come knocking. She probably just wanted to give us space."

Beau smiled. "That's sweet."

"I'm shocked she's lasted this long, to be honest. I figured she'd barge in the day after I got you back."

"She loves you," Beau said, eternally full of adorable innocence.

"She loves you, too," I reminded him. "She's always-"

"Catch of the week, huh?" I froze. I recognized the voice that had so rudely interrupted our moment. It felt like an anvil had dropping in my stomach, crushing my strength all at once. It had been a while. Lust had been transformed into abhorrence. Still, I recognized it, recognized her. "Well, maybe not week, huh? Catch of this Wednesday? Surely, he won't last any longer than that."

"I recognize her from your portraits," Beau said. He was looking up at me with a mild hint of panic in his eyes.

"Yeah," I confirmed, looking away from him. The woman in front of us wore a classy black coat, fur boots, and a beret. As ever, she was the peak of fashion. She oozed wealth. The waterfall of glossy blonde hair and the icy blue eyes I had once found alluring now only made me feel like sewer water in a ditch. I could still remember how she felt pressed against me, her legs locked around my hips like iron. "Aurora," I said as calmly as I could manage, but my voice shook.

"You're disgusting," she snarled. "Absolutely foul. He's just a kid. He doesn't know what he's getting into with you."

"I'm not-"

"Listen, kid," she turned on Beau, "this guy will fuck you and then toss you out like trash. The minute he's done with you, he'll act like he never even knew you. Won't return your calls. Won't even send a text. Get out while you still can," she said before turning to leave.

I desperately searched my vacant mind for something I could say to her, anything. But no matter where I looked in the cavernous dark space up there, words came up short. Until... "You're wrong." I froze, surprised. The words hadn't come from me. 

I stared at Beau. He looked angry. "You're wrong," he insisted.

She stared at him. The hostile iciness of her eyes melted slightly. "You just believe that because you're young. No one's broken your heart yet. But trust me, ok?"

"Ren's not who he was when he met you," Beau said.

"People don't change," she said coldly.

"I'm sorry, Aurora," I said before I even realized I'd said it. "I'm so sorry."

She stared at me, no doubt attempting to determine my earnestness. "No, you're not."

"I am, actually," I said. She didn't look like she believed me. I turned to Beau. "Stay here, ok? I'll be right back."

Beau looked nervous. As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist, his other hand still wrapped tightly around his hot chocolate. He didn't say anything, but his expression portrayed desperation and unease.

I smiled and turned to him. He jerkily released his grip on me. "It'll be fine, ok?" I kissed his cheek quickly before leaving him standing there by the rink.

I walked past Aurora, pausing only to allow her to catch up.

"I don't know why I'm even following you. I should just leave," she said under her breath.

"Probably," I replied. "If you left right now, I wouldn't blame you for it."

She scoffed. "You don't have to keep this act up. We're out of the kid's earshot."

I shook my head. "It's been a long time since we last talked, you know?"

"Remember when you told me that I was clingy? That during sex, I made too much noise?" she asked.

I grimaced. "Aurora-"

"Or worse, how about when you said that you didn't want to have sex again because I was 'aggressive'?" she said. "Huh? You want me to believe that you're not the person who said those things and then ditched me?"

I opened my mouth, but no noise came out. I remembered the things I said to her clearly, but I didn't want to. Still, she was obviously hurting. I had to say something. "I didn't mean those things. I just wanted to make you hate me," I admitted.

"Yeah, well it fucking worked." She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to one foot. It made me feel small for some dumb reason. "You're a certified asshole."

I glanced back at Beau. He was staring at us, waiting. My heart clenched. "Look." I pressed onward. "I'm really bad at honesty, vulnerability...uh, basically anything that makes a good person. I know that. You know that. But it's why I pushed you away. I wanted to be close to people, but I didn't want them close to me."

Her arms slightly loosened their death grip of her chest. "Go on."

"For reasons I don't think you really care about, I'm kind of messed up. I know it's not an excuse for my behavior, but please believe that I regret how I treated you. A lot."

She sighed and tucked her hands into her pockets. "Ok," she said, shoving snow around with the toe of her expensive boot. "So you're different now. That's what you're trying to tell me."

I shrugged. "Hopefully."

She looked up at me, biting her ruby lips slightly. "Who is he, then?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"What's his name?" she asked, nodding to where Beau stood.

I looked back at him. He tilted his head slightly, asking me a question with his eyes. I smiled. "His name's Beau. He's my roommate and recent boyfriend."

"How long have you been with him?"

"Uh," I frowned, trying to count in my head. "Roommates since early in the summer. Dating since...well, less than a month."

Her expression changed. "I didn't think you had something like that in you."

I shook my head. "I can't explain it to you."

"Something about him?" she asked.

I nodded. "I love him."

Her eyes widened. "Him? He's kind of..." I snuck another peak at him. He was sitting on the edge of the rink, kicking his legs like a bored kid. When he realized I was looking at him, his back straightened and he leaned forward like he was trying to hear what we were saying. "Kind of odd."

"Yeah, he is," I said fondly.

She laughed lightly. "Ok, fuck it. Fine. I gotta get out of here."

"Wait," I said, catching her. "I have something to ask you." I didn't know why my heart was beating quickly.

"What?" she said.

"Can I...use your portrait?"

"My portrait."

"Yeah. The one I painted of you wh-"

"I know what portrait you're talking about, Ren," she interrupted. "What are you going to use it for?"

"A show. Uh, exhibition." I hadn't thought this through. She was going to ask--

"What's the show about? Why do you need my portrait?" she said. I winced. Yep.

"I painted a portrait of, uh, everyone I hooked up with. I think...well, I want to bring them together, turn them all into something beautiful that people can appreciate." I'd basically recited Beau's sentiments word for word. It made me feel like a jerk.

"I'm going to ignore that you painted everyone, because I was under the distinct impression that it was our thing and the realization that it wasn't makes me feel like a fool," she said, looking away from me. She was trying to be strong, but I saw a hint of hurt in her eyes before she hid it from me. I felt like I was going to throw up.

"It's a dumb idea," I said, shaking my head. "Forget it."

"Why do you want to do it?" she asked. "What are you trying to get out of it?"

"I guess I'm trying to make something good out of all the bad I've done," I replied. "And it'll give me a reason to apologize to everyone. I don't want to keep living with all this guilt."

"Trying to wrap everything up in a neat bow," she said quietly.

"It was Beau's idea, actually. To be honest, I don't want to do it. I've made it this far living half a life, right?" I forced a laugh, but it sounded fractured. The false levity dissolved. I couldn't keep it up. "Just...I can only offer Beau that depressing half-life if I keep going like this. He deserves more than that, than me, pitiful, broken thing that I am. I don't want any of that. He looks up to me a little and doesn't know I look up to him a lot."

It was my turn to try to hide my rebellious emotion. Aurora narrowed her eyes, perhaps realizing that none of it was an act. "The world would be a better place if people like you could become better."

An exasperated laugh burst from me. "Yeah, I guess so."

"It's fine with me," she said.

I stared at her, shocked. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," she said. "Just send me an invite to the exhibition. That is, if you still even have my number."

I nodded. "I have it."

She smiled. "Good. Now, go apologize to him for me." Her boots crunched as she walked away. "Good luck, Ren."

I watched her go. Her hips swayed and her hair bounced where it rested on her shoulders. I listened to the sounds of the skates, of people laughing and talking. As I watched her go, I felt myself slipping away from reality, disconnecting and sliding helplessly into cruel nostalgia. I was, in that moment, glad. And then fast footsteps thudded in the snow behind me.

Beau slammed into my back, jerking me down into reality. His arms closed around my stomach and squeezed tightly. "Copper," I gasped. "I can't breathe."

"That's fine," he said, his voice muffled by my jacket.

I placed my hands over his. "God, you have a strong grip."

"You don't need to breathe as long as you stay close to me," he said.

My heart smacked against my rib cage. "What are you talking about?" I asked, prying his arms away and turning around. As soon as I did, he shrugged my hands off and wrapped those arms right back around me. He rested his head on my shoulder, so I rested my hand on his head and held him.

"You went off with her. And then you just stared after her like that. You talked like old friends, like you know each other better than we do. And she's so pretty," he said without taking a breath between sentences.

I chuckled. I couldn't help it.

"Don't laugh at me," he exhaled, anguished. "Please, I'm serious."

"Sorry," I said, still smiling. I played with his hair absently. "I just thinks it's amusing that you believe anyone could ever make me look away from you."

He lifted his head and stared at me, his eyes flicking across my face, searching.

"You don't have to worry, Beau. I know I'm not famous for my loyalty, but I'd never hurt you," I said.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to-- That's not what I-"

"I get it. You just don't know how much to trust me yet." Still, it stung a little bit.

"That's not it," he said, shaking his head. "I trust you entirely. I think I'm just...I don't feel worthy. Like, look at you and then look at me. I guess the thought of you reconnected with your exes is different from actually seeing it happen."

I felt simultaneous relief that Beau did trust me and anger that he'd demean himself like that. It made our kiss deep and a little bit wild, paradoxically forceful and tender. As always, Beau's knees buckled a tiny bit. I supported his weight more easily this time, expecting it.

"W-We're in public," Beau managed. His breath puffed into the air between us, coming more quickly now. "PDA."

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen, Beau. You know that, don't you? I want to paint you more than I've ever wanted to paint anyone. I want to mix the color of your hair and fold myself into it. I want to shape the curve of your lips." I touched my thumb to his cupid's bow. His eyes glazed over and flickered like little candle flames. He grasped clumsily at my coat. "I want to trace the lines of your stomach, your hips, all of you on my canvas. Believe me when I say, Beau, that you are everything to me. I couldn't leave you if I tried, you've got such a tight grip on my heart."

He didn't say anything. He just gazed at me, his cheeks flushed and his breath drifting around us. Finally, he moved. He took my hand from his head and guided it toward his chest. Slowly, he unzipped his coat and pressed my hand against his heart. It was beating hard, a million miles a minute, racing across the entire world. 

"Copper-"

"Let's go back home," he said quickly, almost feverishly. "I want to touch you."

I took his hand tightly in mine. My mouth went dry. The thought of Beau touching me, his thin fingers, his warm hands, his shy expression and gentle eyes. We practically ran back to the apartment, stopping only to catch our breaths and lose them all over again with stolen kisses.