LEIGH

At pass one in the morning; dad helps Susan to their bedroom. The woman had been emotional since after Ava exited the theater, admitting every failed moment of her past relationship and how she regretted ever knowing Ava's father. In her defense, she was young and foolish but had sworn Ava was a miracle at the end of the day and was worth any struggle she endured, but she wouldn't want any of that for Ava.

Through the hour that passed, I had picked up a few things from what I have missed in the past year, like, Susan only wants the best for Ava but somehow doesn't understand her daughter anymore because their relationship flipped and come to be a strange distant bond since last summer.

I also learned that Ava is in a position where she presumes everyone as her enemy, and I understand entirely, given the people surrounding her aren't the best companies. I wouldn't say the time we had together before I left was enough, but through those days, I had gotten to know Ava adequately and saw her for who she really is.

Coming home after a year, a lot has changed of course, and we both might have grown up, which results in some changes, but I am convinced that the same girl who I found making tea in the kitchen is the same girl I came back to.

Behind those efforts, she pulls on to appear undaunted, was a girl struggling to find herself as she is growing up in a place no one cared enough to see through the pain she was hiding.

Changing homes is tough, but moving across the sea to an entirely new place is the worst. I know how Ava must feel, having said goodbye to a place she wasn't ready to leave. When mom died, and we had to leave our home where all the good memories were sowed, it was agonizing; I felt sore inside for years, trying to find myself in this city. But the wrenching pain lingers until time makes its effect, distancing me from constant remembrances and fading away the pain I thought would never leave.

Ava was going through the same situation, without having anyone to tell her it would be okay, and not to mention how bitter our relationship ended last year. Things clearly had been hard for her. All I thought was Susan would be there to support her daughter, but It was sad to come back and find the relationship between Susan and Ava had crumbled.

Well, for Lilith's case, it seems just the equivalent issue of Ava's, which is self-defense. Only the difference is Lilith could handle it because she had been living in defense since the juvenile stage, and Ava is trying to get the significance of all the things around her.
Lilith, on the other hand, uses attacks to block any kind of human connection. In contrast, Ava is easily inclined to believe people and instinctively has that urge to care for others no matter how much she tries to assemble a selfish and insensitive demeanor. She was just not it.

I am aware of the damage I did to her. I am mindful I was behind all her pain.

What floats in my mind as I head up the staircase to my bedroom was, have I been the head start of this disarray?

If only things had worked out last summer, no one would have suffered. I don't know about our parents, but I am sure Ava could have been happy. I had plans to visit every week. Hell, I even reconsidered skipping a year or two while aware of the consequences to face. But nothing mattered than having more time with Ava until papers and ink took that away from me and sent me far across the country, regretting every second I've spent writing in that journal.

The thought haunts me through the warm shower; it remains persistent while I put on my boxers brief and lay onto my bed that I find uncomfortable.

When everything felt conflicting, even breathing, I walked back to the walk-in closet and searched through my bags for a miracle.

Fortuitously there it was, in my black leather jacket, in a small zip lock. The anti-anxiety pill that was prescribed to me when Claire decided I see a doctor instead of taking Julian's unlawful supplies.

I hastily gulp down a couple of pills and take slow, deep breaths.

But even when I settled onto the big bed that was supposed to feel comforting, my head felt like blowing up. I rolled and tossed the pile of pillows I thought were the problem, pushing back the voice in my head that kept reminding me how much I'd messed Ava up.

The reflection of that melancholy expression she left the theater with ambushed my vision, even when my eyes were closed and electronic music was playing through the buds I've inserted into my hearing.

Giving up, I pull myself up and sigh, rubbing my face.

It's risky going to her room mainly after what had happened; it's feasible for Susan or my dad or even Lilith to decide to check on Ava.

After all, it's perilous leaving my room for Ava's predominantly now that Lilith's watchful eyes are triggered ever since she found Ava and me in here at midnight the other night.
I wonder if earlier, Claire hadn't been fast with the cue, there wouldn't have been only a mother-daughter misunderstanding, I bet by now Ava and I could've been a cargo, shipped somewhere far away from each other. I am sure of that because Dad had specifically taken Lilith and me for dinner two years ago and cautioned clearly about any kind of trouble before Ava got here in Vegas.

Well, despite all the risks and Claire's earlier warnings coming forth in my head, I toss them to the back of my mind. I shouldn't be here in my room.
I call Ava my girlfriend, yet here I am, four doors away from her, after two hours since she ran out crying. I should be running after her, consoling her. Hell, I should have followed her the moment she ran out of the theater as every regular boyfriend would. What's wrong with me?

I hate I have to repress my feelings and emotions because I am Leigh Boyce, and I don't make wrong decisions that would ruin my future or my family.

But here's something to digest before calling me a coward; I might look well trying to be the man the world expects of me, but my inside is crashing; I am starting to operate meaninglessly.

It took battling with all the mental warnings that came bombarding in my head to finally agree to do the right thing, whether it led to imperiling all that I've built for this family, right now, I shouldn't matter. I have to be present for her. I have to be there for her.

I slip a pair of black Nike shorts over my boxer's brief, plain black t-shirt and connect the magnetic charger to my phone, placing the device on the nightstand and exiting the room for Ava's.

Skulking, I arrive at Ava's room and push the door to the quiet space. Instantly adjusting my eyes at the dark environment that swallow me. The room had a sweet essence, calming and enlivened with a soothing aura, collected with her savory scent.

The stillness had me in anticipation, or perhaps she's already asleep.

I was careful not to make any unnecessary noise when my legs guided me to her bed, and I found the nightstand lamp, turning it on.

The bed was unoccupied.

It was then my heart stopped beating in my chest and dropped to my stomach. My panicked eyes began to wander around the room. But there was nothing.

She wouldn't possibly run away? Would she?

I was about to lose it when I heard the sound of water running from the bathroom direction.

The door was slightly open, and a streak of light beam through it.

How did I skip it earlier?

Impulsively, I hurry to the door and push it wide open, not caring to close my eyes at what position I might find her. I just wanted to make sure she was okay, but what I found punched through my chest and left a hole in there.

"Ava?" I called panicky, advancing towards her in a heartbeat.

She cowered under the rainfall shower, clothed, with her knees to her chest, hugging her small body. Her head was buried in the space between her arms, and her wet hair was sticking against her skin and damp t-shirt.

No! no-no.

She wasn't reacting to my presence.

Everything about this situation forces a sudden heart attack in me while I drop to my knees, trying to rescue her. But the moment my hands reached her arms, she lifted her head from the nook of her arms. Those captivating hazel eyes that were now encircled with redness had thinned from puffiness and eyed me with alertness; her face was flushed and signified she had been crying for the whole two hours. What terrifies me more is the icy water pouring above her at this time of the day; it could get her sick by morning.

This is no way to celebrate a birthday.

I quickly reach for the switch and turn the water off before settling back on the floor across from her.

Her breathing was even, her lips parted, and her eyes... Well, her poignant eyes will remain in my head forever. The pain living in there was beyond anything conceivable; it stabs me repeatedly.

I glared at her until I found words to articulate, and even then, they came out so low because of the massive lump in my throat. "You were hurting yourself."

"I was showering for bed." She muttered, her voice hoarse and croaky. She ended up clearing her throat twice.

"You don't shower with clothes on and such frigid water at this late night." Or early morning depends on how you saw it.

"It's nothing." She tried to smile, but I wasn't buying it. She couldn't hide the fact that she had been crying. It's written all over her face. "Is just shower, Leigh. I wasn't slitting my wrists." She added, her poor joke only worsening the case.

"Why? What happened?" I asked again that same question she hadn't answered.

"What? Nothing." She exhales a shaky laugh and grabs my hand, but my hand frantically pulls away, and a frown hardens her expression.

No, don't do that.

I scoot closer, my legs coming in contact with the wet floor. I wrapped my palms over her small hands and offered her a crooked smile that might come out miserable.

She blinked and inhaled deeply before returning a soft smile.

"I missed out on a whole year. Ava, what really happened?"

Her eyes flutter, and she opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it. "And don't lie to me. I can see through your eyes. You're hurting, but you're forcing yourself to come out okay. Why?"

"You don't know." She faltered, staring at me with fearful eyes.

"I want to know."

"There is nothing to know. I am fine. I. Was. Just. Taking. A. shower." She punctuated her words not because she was angry but because her voice was unsteady and sometimes came out squeaky when she tried to volume up her almost inaudible voice.

Why is she lying to me? Who takes a cold shower in their clothes at this time?

"I thought we're trying to move forward," I asked, feeling the sting of pain from the hit of disappointment her words shot me with.

"We are." She retorted, seeming anxious and pleading.

"We are not. You're not talking to me, you keep shutting any chance of good conversation I start, and we need to talk."

She looked at me with a strangled expression and started; "Leigh-"

"Why did you change your hair color?" I asked the question that she kept running from.

She sucked in a breath, and her eyes flickered past my intense eyes that was searching for honesty from her.

I studied her with a predator's unwavering attention.

"Ava? Please. It's me, not anyone. What changed? Why are you pushing me away?" We used to talk.

"Pushing you away?" She nodded at me, fighting with the pool of tears crammed in her eyes, and a headache came hitting me in full force at the condition we were in.

"That's how it feels. You're closing every means of communication and understanding between us."

"But I am here." She almost sobbed, turning her head to the side, and even in situations like this, I can not manipulate the admiration I have for her. She was a hue of red, flushed from crying under the shower for long, but her beauty could not be defined.

"But you're not talking," I whispered gently.

Eventually, the tears couldn't hang back; they began to fall. She pulled away her hands from mine and tightened her quivering bottom lips between her teeth. Her feet started to tap on the wet floor beneath her as if she was experiencing a breakdown.

She looks vulnerable, fragile, struggling to breathe while fighting with evident pain blazing in her teary eyes.

I swallow the permanent lump stick in my throat and decide, "Okay, let's not talk about it."

If my persistence had this effect, I wouldn't insist on talking anymore.

"You are angry at me. Aren't you?" She puled and stuttered.

How can I be when every emotion running in me has veered around and turned to guilt, seeing her this broken and hurt.

"I can never get angry at you." I shook my head thoughtfully and averted it down at our bare feet.

Silent passed around us; then I heard her frail voice, so broken, it penetrated my skin and woke goosebumps all over me.

"Cold bath had always-had always eased the burns of my regrets. I wish mom never married your dad. Does that make me a miserable person?" She blubbered out.

With my hooded eyes down, I shake my head, no.

She has no idea how I have wished for that more than I've hoped for my mother to live. So, of course, I am the miserable one, not her.

"I didn't know what to do. You left so quickly without delaying a day. I could have rethought, Leigh. I could have, rethought." She repeated, her wounded eyes locked on mine.

I became speechless and breathless at the moment. My heart ceased working while I glared at her with every part of me that yelled out regret.

"I wish-I wish we never parted. I wished I didn't have to see that journal. I wished I wasn't so kind to believe my mother needs happiness because she doesn't deserve it. And I am now paying badly for being generous and naive."

"You wouldn't pay for any of her failures."

She scoffs and briefly looks away as if my words were unbelievable.

"I can't have you enough, and I swear I want to. But I can't. I should call you mine, but everyone thinks it's Claire that you love. I should tell them to stop, but a good sister doesn't intrude on her brother's romantic relationship... They expect too much of me-and I can not be that person. I am a sham. I am so weak; I can not even manage to counterfeit emotions as it should be." She cried, lowering her curled body to lay her head on my folded lap.

I peer sightlessly at the tiled wall for an awkward extended time, trying to register all that she had said because she was right.

I didn't know what to say to erase her pain but rather listened to her cry all night while I stroked her wet blonde hair and arms until the floor underneath us dried up, and her once drenched shirt was slightly damp.

I picked her above my arms to the bed around five in the morning and quietly tucked her in bed after offering her my dry shirt that she heartily collected and slid over her head.
She had been wide awake the whole time and implored me to stay with her when I hesitated to leave.
After all, I didn't have it in me to go back to my room, not after losing her for an excruciating painful year. So join her on the bed that smelled like her and pulled the covers over us, holding her tight in my arms with her hand around my waist until sleep stole us away and there was no pain to bear.