The words had escaped his lips in the heat of the moment from the depths of his despair. Because as he yelled at her and tried to push her back, the thought of losing her killed him.

There was no turning back from the moment she'd followed him into the gym. Maybe something could have been salvaged if she'd just let it slide. Tormented herself about the meaning of his words, but kept her usual cowardice and allowed him to get away with it.

Yet, it was her unexpected bravery that had endeared her to him more than anything. How she could rise above her condition and fight for what she wanted. This time, she wanted him, and the moment she admitted that, it was even harder to escape.

Yes, he could have pushed her back. He could have screamed it in her face that he didn't love her, even if it would have been a lie. But the way she looked at him, the fire in her eyes... It reminded him of his parents again, of how they'd sometimes fight so passionately.

It made him think that there was no reason for him to throw away something he wanted, what was probably the best thing in his life at the moment. And all for what? His inner demons? She'd proved more than once that she could drive them away.

He didn't want to lose her. The reality of it had turned him desperate. He didn't want to hurt her. This particular realization was shocking, because he'd always thought she didn't matter, that their relationship was all about teasing and brutal honesty. Until it wasn't anymore. He wouldn't allow anyone to hurt her, and he wasn't the exception.

All this led to that moment when she'd pushed. And when she did, the words came out because he knew that was what she wanted to hear. He'd never thought he meant them. But the moment she said what he wanted to hear, he realized he might.

Because what was love if not this? Wanting to protect her, to see her smile? To kiss her, touch her and do so much more to her? What more was there to it? Did it need to be more?

His mind buzzed and he had no idea what to do with himself. So he sat on the front steps of his house, his hands under his chin, staring blindly at the house across the street.

He was confused.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way, but he was sure that when it had last happened, his father had been there to guide him. An unpleasant idea formed itself as he came to realize how much he had always depended on his father. In his endeavor to make him independent, Sirius had strewn invisible strings that tied them together with his mysteries and promises for information. He'd created and independent dependent man.

"How ironic," he mumbled into the wind. And how ironic that he hadn't figured that out until a certain dependency had formed for someone else.

So this time, the need for his father felt different. Like the true need for advice from a parent. Advice about feelings and the fear he felt that he was reading this wrong, pushing away what was supposed to be happiness for the sake of... For the sake of what, really? His stubbornness? His impulse to push everyone away and stay lonely and miserable?

This was why he needed advice. Because right then, he couldn't tell whether there were legitimate reasons to push Millie away or not. If he truly was in love with her or not. What would his father say?

It was amazing how he could still imagine him, the sound of his voice and the way his tone would turn mellow whenever he had something to say outside their usual talks of training, gained skills, and mysterious futures. Davyn was so sure that Sirius would sit on the step next to him that he could almost feel his presence.

"What are you really after, Davyn?"

That's what he would ask. So he thought about it long and hard. It was so muddled it took a long while to identify the feeling.

"Purpose," he finally said out loud.

"Purpose. Why?"

"Because all my life I was made to think I was born for something and now it's no longer coming. I don't know what it is!"

"Just because you don't know what it is, it doesn't mean it's not coming."

Davyn froze, unaware if those were his own thoughts or what he thought his imaginary father would say. In all his wallowing in self-pity and trying to make life bearable, he'd ignored something so obvious that it now felt like insanity.

This thing... Whatever his father was supposed to reveal when he turned eighteen... It hadn't come, not without Sirius. But what if it was the reason he no longer had his father? What if whatever was supposed to come would come regardless of what happened, but he'd just be a lot less ready for it when it did?

The thought made him shudder, so he pushed it to the back of his mind. He had nothing that could sustain this theory. He should talk to the police before jumping to crazy conclusions.

"There's nothing you can do about it now. You should focus on yourself."

Yes, that would be something his father would say. That he should leave the complicated stuff to him and just focus on being a kid for a little while longer. Not that he'd ever been a truly normal kid, but still... Here he was with normal kid problems.

"How do you know if it's love?"

"Oh, Davyn. But you know what love looks like. You've witnessed it your entire life."

Of course he had. And it was the way it looked that made him say the words to Millie in the first place. What he had with her resembled what he knew to be love. But that didn't mean he knew the way it felt.

"Does she make you happy? Does she make you better?"

Well, she made him feel better. And he did enjoy spending time with her, kissing her. Thinking about her made him smile and lessened the pain.

"What more do you want? And why are you so afraid?"

"Because with you and Mom, love was forever. For me..."

"We chose to make it forever. Just like it will be up to you."

A choice. He had a choice in the matter. He leaned his chin in his hands, trying to make sense of the feelings inside him, but maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe he should just take the plunge and enjoy this. Let himself be happy for a while. Lord knew he deserved it.

His father was right. What was he afraid of? He'd never been afraid in his life. It wasn't like Millie would hurt him. She adored him, that he was sure of. When she said she loved him, he'd believed her, even if he'd tried to dispel it. She was made for him.

The thought warmed his chest and he found himself smiling like a moron. He'd been so closed off for so long, but maybe now it was time to open up to someone for once. Someone other than his parents. Maybe Millie had earned that right the moment she chose to be in his corner no matter what.

"Thanks, ghost-Dad," he whispered into the silence.

"That's my boy."

♣

Millie couldn't keep the grin off her face. The roller-coaster of feelings she'd experienced had left her giddy and exhausted at the same time and now, after Davyn left her to go home for a few hours, she had no idea what to do with herself.

He loves me. He'd said the words, and in maybe that precise moment she realized that her feelings weren't just smoke and mirrors or a teenage infatuation. They were true. She was in love. After what felt like decades in the shadows, she was now finally in the light.

The exhaustion was replaced by an energy she'd never experienced before. She couldn't just linger. She had to do something with herself. And since school was over, she chose to go to the music room and sit in front of the piano once again.

With a deep breath, she started playing the song she was preparing for Julliard. She was very familiar with it by now, at least with the parts she'd penned down as permanent. But when she reached the end, her fingers continued dancing on the keyboard, music flowing, so perfect and so smooth. She stopped to jot down the notes, then tried again, with other combinations, creating a melody like the branches of a tree. All choices were just as sturdy, so it was hard to decide on one or another.

"Davyn would know which one sounds best," she whispered to herself.

The smile was still on her face. The energy was still there, and she still had time to waste. He hadn't mentioned coming back, but she knew he would. And this is where he would look for here. Here, or in the art room.

The thought of the art room came with a sudden longing to paint. She gathered her sheet music and decided to move there. It took her mere minutes to reach her little corner. She still hadn't finished any of her paintings, losing interest once she finished the parts she liked. But Davyn's portrait... That could never be perfect enough.

Even now, she stared at it, wondering if the shade of his eyes wasn't off.

Someone grabbed her arm and she jumped. Her heart soared for a second before plummeting dramatically. It was Max.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I would ask you the same, but it's pretty obvious." His eyes drifted to the portrait of Davyn. "Wow, you're smitten."

"And what's wrong with that?" she yanked her arm free.

Max didn't answer as his gaze stayed on the painting. Millie wished he'd look away.

"This is actually really good. Ignoring that I know the guy."

"Thanks."

Finally, his attention returned to her. "Are you sure about this, Mills?"

"Yes. It's fine. We talked it out. He really is my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend or boyfriend?"

She faltered. A part of her knew what he meant to ask, but it wasn't clear which one of the two words was the right one.

"There are real feelings between us."

"Millie, he's graduating. He won't be here next year. Are you sure you want to get into this with two weeks left to go until we go home?"

Crap. In her love-induced haze, for a few blissful hours she'd completely forgotten that time was ticking and the school year was over. A mild panic overtook her. Max must've seen it because he let out a heavy sigh.

"You really haven't thought this through, have you?"

No, the issue was that Davyn hadn't. And since he wasn't going to college, what did that mean?

"Maybe you should talk about it with him." Max's tone was hesitant, as if he didn't believe Davyn could be talked to.

"I'm really fine, Max. We're fine. He's not that scary."

"He looked pretty scary back there."

He did. And for a moment, Millie had even thought he might hurt Max. But that was silly, because he was actually merely conflicted due to his feelings for her. His real feelings.

"Don't worry about me," she said. "We've talked it over and he feels the same way about me as I do about him."

Max's eyes narrowed and she could tell he was planning an inappropriate question. "How long have you been together?"

She hesitated because she wasn't sure exactly when they'd become a thing. The only real moment she could put her finger on was when they first kissed. "A couple of months, I guess. Maybe a little more."

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Not yet." She slapped her hand over her mouth.

"Gee, thanks for tacking that yet there, sis."

"You shouldn't have asked! And I'm seventeen by the way and don't have to answer to you."

"Believe it or not, I know your age. And don't get so huffy, I only asked because it reflects on his real intentions. So he's been with you for over two months and hasn't pushed?" He let out a low whistle. "Yeah, I guess that means something. He gets to live another day."

Millie rolled her eyes. "Or you get to live another day."

He snorted. "Yeah, true. I don't like you enough to lay my life down for you. You can take care of yourself." He gave her a lazy wave and headed off.

Millie watched him go, grateful that he wasn't annoyingly protective. But, after all, since he was her twin, neither of them actually watched out for the other. Sure, they both cared, but they had always respected each other's decisions. Millie hadn't pestered him about gambling, and he hadn't given her a hard time for being an art-obsessed recluse. And now, he trusted and respected her choice to be with Davyn.

Except he'd made a perfectly good point. She glanced at his portrait and her insides tied in knots. There were only two weeks of school left and then they'd have to go home. Why had she started this now, when it was sure that heartache would follow either because of a breakup, or just plain missing him?

Someone touched her shoulder and she jumped again. This time, her gaze moved from the painting of Davyn to the real deal. He glanced at her with his head slightly tilted, his dark blue eyes glinting like sapphires in the light of dusk. Her stomach jumped into her throat, being replaced with a myriad of butterflies. There was something different about him.

"You okay? You seem a bit jumpy."

His words hardly registered as she fought to identify the change in him. And then, she realized it. The tension in his posture was gone and he looked more relaxed, more at peace than she'd ever seen him. All thoughts of time and school flew out of her head as the mad desire to paint overtook her.

"Stay right there." She pulled back and grabbed a brush.

"What are you doing?" he sounded amused and the trace of a smile lifted the corner of his lips.

"Just give me a moment, because I have to..." She couldn't put it into words.

Her fingers clasped a piece of charcoal and she began drawing a quick sketch. It was in different angles, with a different light and a much more different expression. He wasn't dark, brooding, and mysterious anymore. This time, he was light, he was...

Her hands worked as she smoothed the edges, her mind painting ahead, choosing colors. "It's only going to take a minute," she said under her breath.

"Are you painting me again?"

"Not again. It's different, it's... Just a few moments."

He didn't move and she took it as a good sign as she continued forming the picture, adding a bit of color. Yes, she could do this later, but she wanted to capture the essence of now. The ease in his posture, the light behind his eyes, the way his smile was truly amused and not sarcastic. Not a smirk. A true smile. Happiness. This time, he was happiness. And there had to be a way to put that on paper, immortalize it for later.

Stroke after stroke, the portrait came to life. It was still nothing but a sketch, but the essence was there, preserved, saved for later when she'd have the time to go beyond a simple outline. It was different. So different from her first attempt, from what she usually did.

She pulled back to admire her progress. It made her shudder. With time and dedication, it could become her best work ever. She glanced over her shoulder and, to her shock, saw that Davyn had grabbed a chair and straddled it, resting his elbows on its back.

"When did you get that chair?"

"Sorry, it was a lot more comfortable. Your minute turned into an hour."

"What?" she glanced from him to the painting. Yeah, she couldn't have achieved that in mere minutes. She'd lost track of time again. "Why didn't you say something?"

"And miss watching you lose yourself in your work? This was one of the most fascinating things I've ever seen."

Heat crept to her cheeks and she wiped away at the paint on her cheeks. He reached out his hand and she took it, letting him pull her closer. When he turned on the chair and pulled her into his lap, she let him.

"Why am I so fascinating to you?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I'm dirty."

"No, I'm dirty. You're just covered in paint." As if to prove his point, he undid her suspenders and let them drop, then slid his hands under her flimsy t-shirt. "But you didn't answer me."

"I'd say it's because I'm obviously in love with you, but I found you fascinating even before that."

He just hummed in response, nuzzling her neck with his nose. The warmth of his breath had her shivering. "You're the one who's fascinating. Especially when you work. So much dedication and concentration. I was jealous at some point."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you, or--" Her words died in her throat as his hands slipped higher, tickling her skin, his fingers playing with the front clasp of her bra.

"This is another thing I find fascinating about you," he whispered. "How you let me do this, get away with it."

"You know, you always talk as if you're stealing something."

"Aren't I though?" He started trailing kisses down her neck. "Your first kiss, your first love." His hands moved further up, taking her t-shirt along. "And I'm about to take much more."

Air seemed to be gone from the world and all that was left was fire. She couldn't think, not when he was touching her like that, not when the heat of his body was driving any coherent thought from her mind. In a matter of seconds, her hands started roaming as well, sinking under his t-shirt, touching his skin. How could it be so soft and yet so powerful all at once?

He unclasped her bra, his lips tracing the newly exposed skin and she couldn't keep in a whimper of both surprise and pleasure. It was new and wonderful at the same time. She held on to his shoulders, closing her eyes and knocking her head back. He groaned into her skin.

"What are you doing to me?"

"Me?" She could barely focus.

"You're supposed to be the cerebral one, keep me in check. Instead you're just..." He planted more kisses on her skin as he seemed to be thinking of an appropriate word. "Enabling me."

"Why is it always about you? Am I not participating in it?"

Her words made him raise his head to look at her. She immediately regretted interrupting him.

"Millie, we're in public. Anyone could walk in."

A metaphorical bucket of water dropped over her and doused some of the infatuation. He was right. Max had just left. If he came back and saw her like this...

She pulled her t-shirt down to cover herself. He was right. She was out of her mind.

Davyn laughed. "Hold on." And he reached out under her t-shirt again, but to clasp her bra again. Then he just watched her with a fond smile.

It sent goosebumps up her arms. She didn't think anyone had ever looked at her like that before and it felt almost as good as what they'd been doing.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry?"

"For thinking it's all about me. You're a big part of this. You have choices. What you don't have is self-control." He laughed again as she nudged him.

"Seriously, Davyn. You're not corrupting me. I'm a big girl."

"That you are, darling." He gave her a quick squeeze, then stood, holding her up as if she weighed nothing. "But you're wrong about me not corrupting you. Let me show you something."

♣️♣️♣️

He's definitely corrupting her. And there's such a mess inside his head. Inside hers. But oh, to be young and in love...

And they actually get to do that for a while. They took the plunge. And maybe it will work for them. At least until trouble comes calling again. Davyn might be right. Whatever his father had prepared him for might be coming wither way. And then there's Harkin. Hope you haven't forgotten about him.

Thanks so much for you support and don't forget to leave a vote or comment!