Millie decided that she had to take things as they came. So, over the next two weeks, she pushed the thought of her impending departure out of her mind and focused on what really mattered. Spending her time with Davyn.

With school loosening up, she didn't even bother to pretend that she wasn't completely enthralled by something else. Diana and Bianca already knew, so they never questioned that she didn't come to the dorm room at night, understanding her need to be with Davyn while she still could.

The days were a lavender haze, and the nights were burning flames. He'd been right. There was so much to learn. And with every day, little things changed.

First, it was the food in the refrigerator, then the toothbrush ready for her in the bathroom. Next, he put more cabinets above the island in the kitchen to separate the space they had and create the illusion of privacy.

After a week, there was the easel and the paints. She couldn't believe he'd thought to turn their tiny studio into a place where she could create art. At that moment, she was convinced he'd bring a piano there if he could fit it inside.

Davyn truly loved her. She could see it in every gesture, in the way he smiled as they lay in bed, in his touch and his kisses. In the way he taught her everything about making love. His patience, his tenderness... He was so different from the man he showed the outside world. He only showed who he really was to her. And that meant more than anything.

She knew there was still a part of him he hid from her. It made him thoughtful and brooding at times before he snapped out of it and smiled again. It gave him nightmares and caused his migraines. But as the nights went on, she was happy that it seemed to be less frequent.

As they spent prom night together in bed, she found herself watching him. He'd fallen into one of his contemplative states, glancing out the window into the darkness. The shadows the light of the candles threw on his face made him look both terrifying and mesmerizing.

He'd been right, as usual. She'd much rather spend the night with him than go to school and face a crowd she felt nothing for.

"Do you regret not going to prom?"

"Hmm?" It took him a moment to turn from the window to her. The wince was very subtle, but she caught it.

"Is it your head again?"

"No, I'm fine." He leaned on one elbow, angling his body towards her, a small smile on his face.

"Do you have migraines often?" she asked.

He hesitated for a few moments and she sensed he felt inclined to lie. But with a heavy sigh, he seemed to decide against it.

"I didn't use to have them before everything. Then a lot. And now... Well, you seem to be good at keeping them away."

She smiled, a pleasant warmth settling in her chest. He didn't lie. She really did make him feel better, and that mattered more than anything.

"I know how to cure your migraines."

He grinned, that mischievous glint in his eyes that brought butterflies to her stomach. "Oh? Do tell."

Trying to keep a straight face, she pulled his t-shirt over her head. Before the material cleared her eyes, he pinned her hands above her head and rolled on top of her.

"And you were asking silly questions like if I regret not going to prom." He kissed her neck, sending a pleasant current down her spine. "I couldn't have done this at prom. Or this..." He trailed kisses down her shoulder.

She wrapped her arms around him and held him against her, burying her face in his hair. He tightened his hold around her, and for a moment, they just lay in each other's arms.

It meant the world to her that they could do that.

No matter what happened, they would be fine.

♣️

The end of the school year rushed towards Davyn, turning his world upside down. One moment, he was taking care of the studio, making it more comfortable for them, the next, he was watching Millie pack her things.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you there?" he asked.

She shook her head, folding one of her overalls and placing it inside her suitcase. "It's hard enough as it is. Plus, we'd have to take Max."

"I don't mind."

"I do." She sighed and straightened, stretching to even out her back. "You and Max aren't exactly friends."

He huffed. "We're fine." Or at least they were before he decided to bed his twin sister.

"I don't think I could keep my hands off you, and Max definitely doesn't need to see that."

That made him smile, and he dropped it. "Not even to the bus station?"

"Again, we'll be fine. I'm meeting him in school, and then we'll be on our way." Her eyes drifted to the easel in the corner where she'd started to paint the studio. "Don't mess with my painting."

"What? Afraid I'll finish it for you?"

"Don't be mean."

"I'm just saying... You never really finish them."

"I will at some point."

"Procrastinator."

"When's the last time you finished a piece of art?"

He drummed his fingers on his chin. "Twenty minutes ago?"

She blushed furiously but continued packing, throwing the last of her things in. Once she clasped the suitcase shut, she raised her eyes to him. They were filled with both sadness and panic.

"I'm going to miss you, darling. Don't be afraid. I'll be right here when you get back."

"Yes, I know. You'll just not be in school anymore." Her demeanor shrunk the tiniest bit as if the thought was frightening.

He narrowed his eyes. "What's up?"

"Nothing. The thought of you no longer being in school feels weird. But it's not like you'll always be there. Not like..." Her voice caught in her throat.

He gritted his teeth because he could see the problem clearly. Harkin still hadn't graduated, and he wouldn't be around to keep him in check. To protect her.

He clenched his fists. He did have a solution, one he'd tried not to think about. He couldn't throw himself into that just for her. He couldn't.

"Don't worry about that asshole," he still said. "I'll make sure he doesn't bother you." One way or another.

She opened her mouth, and he was sure she wanted to ask how he would do that, how he knew exactly what she was talking about, but she closed it again and gave him a curt nod. She still looked nervous about something, though. He tilted his head just as she sighed, reached out into the top pocket of the overalls she had on, and pulled out a folded paper.

"Write to me?"

He took the paper and glanced at it. "Write to you?"

"Yes. You know... Letters?"

"Is this a romance thing you want to try out?"

"I know I'll miss you, and we don't exactly have a phone."

"Who doesn't have a phone?"

"You don't." And she gestured around the studio.

She had a point. He hadn't bothered with a phone because there was no one who would want to call him. And it was possible for other people not to have one, too. Though, letters...

"So, will you?"

The hopeful look in her eyes only left room for one answer. "Of course."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed her back, and the more it lasted, the harder it was to let her go. But he had to. They had no time for anything else. He'd already sidetracked her from her luggage twice before.

This time, when she pulled back, he let her go. He also respected her choice of going off without him because she had to. It was important for her to go home, unwind, stay with her mother. And even if he thought it wouldn't be a big deal, the moment she left the studio with a final smile and wave of her hand, the place felt cold and empty.

For a few seconds, he watched the closed door. Then he realized he had no idea what to do with himself.

"Fucking hell," he mumbled and dropped on the bed.

He'd never slept in it without her. A big part of him thought about going home and staying there. He hadn't seen Freider and Ron in weeks. But it would feel like a step back. He'd bought the place to stay there for good, not just to have sex with Millie.

He really needed to find something to do. A project. His mind whirled, moving past his need for Millie, and focused on the long list of issues he'd pushed back. Yes, there was loads to do, but for that, he needed resources he didn't have. So he got off his ass, headed for his car, and drove home.

The place was fortunately dark and silent as he stepped inside. The house looked even dustier, as if Fredier had abandoned housekeeping completely. Well, it had been his dumbass decision to fire the help, so he should live with it.

Davyn headed up the stairs to his bedroom. It too looked neglected, abandoned by the person who gave it life. He pulled out a couple of suitcases from the hallway closet and a few cardboard boxes and got to work gathering his things. It didn't last long, so in half and hour, he was back down stairs, his shit by the door. Next, he headed for his father's home office and took out all the documents he found there related to his business together with the keys to his office.

When he stepped back into the living room, he grabbed the yellow pages, too. He should also get a phone.

"What are you doing?"

Ron's voice made him jump. Davyn looked up towards the landing. His little brother stood leaning over the banister, looking scrawnier than ever.

"Hey, Ron."

"Where have you been?" Ron demanded, his fingers curling around the railing.

A million answers ran through Davyn's mind, each with its own amount of guilt, but on the outside, he just shrugged. "Felt the need to get out for a while."

"Oh, you did, didn't you?"

"How was your end of the school year?"

"Stop acting like you care!"

"You know I don't do small talk. If I asked, it's because I want to know."

"Who are you talking to?" Freider decided to make his grand entrance, stopping next to Ron. "Oh. You're back."

Whereas Ron brought guilt to Davyn, Freider was just mild annoyance. He hadn't missed his older brother at all. His life had been so much better without him.

"You don't have to sound so disappointed." Davyn dropped the Yellow Pages in one of the boxes. "I'm moving out."

"Finally," Freider mumbled at the same time as Ron screamed, "What?"

Davyn shrugged again. "See, Ron? He doesn't want me around."

"What about what I want?"

The question had Davyn flinching inward. "I'll still see you."

"Oh, like you have over the past two weeks?"

Ron made an excellent point, but Davyn was not about to admit his neglect. So instead, he turned to Freider.

"Did he finish school well?"

"Not exactly, but he wasn't held back either."

"I'm standing right here!"

"Ron, you need space," Davyn said. "To think about what you want and the way to achieve it."

"Are you shitting me?" Ron burst out.

"Language, brat," Freider snapped, but it was more like an afterthought, his attention on Davyn. "He will be thinking long and hard. I signed him up for a special camp. Sort of rehab. So he'll be there for the summer."

"You did what?" Ron turned to face Freider and Davyn was sure he'd smack him.

Freider completely ignored him. "I thought about what you said, and now that he's out of school, this should be safe for him to do."

"This was your idea?"

Davyn was a little taken aback that Freider had actually listened to him. It did sound like a good idea. A camp filled with kids like him did seem safer than actual rehab, and maybe Ron could make some better friends.

"It's not a bad idea," he said.

Freider huffed. "Of course you'd say that since it was your idea."

"Ron, this is not punishment, it's to help you."

"Help me?" Ron let out a harsh laugh. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know that drugs are not the solution."

"How do you know that, did you try them?"

Davyn took in a deep breath, trying his best to not lash out at his baby brother. "I don't have to. Everyone with half a brain knows drugs are bad."

"I don't care! Maybe that's the point. Did you ever think of that, genius? Maybe I don't want to get better. Maybe I just want this to be over!"

Freider rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go again."

Davyn frowned and took a step closer. There was something about Ron's posture that made him think this was far beyond teenage rebellion.

"Ron, you're thirteen. You have your whole life ahead of you."

"If it's like this, I don't want it!"

"Then maybe I should just let you go out and die in a ditch," Freider mumbled.

"Freider, shut up!" Davyn took another step towards the staircase. "It won't all be like this. That's what I'm trying to tell you. This is just a small part of it. But it's up to you to make the rest of it better."

Ron squinted at him, a disgusted snarl on his face. "You did it, didn't you? You left and got over it. You're above this now, aren't you?"

He had no idea how to answer that. Millie had healed a big part of him, but being here was opening his old wounds back up.

No, I don't need this. This is toxic.

What was the point of bathing in this cesspool? He was young, too. He didn't have to drive himself into the ground.

Freider looked interested, too, watching Davyn with a curious gaze. How could nothing change for them when everything had for him?

"We can't stay this way. The whole point is to move on," he said.

"Easy for you to say without a brat weighing you down," Freider said.

"I'm going to stick around and help out with Ron."

"Like you have for the past two weeks?"

Anger sipped through the guilt. They had absolutely no right to make him feel like shit for being happy. Moving out was the best thing he could do for himself. And he didn't owe Freider or Ron anything.

"At least I went out there and fixed part of my shit. Enough to tell you two to stop wailing and moaning and do something to feel better."

Ron started laughing, but it was a twisted, cruel sound. "That's what I've been doing."

"Not drugs, Ron!'

"You wanna take him with you then and teach him some healthy coping habits?" Freider asked.

For a moment, Davyn was tempted, but it would imply a lot. He didn't have enough room in the studio, and once Millie would be back, he really didn't want Ron there. The best solution would be for Ron to be on his own, but he was really much too young for that and obviously unable to look after himself. As mean and grouchy as he was, Freider was the best solution at the moment.

"I'll help him move out when the time comes, but living with me at the moment sounds like a bad idea."

"Of course you don't want me," Ron said, disgust coating his voice.

It was something in his tone that made Davyn snap. "You're not my kid, Ron. You're my brother. And as much as I love you and want to help you, you're not my responsibility!"

"You're just a selfish asshole!"

Davyn was so done. In just ten minutes, he'd gone back to feeling as miserable as he had after his father died. He didn't need this, so he turned away and picked up one of the boxes.

"I agree, send him to rehab camp. Maybe they'll knock some sense into his head." And he headed for the front door.

Ron's laugh rang in his ears. "As if! You need to want to get clean. I don't. The moment I get back, it will be just too easy to get my hands on drugs again."

Davyn froze in the threshold, his entire body tensing painfully. Ron had a point, and he was stubborn enough to kill himself just to spite him and Freider. And as things were, it would be just too easy for him to go forward with his plans. Unless...

"That's what you think," he muttered and walked out.

He had the power to stop this once and for all. And while he'd been hesitant before, it became crystal clear what he had to do.

It was about time he paid Nicholas Harkin a visit.

♣️♣️♣️

Well, some people are definitely not making progress, and Ron definitely doesn't want to get better. His attitude and Millie's fears have finally pushed Davyn towards something he was trying to avoid. So... Let's see how that goes.

I hope you're still enjoying the story! Don't forget to vote and comment!