What use is it to you--

What's on my mind

If it ain't coming out

We're not going anywhere

So why can't I just tell you that I care ?

27 - Grief

The draught to Sinclair Mansion was therapeutic. For a little while, I didn't think of anything. It was just me, the wind on my face, the familiar trail. It felt like... coming home.

Amyr stood near the edge of the hole, staring up at the willow tree. It was in full blossom, red all over, its thin graceful branches spread down as if weeping. In all its ancient magnificence, I could only see what-might-have-beens.

If Rosario and Dad were alive. If I wasn't dying. If the world wasn't ending. If Vincent loved me.

Tons of ifs. The possibilities were endless.

"Where've you been, Noob?" Amyr smiled, waving a hand in front of my face.

I blinked twice. "The motel."

Shaking his head, he looked me in the eyes, laughing. "I mean, where have you been? Looked like you left earth for a second there."

I brushed past him, sneering. "Where else would I go?"

For once in a long time, the permanent grin on his face disappeared. "Are you gunna be okay?"

"Yeah." The word sounded forced, but I successfully managed a smile. "Where's Vincent?"

"In the Archives." He seemed a little less enthusiastic than normal. "I guess I'll leave you guys to it, then."

I shrugged.

Again, he took a good look at the willow tree, his brown eyes wistful. For a few seconds, he stood there, watching something that was invisible to me. He was smiling to himself as he left.

"Where have you been?" I murmured.

In made my heart sink to see the house in utter disrepair. After all, I had considered it my home.

Old memories ran to and fro the hallways, disappearing before I could even start to chase them. The silence was agonizing. And as I found the stone door of the Archives open, I was almost scared to go in.

With barely a sound, I entered.

Before I could take another step, something knocked my feet from under me. I hit the floor. When I tried to get up, I saw three pointed blades aimed at my face. It was Vincent's trident.

"Oh, it's just you," Vincent breathed out, backing away, the trident faltering into flames that died out in an instant. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"You almost killed me!"

"Almost," he chided.

When I didn't honor that snide answer with a reply, he reached out and offered his hand. I took it and got up. As I was patting the dirt off my clothes, he kept his hand in the same position, palm open.

"What?" I blurted out.

For the third time, he offered his hand. As if having a mind of its own, my hand moved to his, a bit hesitant.

"The details," he muttered.

"O-of course."

My face just developed a fever. All of me wanted to fly out of the room. Of all the times to get fatally embarrassed, it had to be on the dawn of the apocalypse.

I tried to look at the room, the dusty shelves, the scrolls unfurled on the study table; anywhere except him as he unfolded the little piece of paper from Alex. All the same, I watch his brows furrow while he was reading the note. It looked like he might be shouting his top ten favorite curses in his head.

"I'll... just," he stuttered when he saw me looking. "I'll look for the scroll at the back. Just wait for me, okay?"

"Don't I always?" I muttered to myself as he started to the shelves.

He glanced back at me. "You always what?"

"Nothing," I lied, taking a seat behind the study table. "Do you mind if I look around?"

His face dimmed. "Anything specific? We have a small contemporary selection somewhere here... I think."

"Nope. Not really."

He nodded and went back to work.

As soon as he was out of sight, I hurried to the shelves and started browsing the scrolls. Luckily, I found a ladder and began my work.

To my dismay, there was no specific pattern to which the they were arranged. I remembered Vincent calling the scrolls out loud before, but I didn't want him to know what I was up to.

I kept craning my neck to see where Vincent might be. The Archive was too big for hide and go seek, though.

An hour later and my calves and hips were already starting to kill me.

"The scrolls are outdated, Aramis." Vincent emerged from behind the next shelf.

"Did you find it?"

He brushed my question off. "There haven't been any new Lists since the war."

It was like he had read my mind. I didn't come here to deliver a message. I came to find out if my father was supposed to die last night. Because if he wasn't, then, his death was my fault.

Wordlessly, I climbed down the ladder and sat on the lowest step, head down, elbows resting on my thighs.

"Come on, Aramis," he pleaded. "There's no point. Even if you find your dad's name on the List, it won't bring him back."

"I know," I choked out, keeping my voice low to prevent it from cracking. "But... for seven years, I left him alone. I didn't even say goodbye. When he needed me the most, I couldn't do a thing!"

"It's not your fault."

"But it is!" I got to my feet and faced him, mist making my view of him hazy. "I shouldn't have ran away like a total brat. I shouldn't have left Cairo. This is the part where you get mad at me!"

Vincent didn't answer. He just stood there, eyes downcast.

Angrily, I walked to him and shoved him by the shoulder.

"Say something!" I cried.

"I'm sorry," he said, avoiding my gaze. "I know how much it hurts... You know I do. But what I'm most sorry for is seeing that I couldn't do anything to make it better for you."

I bit my lip, but the tears came anyway. My feet started stepping on their own, forward and forward, to him. Before I knew it, my arms had wrapped themselves around his waist. And he stayed frozen, unmoving as a statue.

"Two minutes," I sobbed into his shirt. "For two whole minutes, can we just forget that you're my master and I'm your familiar?"

He didn't say a word, but I felt his arm loop over the back of my head. The deep rise and fall of his chest against my cheek felt so comforting that I didn't want for those two minutes to end.

All the hurt, all the guilt was still there. It didn't go away. Yet, I wasn't scared to feel. With him by my side, I was braver.

"I can't," he said through his teeth. "I can't do this anymore."

I pulled away from him, feeling lost and mortified. My two minutes was over, but to me, it was more than enough.

"Sorry."

"No!" He held me by the shoulders, closing his eyes in frustration.

"Then, what?"

"I mean, I can't do this anymore." As he opened his eyes, he lowered them to meet mine. "I know it's wrong but... I can't stop myself from caring more than I should. You're so close, yet, I couldn't even hold you. Whenever you're in trouble, you always run to someone else for help when you should've been running to me! I can't. Stand. It... I can't keep pretending anymore, A."

His presence, the intensity in his eyes made me feel like I was shrinking, melting. But still, I couldn't look away. I opened my mouth, but my voice seemed to have left me. My mind couldn't process everything fast enough.

Hopeful, he smiled. Really smiled.

He was saying something, too. But I think I had also turned deaf because I couldn't hear anything besides the pounding in my chest.

"A?! Are you even listening to me?"

"Y-yeah... I'm uh..."

His eyes narrowed into a fierce glare.

Abruptly, he pulled me, his lips crashing hard against mine. The trapdoor under my feet had collapsed, as did the walls that surrounded us. It was Oblivion. All I knew was his arms feverishly gathering me against his chest, both urgent and tender at the same time, as though I were a piece that would complete his broken soul. His lips were punishing, forcing me to yield as his warmth sent shivers to every fiber of my being.

I hated that he had this power over me. Yet, I let the storm of emotions awaken and hit my defenses until all had crumbled. Slowly, the storm mellowed into rain. And I kissed him back like it was the only right thing in a world full of wrongs.

He rested his forehead against mine to catch his breath.

"N-no SirenSoul this time?" I sighed.

He began laughing that quiet laugh that made the room seem a little brighter. "D'you wanna double-check?"

Pressing down the wrinkles on his shirt, I pressed my lips together. "W-what were you saying again?"

He cocked his head back, groaning. Then, he cupped my face with his hands, forcing me to look back at him.

"I was saying... I--" he exhaled sharply. "I'm going to be brave like you."

To be continued...