89.
chapter eighty-nine:
home, forevermore.

"Please give me one final chance, son." 

The silence was palpable, time frozen in place. I wanted to inch away, then take a huge step behind, and finally just turn on my heel and scramble for life, but the said time had me rooted to the ground as well, only allowing me to rock back and forth on my soles. 

"Will you?" Mum walked over, a soft smile gracing her lips as she looked down at me. "Ash, I want you to give me a second chance too. I can't give that ruthless man Giovanni as an excuse for not having paid you attention, and I'm ready to start over on a fresh page. Just like how we were before you turned ten." 

I took in a shaky breath and regarded the two of them. They mirrored each other's expressions. While I was a mirror of them. 

"A-another chance?" I cracked, feeling dizzy. They exchanged a look before speaking in unison. 

"Yes." 

"H-how?" 

He hesitated before opening his arms wide and encouraging me with a grin. Mum joined at his side and extended her free hand toward me. The very sight was enough to sting my eyes. My cheeks dampened, and the next thing I felt was warmth, of immense and ethereal quality. It felt safe, reassuring, and nostalgic in their arms. 

It was like seeing the sun after sleeping out in the wild for an entire night. Like feeling the sunshine tingle your skin after a particularly harsh snowstorm. 

I choked back sobs when Mum said in an undertone, "We'll stay like this forevermore, honey." 

Was this how home felt like?

And then, "You bet, and that's a promise," Dad whispered. "Are you okay with it?" 

Had I been homesick all along?

The answer was at the tip of my tongue. No matter how much I thrashed at the very words, the very emotions, the world turned cold in contrast to what I was actually feeling when I uttered that three-letter word, sealing an unspoken agreement between the three of us. "Yes." 

I had adored her for as long as I could tell the difference between happiness and bliss. I had cherished every bit of her, from the pinks of the sunrise to the peaches of the sunset. I had passed every heartbeat of my life longing, yearning, and aching for a grail of her. And I had finally found out how the feeling was mutual. 

Only to see the relationship we had built over the years, from miles apart, crumbling like a castle under siege. 

We had returned home to see the lights on everywhere but in my room. In the very same room where we had been stargazing, leaning against each other just a night ago, she now lay under the covers as nothing but a heap of soft sobs and ragged breaths. 

My heart squirmed in my chest, and I tried to voice an apology. "Serena..." Even if it came out as something more than a whisper, she made no movement, not even a flinch. "I'm sorry... I truly am..." 

The honey-blonde showed no indication of having heard me, except for how she immediately fell silent, her cries ceasing within a second. 

After a long time coming, I had felt the sun on my skin, cradling me between two arms—one strong, the other soft. That had been a reassuring thought. 

But now.

Now the rest of the world had blurred and turned gray within not even half a day. What kind of human am I? I thought as I clambered into my bunk, mad at myself for giving in to anger once again, for hurting the sunshine of my life for the third time. Would she even look my way tomorrow? 

Exhaustion rolled up in waves as I hit my pillow. The only thing I felt was the gravity of the entire ordeal I had once again managed to loop myself into before falling into a dreamless sleep. 

I woke up to absolute silence, one that left an unsettling taste behind. Checking my phone for any message from her only ended up in a cloud of guilt. 

Quickly swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I pushed myself from the mattress and landed with a hard thud. When it did not elicit the expected reaction, I made to leave the room, but a piece of paper slipped underneath the door caught my eye. 

Scribbled down on it in slightly readable penmanship was Dad's writing. 

Good morning, son. 
Your mother and I are leaving the household to you and Serena. Make it up to her quick, and remember what I told you yesterday on the walk home. :) 

P.S. For some reason, my sweet Delia thinks you guys are in wove—spelling intended. :l

I didn't know whether to classify the smiling emojis as suspicious, given how they were perceived that way in my generation, or a simple smile with no latent meaning, given his. 

Either way, I clutched the note closer to my chest and set off downstairs. The same eerie silence greeted me, and I felt dread settle in my stomach the minute I spotted her, bags packed and stacked onto a suitcase. With as cheery a tone as I could muster, I approached her. "Morning, Serena!" 

The honey-blonde girl didn't turn, nor did she inch away when I wrapped an arm around her waist. It is looking positive. "Good morning." Pretty positive, maybe an eighty on a scale of one hundred. "Excuse me." 

My optimism metric collapsed, along with my heart, the minute she struggled out of my grasp quite successfully and zipped one last bag. She only managed to cut my heartstrings when we spoke in unison. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I'm leaving." 

"What?" I asked, incredulous, but not surprised enough. The options she had were narrowed down the evening before, and it had all been Dad's efforts: leave the place or accept my apology. Of course, she wouldn't forgive me. Not for the third time. "B-but where?" 

Serena turned around sharply, her stunning blue eyes narrowing to look more like a lake than the vast oceans they had always been. "It's none of your business." 

If it were possible, my heart dropped even further, preparing itself to dive six feet under. "Am I not your boyfriend?" 

She paused, and in that brief moment, I noticed a flicker of reluctance flash in her expressive eyes. But it was gone before I could say her name again. "You were, Ash, you were—"