Chapter Forty-Four

"What are you doing here?" I ask before the door has even had a chance to close. When it finally does settle with a small click, I approach him with more caution and reservation than needed. Once again, my words sound accusatory and I can't help but think that maybe if I just shut up and stop reacting, then words might flow out of my head more sensitively.

Garth, still carried by the same momentum that had pulled him into the room, crashes neatly onto the bed. Feet planted steady, he looks up at me with pleading eyes.

"I needed to see you," he says, his words feeling like he is walking on hot coals. There's a break that happens within his tone, but I pretend not to hear it. "I needed to see you when the moon wasn't something we needed to think about."

"Why?"

Garth simply shrugs his shoulders. There's an infinite of thoughts swimming behind those eyes, and I just wish he would pull one from the surface and tell me what he's thinking.

Is he scared about running? Is he having second thoughts about me as a person? Have I put too much pressure on him to make a decision this life-altering?

Whatever it is, I just wish he could tell me.

The floor utters a groan as I cross the room to sit on the bed next to him. Neither of us utter a word for a moment, instead letting the sound of our breaths fill the air. His are naturally calm and stoic, if not a little quick with the exhale. It feels like he's putting on a show, trying to show the world that he's fine when the truth is that he's the farthest thing from fine. But he doesn't need to put on a show for me—I'd accept him even in his darkest moments, if only he could do me the privilege of opening up.

Every time it feels like I'm getting somewhere with him, he pulls back. I get that he doesn't trust people, and that it's his natural predisposition to think that everyone is out to get him. But if he can't trust me, then who can he trust.

"God, I hope Glory didn't break out the baby pictures," I say with absolute sincerity, just trying to break the ice again.

And just like that, Garth can't even help himself. He bursts into a tight laughter that nearly sends him doubling over, but not quite. His eyes turn to face mines and for a moment I can feel everything melt off of him. It's that extreme baggage that he's been dealing with. Sooner or later he'll have to pick it up again, but for now he's let it rest at the foot of my bed.

"She wouldn't do that," Garth answers confidently. "Would she?"

"She would," I reply, wincing slightly. "The first time I brought Sabrina home, she did her the honor of rolling through every single one of my baby pictures, probably just to get a rise out of me."

"That's evil."

"No, that's not evil, that's just Glory."

A nod crosses him for a moment. "She seems nice."

"Yeah, she is," I reply back with a half-smile.

Another moment passes. "Why did you need to see me right now?" I ask. "Is there something wrong?"

Again, Garth shrugs. "No there's nothing wrong."

My face grows hot as I frown at him slightly. "Then what is it? I know you didn't come here just to see me. We could have waited till night-time."

"You remember that day when you tried to drive me home and I said no?" he replied back to me, low and serious. "That day I told you to leave me alone?"

How could I even forget? It had been a somewhat turning point in our own relationship. After that day, Garth had gone weeks without talking to me, and the next time I did see him his face was all bashed and bruised. I tried to remember anything about that day that would have made sense but couldn't pull anything to the light.

"Sometimes I feel like you're only with me in the hours that you need someone to talk too," he says. "I wanted to see you because I wanted to know if you were serious about what you said. I wanted to see if you meant anything."

He places hands on my shoulders and I just about shudder. "Cards on the table. How serious are you about any of this?"

My throat tightens and constricts. Inside my lungs are burning, trying to keep a tempered breathing pace. The thoughts in my mind scurry from place to place, never really sticking down for too long. It's utter chaos in my body and I want it all to stop. Garth puts this passion in me that I've long since forgotten. Once upon a time, Sabrina had given me that passion but it had since dwindled out. How could I be sure that this would not be the same?

In any case, there was only one thought that came through loud and clear.

Putting my own hand on top of one of his, I stared at him for a few moments. "I love you Garth Vega." The words tumbled out haphazardly, but that didn't make them any less real. That didn't make how I felt any less real.

Garth swallows hard as his hand tightens around my shoulder. I can tell he wants to look away but he chooses not too.

"You don't mean that."

"I do mean that."

"Saying that just makes things more complicated. It opens up so many unknowns and I'm not sure how to deal with..." He trails off.

"Deal with what Garth?" I ask.

Like the scared little boy that he can be sometimes, he shrugs his shoulders, adamant that his response will not be worth anything. This is what kills me most of all. Spend your whole life believing that you're dirt and eventually you'll start to believe it. To most people, Garth was nothing. But to some people, he was more than that.

The words were there in him somewhere, but it was like he was trying to feel them out. This couldn't have been easy for him.

"You don't need to say it back right now," I say. "Just... let me know if I'm holding out hope for something that's never going to happen, okay?"

I leaned across and pressed our foreheads together. The touch of that alone was enough to send those sparks dancing through me. I wanted to do so much more in that moment but the fact that Garth wasn't really in the best headspace and that my family was downstairs, made me reconsider this.

"If you still want to get away from this place, then we'll go." Up to this point, I'd been wondering to myself if I actually meant the words that I'd said under those streetlights. But now I knew for certain that this was something I wanted to do. I wanted to run away with Garth Vega and just make him forget about everything that was wrong in his life. "We'll drive so fucking far away that no one will be able to find us."

"I want that more than anything Xavier," he says his voice barely rising above a whisper. "Fuck, I've never wanted anything more in my life."

His face still looked broken; a mosaic art piece in need of repair. The war in his head would rage on regardless, but if I could make him have even just a little more confidence in his own self-worth, then I'd have done something worthwhile.

"I want you to want me, just as might as I want you," I say, brushing my lips against his softly.

My mind might not have all the answers, and I might be as clueless as to what's supposed to happen next, but in that moment there's a clarity. Both of us are running for two different reasons; he's running because he's always dreamed of finding some peace of mind through escapism, and I'm finding myself running because I don't want to be left in his dust. If he were to be gone tomorrow, I'm not sure what I would do. I'd lose everything—my confidante, my best friend, and the only person who really, truly knows me.

"In a week, I want you to meet me at the Think Tank," he says, pulling back from me with a shy hesitance that I cannot help but be attracted to. "We leave at the crack of midnight under the stars."

I can tell he's nervous. There's a sense that I can hear his teeth rattling together inside his skull. His knuckles are pale through grabbing the fabric of his jeans. He can barely look at me, but when he does come up to meet my eyes, he seems calmer. It's like he's taken in all the oxygen in the world. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"We should probably get back downstairs before anyone thinks we're banging up here."

The entire sentence is a punch to the gut that knocks the breath out of me temporarily. Even when I try to meet his gaze, I realize he's crossed the room to the door. Slowly, he holds his hand out to mine, half-expectant for me to take it.

And I do. Because this is supposed to be a natural thing we do; we say secrets in the dark, and never let go in the morning.