Beauty in the Ashes

“That’s not true,” I whispered.

“Isn’t it?” He countered. “I’ve let it rule every facet of my life—changing all the plans I had for my life because I couldn’t deal. I’m a weak and useless excuse for a human being.”

“You’re wrong, Caelan. So, so wrong. You’re none of the things you think you are. Is the stuff you do bad? Yeah, it is. But the damage is reversible if you choose to fix yourself.”

His lashes lowered to flutter against the high planes of his cheekbones. “I’m scared to make the decision to get help. This is all I’ve known for so long. I don’t think I can function as a normal person. I’ve forgotten what it’s like not to have the need to get high, or drunk to dull the pain, or to not be angry.” His hands fisted. “There’s so much anger inside me, Sutton,” he continued, “that I can’t feel much else. It runs through my veins all the time. I’m angry with the person who killed them. I’m angry with my grandparent’s for abandoning me when I needed them. I’m angry with Kyle for caring too much. I’m angry with myself for letting it go this far. I’m angry at you because you make me care,” his voice cracked. “And worst of all,” tears shimmered in his eyes, waiting to spill over, “I’m angry at them for leaving me. How wrong is that? They didn’t ask to die, and I’m mad at them for it anyway.”

“I think that’s a perfectly normal reaction,” I commented.

“Is it?” An elegant brow arched as he looked at me. “It seems pretty fucked up to me.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s messed up to harbor anger like that towards them, but I don’t think there’s something wrong with you because of it. I’m angry at my parents for not believing me, and angry that they were too blind to see what was happening when I was a child. But really, is it their fault? No. They chose to see what they wanted and believe who they wanted, and I could have gone to them at any time…maybe if I’d still been a child they would’ve handled things differently. I’ll never know now.”

He let a pent up breath whizz past his lips. “I’d give anything to have one more day with them. Just one. To tell them I loved them and I’m sorry that I wasn’t a better son and brother. I have so many regrets and there’s no magical do over button for life so I’m stuck with them.”

With a slight chuckle, he added, “You know, they say to appreciate the little things in life. That is so fucking true. I miss all the small things from my old life. The sound of my mom and dad laughing as they made breakfast. Cayla singing in the shower. Our ‘forced’ family dinners where we each had to say two truths and a lie about our day, then guess which was the lie. I hated it all at the time, and now it’s what I hold closest to my heart.” Looking at me, he breathed out deeply. “I don’t drink or do drugs to forget them, I do it to numb the pain remembering causes, because I never want to pretend that they didn’t exist. If I don’t remember, who will?”

“Oh, Caelan,” I sobbed and finally gave in to the temptation to wrap my arms around him. He held me close, his fingers entangling in the strands of my hair as my face found the crook of his neck. I scooted my body as close to him as possible, wishing I could burrow inside him and drive away the darkness that plagued him. I didn’t want him to have to hurt and suffer any longer. I knew the pain he felt was far worse than mine, and that was saying something. I knew how easy it was to dwell on things you couldn’t change, how it ate you alive. It was a horrible existence and he deserved better. So did I.

“You wanted to know where I went today,” he whispered, his chest vibrating beneath my ear when he spoke.

I nodded when he didn’t continue right away.

“I go to the cemetery. I like to visit them,” he admitted. “I don’t want them to be alone and I…” He stopped himself.

“And you what?” I prompted.

“It’s not important,” he sighed, his fingers tightening around my hair to the point that it was almost painful.

I didn’t press the matter, not wanting to push too far. After all, he had given me more information than I expected. I knew when to back off and now was one of those moments.

We laid on the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a long while.

I think we both needed to bask in the peacefulness of having it all out in the open. No lies and no secrets separated us right now. We were just two people, clinging to the support the other provided. I’d never had anyone like Caelan—someone I cared about so completely and so selflessly. He was a beacon of light in my dreary life. I knew he didn’t see himself that way, but he was to me at least.

I couldn’t help but believe that some cosmic force had pushed us together, making sure our paths crossed. I’d thought I was coming here for no reason, but now I believed that I had come here for him.

We were destined to meet and destined to heal one another.

I was more sure of that than I was of anything else.

His fingers lazily brushed up and down my arm. A light hum buzzed in the back of his throat and the sound of it calmed my racing heart.

After a while, he brushed his lips against my cheeks, the scruff adorning his chin chafing my skin. “Be my canvas.” His voice was a husky whisper against my ear.

His fingers found the strap of my bra and he grasped it in his fingers before pushing it off my shoulder and trailing his soft lips down the side of my neck.

I found my body arching off the floor and a soft moan escaped my throat.

“Wh-what?” My voice shook, distracted by the feel of his tongue on my skin.

“Let me paint you,” he kissed his way over to the other side of my neck.

“You want t-to paint a picture of me?” I asked, my head rolling back to allow him better access. “Didn’t you already do that?”

“No, not of you. I want to paint you…your body.”

My heart sped up in my chest at his declaration.