Inhale

8.

"There is so much stubborn hope in the human heart." - Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus and Other Essays.

(A/N: some derogatory language is used in this chapter. It is very brief in one of Julian's flashbacks.)

(A/N 2: New character playlists can be found linked in the introduction)

Friday's lessons were cancelled due to excessive flooding from the rainfall. The grounds were silent apart from the occasional outburst of laughter or debate from the floors below. It was nothing like a snow day, because the flooding meant that travel across the grounds was nearly impossible. When snow fell, everything was muted, but with rain there was the mingling of nature. It was steadfast against the tall windows, misting at the base. Percussion met melody as the rain hit the crisping leaves of shedding trees and birds woke up with their songs. Petrichor wafted through the one window I had risked opening right by the desk. Jo hated the stuff; it was a sure sign he wouldn't be able to have a smoke. The window was close enough to me that I could smell the outside and feel the chilled air, and far enough from Josiah so he could sleep without getting too cold. The cold kept me sharp and awake, and I utilised it to finish up my history essay. It was by no means something excellent, but completing it ticked it off my list.

Carefully, I tucked my papers away, and began to tidy. My mother had always cleaned in moments of panic, and I had always ridiculed her for it. But as I got older I began to understand it was her way of reassuming control. To be out of control is the most haunting feeling in the world. Despite my constant internal battle against it, I became much like her. I tidy when I worry, I cry when I anger, I scratch at my nails when I'm anxious.

Although it is difficult to accept, we are the product of our parents. It's not something I liked to think about often, because this revelation held very little positives. And this was true, and is true to this day, for most of us. I have my mother's sympathy, but I also have her sensitivity. Josiah is bold like his father, but he also has a certain cruelty. Evette: fierce but self critical. Ezekiel: a team player with his heart on his sleeve. As I said, it was not something I liked to think about often, but I saw it in myself so often. I saw it in Josiah when I met his parents, and I saw it in Evette as she spoke to her brother with her parents.

Something I do think of often is the one big argument Josiah and I have had. We were in our third year, and things were going awry. Josiah's father and his business were still being reported on, and Josiah became more and more bitter. Even in the same room, his coolness left miles between us. In the mornings he left before the sun was fully up, and slip back in late at night when he was sure I was asleep. Sometimes, I could hear him walk up to the front door with his keys jangling between his fingers. He'd see the light seeping from under the door, and his footsteps would retreat. Occasionally, he'd sit down outside the door. He never knew I knew he did this, and I never told him.

Pitying him, I began to turn the lights out earlier. Even if I wasn't tired, I'd climb into bed and switch the lights out. Or I'd run the shower hot and loud, locking myself in so he could get into bed without speaking to me. I most certainly did not tell him I pitied him. Josiah's least favourite gift to receive was somebody's pity. It changed him. His ego spiralled up and outwards, turning into something ugly. It was perhaps the worst part of our time here, not talking like that.

One night, as we lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he turned his head to me in the dark. It was perfectly silent outside, and late in spring. The windows were open and a cool breeze swirled around above our heads. I don't know what it was that caused it. Maybe it was the way I suddenly shivered that brought his attention, or maybe someone had said something. He had recently split from Ellie, and the two of them had very publicly fought after lunch. Thinking back now, it was such a silly thing. We were all too young to really invest in relationships. I suppose at the time, it seemed monumental.