Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗧here was a fleeting moment where Rueben hesitated. A single moment as he stood, shoulder pressed to the balcony porch, and watched as his former best friend sat inches deep in the sand, doing nothing but letting the wind blow through the strands of his auburn hair.
As Rueben's shadow engulfed him, and Matteo's lack of self-will chose to ignore the possible sign of danger, the moment anchored him. Hounded him. Deprived him of what he needed to tell him about, and almost forced him to turn on his heel and walk away—to not rip him from the world, the walls, and the bounds he'd created around with only a door fitting his sister.
But the moment passed, and so did Rueben's hesitation.
It was only five in the morning—arguably too early for anyone to be up—but when the house they shared was filled with trauma, and the brains that rested on pillows were too busy living them to care to visit those pain in their dreams too, it was reasonable.
Rueben let out a sigh and palmed the sand, sitting down next to Matteo. He crossed his legs under his body and propped the rest of his body on his wrists, leaning backward. With his chin angled up, and the wind taking turns in his hair now, he settled in the breeze and sat for a second.
Just sat.
And for the first time since his life went to shit—which started around the age of five—every thought he had flew out the window as if he were a living metaphor. And when the sun began to warm the specks of beach underneath their bodies, and the waves began to echo with rapid increase, he let out a breath and opened his eyes.
With them on the sunset, he finally spoke.
"The first time I kissed Rayne was on this beach."
"Really?" Matteo blinked open his eyes, "Don't tell me you're going to marry her on one, too."
"Nah," he laughed, "Isaac already took that idea."
Rueben swallowed the lump in his throat—the bad taste on his tongue—as he recalled just how long that marriage lasted. He chose to ignore the weight pressing on his chest, and the increase in his heartbeat as ill, unwanted thoughts of the dead began to spark in his mind.
Thoughts of beach weddings being cursed for him now. For pools of water to not be so friendly. For the entirety of his life was a train coming off the tracks, bound to crash into some unsuspecting, innocent pile of future bodies.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," Rueben pushed on, negating his thoughts.
"You already proposed," Matteo sighed, "No point in getting my blessing now."
"It's not that," Rueben shot him a half-smile.
As Matteo's golden eyes turned in his direction for the first time in the hour they'd sat together, Rueben took note of the dimness in his eyes, probably in the same way Matteo saw through the fakeness in his smile. And for another pause, Rueben contemplated popping his bubble.
