A/N: Please don't be mad at me for this one... ;w;

— Chapter 70 —

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There it was.

The voice I'd waited five years for. The same voice that helped me find a path through the darkness I used to know. The one that I fell in love with.

It was a shot to the bloodstream. A tonic for healing; a sound that made me forget my own aches and pains. More than that, it was a gesture of acceptance and forgiveness, holding its arms out to comfort my uneasy soul.

I listened to it and my surroundings bled away into nothing. The crowd, my family, the bride and groom, and the few people willing to call me a friend. Keeping up on the piano, muscle memory came as a saving grace, because there was no chance I'd have remembered anything with the trance that Elliot's voice had me in.

All I could see was him.

We weren't in a ballroom anymore. We were stupid teenagers again, playing gigs for any stage that would have us. Two people bonding over a shared love for music away from the stresses of the outside world. It was as if I'd never been gone—like nothing had changed.

Elliot had one hand on the black stand, another gripping the handle of the microphone. His plush lips were so close to it that they grazed the cold metal. Moisture glistened at his cheekbones. The soft curtain bangs of his hair fell loosely over his eyebrows, touching the eyelids he'd rested gently shut, whilst he sang the lyrics to a song I was so grateful that he'd remembered.

Our song.

We wrote it together not long after his mom passed. Everything from the lyrics to the melody served as a cathartic release, built out of love, focused on love, because it was love Elliot needed when the only parent who truly cared for him was gone. That was all our music ever was: a means of letting out our frustrations in the only way we knew how.

Elliot needed this release because of me.

Because from his perspective, I betrayed him five years ago. And he didn't have to say it out loud for me to see that pain reflected in his eyes. He was a constant balancing act—keeping me at arm's length, too scared to let me in again, yet continuously falling victim to his own curiosity and a fear of being alone.

It was my fault that things ended the way they'd had between us. I was the reason that Elliot was so high-strung in my presence.

He feared my anger.

An inescapable rage shrouded my mind. Sometimes it roared like a firestorm. Other times it was the crackling of a dying flame, simmering just beneath the surface, volatile yet constant. Deep red, the colour of blood, it forced me to view the world through a scarlet lens.

Since I'd been a child, that fury had corrupted me from the inside out. A child screaming and kicking and crying out for someone to help me. For someone to care. For my parents to notice that Midas—the visitor they let walk through the halls of their estate during the night—was taking advantage of my vulnerability. But nobody did anything. Nobody ever did anything. I was a child, and they broke me.

I was supposed to have cut myself free.

I did everything I could to escape those people and the ropes they pinned me down with. I was supposed to be free. I wasn't meant to be poisoned by so much rage. That anger I felt as a child wasn't meant to follow.

It ruined everything.

All it took was a single difficulty or inconvenience for me to lash out blindly—my own temper trying to protect me from dangers that didn't even exist by any means necessary. Shouting. Screaming. Vicious words. And I couldn't calm myself down in time to prevent the consequences. I couldn't recognize the state I was in until the damage was already done.

I hurt the one person I ever truly loved.

The applause of a mesmerised crowd brought me out of the daze Elliot's voice enamored me into. Absorbed so completely, I hadn't even realized our song was over until the glamourous bride and groom had finished their first dance. When had I stopped playing the piano? When had my fingers come off the keys?

The applause continued as my focus drifted to Elliot. He was still by the microphone stand a few feet from my ivory piano, lingering there, trying to catch his breath. Stuck in a moment in time. With slumped shoulders, his hands gripped the stand so tightly that I thought he'd snap it half. His cheeks were flushed, as if he were about to break down, and I couldn't see his eyes past the hairs that had fallen over his face. Every ounce of his strength had been depleted.

He'd been holding that in for five years.

He'd given it everything.

The dance floor and the lavish guests folded away into nothing as I moved off the piano stool. But Elliot moved first, and with his hair still concealing his expression, he tucked his hands into his pockets and walked off the stage.

I followed him. Catching his arm, we stopped in a shadowy corner of the convention hall, out of the crowd's view.

Elliot's chin was to his chest. His lower lip was caught between his teeth, and he spoke nothing as I slowly tilted his chin up to meet the burnt hazel of his eyes. He exhaled a shaky breath in the space between us.

Bloodshot whites met quivering irises. Pain. More than pain. Those hazel pools of his were a cocktail of happiness, heartache, relief and exhaustion. And he must've thought me cruel. Cruel, because while he was so troubled, there was nothing but pure amazement coursing through my veins. I was so proud of him.

But he was right. I was cruel.

Fuck the crowd. Fuck the wedding, fuck anybody who'd been watching. Gingerly cupping Elliot's cheek, I took his wrist and closed the space between us, letting my hair intermingle with the pale-brown locks over his forehead. His breath hitched in his throat; he gripped the hem of my jacket. Our lips meshed together in a blaze of passion and broken restraint.

I was a selfish man. I would rather Elliot know my love for him and despise me for it, than live another five years as collateral in his balancing act. Because I couldn't live like this. I couldn't live at arm's length, and I couldn't be his friend. I couldn't keep fighting my impulses while waiting for him to make up his mind. He'd drive me insane. He was driving me insane.

It's all or nothing.

So I kissed him. And I didn't care when he didn't kiss me back. I just needed him to know. I needed him to understand the longing I had for him, even for a brief moment. Because that longing was burning me. It was acid in my veins and if I didn't remedy it, I'd come undone.

We parted for air.

It felt a lot more real, the kiss, as I put space between us. Real because it lingered on my lips and thrilled the nerves between my heart and my head. It wasn't just another dream. And there wasn't a single night in those last five years that I hadn't dreamt of him.

The arch of his throat bobbed. "Why did you do that?" he whispered, breathless.

"Because I lied." I confessed, "I lied when I said I was in Boston for the wedding. I never cared for a goddamn second about this wedding, not once. I came back for you."

Elliot shook his head and sucked in sharply.

"Please don't. Just don't," he begged. The backs of his hands pressed against his eyelids. "I can't do this. I can't play these games."

"This isn't a game."

"You left me," he hissed, canines visible between blossoming lips. "Or did you forget? I'm not... I'm not stupid. I'm not naïve. It took me too long to fix what you broke and I—I can't fall for this again. It's too soon. Just..."

"I know," I said. Embracing the side of his neck, my fingers lost themselves in his hair, thumb caressing the side of his smooth jaw. When I spoke, my voice was weak with the burden of emotion. "I know. I'm not leaving you again. I promise, Elliot, I'm not leaving again."

His lips parted open for words he didn't have. Distraught irises searched mine. I caught every fleck of green and gold within them, counted them all, burned them into my memory.

It wasn't my fault, I wanted to tell him. Trust that I never stopped loving you.

"James!"

Jayden's voice carrying from somewhere behind me interrupted our conversation. Elliot took it as his chance to step away.

"I'm going to find a restroom," he muttered, gaze falling to the floor. "Excuse me."

My gaze followed him as he left. I would have said something to stop him—but the moment swiftly passed as my brother stopped and rested his hand on my upper arm.

"That was beautiful, brother!" Jayden beamed at me. Noticing Elliot's departure with curiosity etched into his expression, he said, "I was just coming to thank you both for the song. Where's your friend going?"

I tucked my hands into my pockets. "He just needed some air. I'll let him know you enjoyed it."

"Adored it, more like. That Elliot has some incredible talent—unlike anything I've ever heard. Now I see why you devoted so much time to him." He let out a relieved sigh. "I think even our mother was moved to tears."

That callous woman isn't capable of such a thing, I wanted to comment, choosing to hold my tongue instead.

"She wasn't the only one," Jayden continued in my silence, the smile never leaving his eyes. "I think a few people were crying in the audience. Aunt Ashida too—and she spent twenty minutes crying after the ceremony earlier. Said it was the best first dance she'd seen in her lifetime." He laughed out loud. "Everyone is so impressed. They all want to know Elliot's name."

"I'm glad." Meeting his gaze, I asked, "How about you? How did it feel, dancing in front of a thousand people?"

"Nerve-wracking at first, of course," he admitted. "But there's nothing else like it. Once you're there, and the music's playing, nobody else matters. It's just you and the person you love."

After the performance Elliot and I just put on, Jayden's words resonated in a way they probably wouldn't have before.

"You deserve to be happy," I told him, earnestly.

Jayden glowed with warmth.

"And you?" he wondered out loud, "Does Elliot make you happy?"

The question had me staring down the walkway that Elliot disappeared through only moments earlier, finally addressing the empty feeling that came with his absence. Happiness. The word echoed through my head in Elliot's soothing voice, a piece of our history seeping through the vault of my memories that I'd bolted shut.

I murmured, "Since the day I met him."

My brother nodded. "Then hold on to that, James. You'll find yourself feeling much lighter when you've got someone to share the weight."

"Is this a wedding or an evening lecture?"

Jayden hit his elbow to my shoulder and bit back at me in our mother tongue.

My eyes rolled at his behavior. I turned on my heel and reached into the pocket of my tux jacket. Locating the folded slip of paper I'd brought in with me, I handed it to Jayden and watched his lips purse in interest.

"What's this?" he asked.

I crossed my arms as he unraveled it to read the words printed on the letter. Jayden quickly answered his own question, realizing, "The favor. This is what you want?"

"It's not for me. But... yes." I stole a glance at our parent's table. "Your mother has the connections to see it through. If Tanjiro is a man of his word, then this should be no problem. I'll have nothing more to do with him on the matter."

But Jayden didn't seem to care about that, his deep-brown eyes glued to the words on the page, a crease between his thin eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to do this? He won't... he won't forgive you if he finds out."

My jaw locked tight.

"I know."

My brother drew in a deep breath, tucking the letter into his pocket.

"You were promised a favor." A sigh escaped him. "Consider it done."

"Good." My posture relaxed; my breathing returned to normal. I turned to leave. "Enjoy the rest of the night."

Jayden shot a hand out, stopping me in my tracks. Though he refused to meet my eyes, my stare lodged daggers into his head.

"Are you sure you can live with it?" he slowly uttered. "The guilt of knowing the truth?"

Truth. A scoff left my lips. There was no such thing as truth.

"Come on, Jayden. You've lived in this family for longer than I have." I gritted my teeth together, leaving him to stare at my back as I walked away. "We both know it by now... the truth is what you make it."

I'm losing my mind.

The thought echoed in my head as I stood by a free sink in the wedding venue's public bathroom. It was the third bathroom I'd found, the only one that wasn't full to the brim with socialites. Away from the noise of all the music, the only people around to witness my internal breakdown came in the form of guests coming and going, none of whom cared enough to notice my presence.

The bathroom must have been the size of our apartment. It certainly felt like it. Deep grey tiles met a long counter of black marble, above which hung spotless mirrors backed by bright LED lights. Expensive soaps, glass vases full of flowers, and pristine hand towels made it all look like something from an interior design magazine. I was almost too scared to touch anything.

That kiss wouldn't lay off my mind.

What the hell is wrong with me?

My cheeks were hot, but I wasn't flushed. My nerves surged with electricity, but it didn't feel good. My hands trembled and my neck was warm with perspiration. James's kiss continued to linger on my lips, no matter how many times I washed my mouth—and Noah's tattoo—out with water.

It didn't feel the same as it used to.

Splashing a handful of water against my face again, I took a few slow breaths as the cool liquid stunned my system.

Something was different this time. Instead of butterflies and a sense of weightlessness that usually came with James' kisses in the past, I felt zaps of electricity—and like Sisyphus, the full weight of a boulder on my shoulders. I didn't feel like a teenager in love. I felt like an idiot.

I was plagued by the stench of guilt. For kissing James and for betraying my own feelings for Noah, whatever those feelings were in the first place. For going against the promise that I'd made to keep my distance from James—because I couldn't let what happened between us happen again. I couldn't live through that a second time.

At some point in the last few months, Noah had managed to twist himself into my head. He'd pushed past my barriers, knocked down my walls, held the rubble in his hands and marveled at the sight of my fading soul laid bare. He'd ignited it; given it a reason to glow again... and now James had returned to claim it for himself. A shadow to swallow the light.

They were pulling me in two directions, fighting to occupy the space I had left in my fragile heart. But my heart was only so big. It couldn't fit them both—and I felt like a balloon about to burst.

Rubbing my eyelids and drying my face off, I shook out my hands and left the quiet of the bathroom. Stepping into the nearly deserted hall, which was carpeted in maroon red and showcased windows that stared out into the darkness of the starry night outside, I wandered in the direction of the party with my mind somewhere else entirely.

The wedding felt like an afterthought—especially as I bumped my shoulder into a stranger that'd been walking past.

Oh, shit.

Stammering back, I stared up with wide eyes at the unsuspecting stranger I'd just run myself into. It was an older man, slightly taller than me but nowhere near as tall as Noah or James. Two other men stood behind him, both outfitted completely in black.

"I'm so sorry," I blurted quickly, holding the man by his upper arm as he regained his balance. "That was my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you okay?"

The stranger chuckled and straightened up his silvery-grey suit.

"Don't worry, Elliot," he spoke, voice rough like weathered stone. "You're not the only one with their head in the clouds."

His chin tilted up to unveil every last one of his ivory-white teeth. The stranger's eyelids wrinkled together into a smile, one that cut through me like a shard of glass against my skin. It was such an unnerving expression. And yet, I recognized it—it took me a moment to recall why, but as the voice filtered into my head, I found myself letting go of the stranger to take a few cautious steps back.

You have her eyes.

"Midas," I breathed.

This was the first time I'd seen him since the night at the train tracks. And if he was Noah's enemy... then I needed to get the hell out of here. Now.

"What's the rush?" he asked me, as if my thoughts were being recited for him out in the open. Midas stuck his hand between us for me to shake. "I've waited a long time to meet you, you know. It's about time we were properly introduced, wouldn't you agree?"

A paralyzing sense of fear caught me by the tongue. He knows my name, I thought. My mind wandered to the tracks again, back when Han pressed his gun to my head. Then again to Han, Marcus, and Ash—the men who'd destroyed our apartment and kicked the shit out of me for the fun of it.

He sent Han to our apartment. He's going to kill me.

There was a twitch in Midas' owlish eyes as he closed the space between us. "Let me help you," he gritted out, forcing his hand into my own. "When someone extends their hand, you show some respect and shake it."

I was going to be sick all over his suede shoes.

His head tilted, and the displeasure on his face evaporated as if it had never been there in the first place. The churning in my stomach got worse as he brushed the hair out of my face and touched his top lip with a moist tongue.

"Wow," he breathed. "You really do have her eyes."

Twice. Twice now he'd said the same thing.

Reminding myself of every syllable in the words, I stuttered, "Whose eyes?"

"Why—your mother's, of course!" He laughed, stepped back, and clapped his hands together. A spine-chilling Cheshire grin contorted his dry, paling lips. "Who else's?"

"You knew my mother?"

"Indeed I did," he affirmed. "Briefly, at least. She was always so restless. Never gave herself a break. For all her kindness and altruism... she was a marvelously stupid woman."

My eyes shot wide.

The air left my lungs. His words were a dagger plunged through my ribcage, ripping through the very place I'd stored away my grief. My feet pulled me backward. I wanted to escape. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.

A furious voice shredded through the hall.

"Get the hell away from him!"

James lodged himself between me and Midas. Taking my hand into his firm grip, he pulled me behind his body, his muscles rigid like forged steel. His nostrils flared, and his breath escaped him in hot and heavy bursts. Rage filled the void of his eyes—reflecting the smirk of Midas' undying humor.

"Well, this is a surprise," the crook purred, taking in James' unsettled appearance. "Fancy seeing you here, hm? Surprised they let you attend at all." A laugh escaped him. "Well... at least you clean up well. Elliot, too. You both certainly look a pair."

Midas' words left a stark realization settling within me. They know each other.