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“B-but—” Alayna stutters out, her face holding a touch less grief. “I missed the memories. I missed getting to know him because I was too slow getting here.”
“And he missed out on memories with you,” Rhys speaks, holding out his hands for her to take if she wants. “Why was this all on you? Why do you feel like it was only your responsibility to find him? He talked about you all the time, to the point we feel like we already knew you the moment you stepped in the door. But do you know what he said every time we asked him why he hadn’t reached out to you in any way?”
Alayna shakes her head, looking between all of us as we settle on the floor with her. I lean back against the wall a few inches down from her, my head turned towards her. She chews on her bottom lip, then slowly slides her hands into Rhys’. His answering smile is filled with relief and pride, all of us knowing how hard simple touches are for her.
“He said that he didn’t want to taint your world with his problems.” Rhys shakes his head, probably replaying one of the many arguments we had with him about this. “Declan never wanted to confront his problems or his mental health. He used it as a muse for his music and then locked it in a box, hoping it would just stay there like a good little demon. He refused to better himself or seek help at all. We’re all broken, but at least we try to put our pieces back together. He never did.”
“And that is why none of this is your fault,” Riggs finishes, a fierce look on his face.
“You have some of the same demons he did and yet have led vastly different lives. You made something out of yourself and I’ve seen the way you choose to fight every single time the pain has tried to push you over the edge.” I smile at her, not a hint of my normal sarcasm or smugness in it. I want her to know that I mean every single word I’m saying. “You’re a fighter and I believe part of that is because you took the distance and decided to not let the past control your life. The only person at fault for where we are right now is Declan. They say we should forgive the dead because it only hurts us, but I think we deserve to be pissed as fuck at him.”
Alayna looks between the three of us, each of us giving her a small smile in encouragement. I can see the information we’ve given her sink in and her fighting spirit flair up with conviction. That’s exactly what I was talking about earlier, Declan never had that come over him. He just accepted everything like it was how life was supposed to go for him. He never fought for the good things or learned to protect himself from the bad. The longer I’m around Alayna, the more I see that she doesn’t suffer from the same affliction. Alayna makes her own path in life and actuallylives.
"You're right," she says after a moment, her shoulders pulled back with her amazing inner strength. "He also had the chance to find me and he didn't. That doesn't mean I can't mourn what we didn't have, but it does ease the guilt that's been eating at me since I got here."
"Ready to venture in or should we revisit this another day?" Rhys stands, pulling Alayna up with him. "It's been a long rough day, we'd understand if you want to wait a bit longer."
"No, let's at least start today." Alayna peers past Rhys into Dec's room with a small grimace. "It's probably going to take at least a few days to get through everything."
"Yeah, Dec liked to hoard his stuff a bit." I laugh, pulling myself up off the floor with a slight wince. My leg is definitely not happy about all the exertion lately.
Stumbling, I grab the wall to balance myself out, trying not to eat carpet by falling on my face. Small, delicate hands reach out, grabbing my waist to add extra stability for me. My normal response is to say something sarcastic and move away from anyone helping me, but with Alayna, that all dies before it even reaches my lips. The amount of vulnerability and trust she's shown us, especially with how much she's been through, makes me want to show her some back. I find I don't want to push her away like I did yesterday, I want to pull her in and show her every side of me.
Fuck, there I go being a weak ass bitch over a woman that's going to be leaving soon. If there’s one thing my shitty childhood taught me, it’s that you can’t afford to be weak or vulnerable with anyone, even the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally will take advantage of you if you are. The very people who are supposed to love us, supposed to be a safe place for you, can and will use you to their advantage. No love is ever unconditional in my experience, that’s a fucking myth that I refuse to fall for ever again.
“I’m good. Thanks,” I answer quietly, my lips quirking up on one side.
“Sure. No problem.” With that she turns away from me, her back stiffening and her face going neutral. No matter how much I hate that look on her face right now, I deserve so much worse after I treated her like shit earlier. Rubbing my cheek where she hit me, I smile to myself at the memory. The words I said were fucked up and I regret every word, but what I don’t regret is getting to see the fierce, strong, and downright sexy side to Alayna. Fuck, she has a nice right hook.
My eyes move back to her, my ability to look away from her for any length of time diminishing with every second I’m around her. She’s not just badass strong like when she hit me, she’s also that quiet sort of strength that you only find in the depths of hell as you crawl your way out on your own.
“It’s just a room. It’s just stuff,” Alayna whispers to herself, gathering more of that quiet strength around her to finally face the demon in front of her.
With a deep, steady breath she walks into the room, leaving all of us staring after her in a mixture of desire, awe, and pride. At this point, I’m pretty sure we’re all on our way to be head over heels for this woman.
Alayna
The room is an odd mixture of stuff that immediately makes me think of Dec and stuff that tells me he was no longer the boy I knew, but a man I had never met. Even the smell of his cologne is different, this one older and more mature smelling, like smoky musk and rich bourbon. It makes sense since he could probably afford to buy the cologne he wanted instead of stealing whatever cheap one he could get his hands on at the local department store.
Spinning around, I take in as much as I can before turning back to the guys. We all stare at each other for a while, me in Dec’s room, the three of them standing in the dimly lit hallway. None of them have breached the doorway yet, I don’t know if it’s because they were giving me a minute or if they needed a minute to themselves before coming in.
“I’ll take the desk?” I offer, my voice coming out a little rougher after my sobbing fit earlier. If it’s the former, I want them to know that I don’t need nor want to be in here by myself. They have just as much right, if not more, to be going through his stuff than I do.
“Sure thing, Lay.” Rhys smiles, walking in and moving towards the closet doors. The other two come in moments after, each of them taking a section of the small room.
“Why do you call me that?” I ask, my voice holding nothing but confusion. I don’t hate the nickname, I just didn’t realize we were at that point in our friendship. If you can call this two day meeting a friendship. It’s not like I have many actual friends so I have no fucking idea if that’s where we’re actually at or even moving towards.
“What? Lay?” Rhys turns to me, his pretty face furrowed in confusion. “It’s just a shortened version of your name.”
“No, I get that part. It’s just that no one has ever just given me a nickname aside from Declan before.”
“Well, you can probably thank Declan for that one too. He never used someone’s full name, no matter how many times they corrected him. If he didn’t know their name he would use a feature and make a nickname out of it,” Adam answers, shaking his head with a chuckle. “It kind of rubbed off on all of us.”
A smile stretches across my face, my eyes tearing up again as I laugh lightly. “I do the same thing because of Dec. Whenever I meet someone new, I immediately come up with a nickname in my head based on a feature and say that until I get a name.”
“What did you call us in your head when you met us?” Riggs asks, his face alight with humour. He’s rummaging through Dec’s drawers, but his eyes are solely focused on me.
“They’re not very creative.” I grimace, feeling embarrassed about the stupid names I gave them. “I called you Big Guy, Adam was Tattoo Guy, and Rhys was Long Hair.”
