TWENTY—TOO LONG
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I COULDN'T BELIEVE how goddamn gullible my parents were. It was impressive, really. The way they ate up the falsified information like it was candy, nodding their heads with wide eyes, looking like the proudest parents in the world.

Of course, I knew it was all bullshit. The only reason they were happy was that they thought I'd found the one. Please. If they could have arranged my marriage when I was fifteen, they would have. It was like they were beyond impressed that I'd found someone stupid enough to fall in love with me in the first place. 

And that was why I felt the need to break into the conversation with a, "well, it seems like we've all caught up on lost time, so will you two be leaving in the next twelve hours like we planned?" I forced a smile onto my face, but it felt--and probably looked--more like a grimace. 

My mother's easy smile slipped off her face as she slid her gaze from Bucky to me. "You really expect us to--"

"Yep." I bristled. Bucky's fingertips brushed against my leg in warning, so softly that I barely felt it on my thigh. Heat rose in my cheeks as he tapped three times as if to say, calm down. You're going to make them suspicious of us.

Which, I suppose, is true. But I was so sick of them snooping around my life and making snap judgments about my choices and looking down to me as if I were the muck on their shoes that I felt a wave of emotion roll over me in a matter of one second, a violent mix of blinding fury and crippling grief for the loss of what was supposed to be the most reliable relationship in my life. I admit if Bucky weren't here, with his fingertips grazing my leg like they were, gently reminding me that he was here with me, on my side, I may have lashed out even more. But I resisted, my anger slightly ebbing away at the point where our skin touched, those small points becoming the reason I could only feel crushing sadness instead. 

Thankfully, my usually oblivious father got the clue and nodded. "You know, dear," he turned to Mom, "I do believe we've overstayed our welcome. It's high time we were headed home." Glancing at me, he added, "Thank you for your...hospitality, Elda. I think we'll just go up and pack our things so we're ready when it's time to go to the airport."

Holding my mouth in a tight-lipped smile, I watched as they both got up, climbing the stairs to--finally--get ready to leave.

"God, I thought they'd never leave," I groaned softly, leaning back on the couch. 

Bucky, still sitting straight-backed beside me, looked over and cocked an eyebrow. "You've still got twelve hours until they really leave. Besides," he added, "they haven't been horrible guests. They're your parents." He shrugged.

I flicked my eyes to him. "What are you saying?"

Shrugging again, Bucky looked away, his hand fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I don't know, I just..." he sighed. "I just think you should act a little more grateful that your parents come to see you once in a while." His eyes got a cloudy look to them as he continued, "Even when my parents were alive, even when I lived with them, I didn't get to see them as much as I probably should have."

Rolling my eyes, I sat up and adjusted myself so I was looking straight at him. "You think I see them a lot?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Don't you?"

His utter confusion was so purely Bucky that my hardened exterior softened for a moment. "This is the first time I've seen them in two years, Buck. Ever since..." I caught myself dwelling on a memory and forced it out of my head, clearing my throat. "Never mind."

Bucky reached out his hand for a second as if to grab my hand, but then pulled it back, deciding against it. I ignore the pang in my gut that wishes he'd actually done it. "You don't have to talk about it. We've all got secrets. Some bigger than others. I know that better than anyone." He looked down. It was quiet for a minute before he opened his mouth again. "But I'm here for you. You know, if you need me."

I looked up sharply at him as tears pricked the backs of my eyes. "You'd do that?"

He shrugged. "Sure. It's nice to be needed sometimes. Not always needing others." Chuckling softly under his breath, I see a rare grin grace Bucky's face. And dare I say it, it's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. "Would you look at that, Elda," he says, my heart thumping loudly in response to my name rolling off his tongue, "I'd say we were friends."

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The next twelve hours dragged by so gut-wrenchingly slow that I just about wanted to tear my own eyeballs out of my head. I mean really, how long does a twenty-six-year-old have to wait for her parents to leave her house? Forever, I guess. 

We sat through two more painful meals and about eight episodes of some old show my parents insisted on watching. Given the fact that they were leaving soon, I let it slide.

But now, cleaning the kitchen of the dinner dishes and finally having a moment to myself, I found myself counting down the minutes until my parents left, catching a cab to take them to the airport for their evening flight. 

"Hey," Bucky said, knocking lightly on the doorframe as he entered the kitchen behind me. "Need any help?"

"Besides ushering my parents out of the house? Nothing I can think of," I growled, carelessly putting a coffee mug on the edge of the cabinet shelf and merely watching dully as it toppled down to the counter again, bouncing to the floor and shattering into pieces. Sighing, I crouched down and swallowed roughly, holding back tears for the second time today. Before I could pick up even one piece of broken glass, Bucky was right next to me, doing his best to help. 

Obviously seeing my struggle to keep my emotions in check, he reached over and patted my knee. "Take a few minutes to yourself," he said, "I'll handle this."

Placing my hand over his, I thanked him silently and stood up, walking out of the room and through the living room to go to my bedroom. The least I could do was read a book for a few minutes, right?

Wrong.

"What did you break this time, Elda?" My mother said, not moving her eyes from the television screen and sounding bored. 

"None of the precious china you decided to leave here," I replied, too annoyed to put any venom into my words. "It's fine, just a coffee mug."

The lack of a response I received didn't surprise me. They were never interested in what I had to say, anyway. 

Who am I? I turn into a PMS-ing teenage girl when they're around, I roll my eyes inwardly as I grab a book and try to lose myself in the pages.

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It was finally time. My parents were packed and standing at the front door, waiting for their cab to pick them up. To be honest, I wouldn't have been that surprised if the cab driver got lost on their way to my house, as it was hidden in the middle of a forest. 

"Are you sure you can't give us a ride to the airport yourself, Elda?" My father asked for the third time, looking back over his shoulder. 

"Yeah, I've got so much stuff to finish tonight, it'll work out better this way," I answered a little too quickly. 

"Alright, well...we'll call you when we land," my mom said as the cab pulled into the driveway. She leaned in for a hug, and I felt like I had no choice but to oblige her, so as I wrapped my arms around her, I whispered, "No you won't. But that's okay."

When she pulled back, I thought I saw a flash of hurt in her eyes, but I refused to dwell on it. She deserved to feel let down a little bit. That's how I'd been living for the past twenty-six years.

My father opened the door, flashing a smile at both Bucky and me, standing with an awkward distance of a foot apart. "It was nice to see you, Elda. And it was nice to meet you...Michael." His voice spewed off suspicion, but I was too anxious to see them leave in the cab than to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

Bucky nodded, flashing a smile and shaking my dad's hand one last time before the door closes and they're officially gone. 

I didn't feel it coming before then, the wave of grief that suddenly hit me from all sides, causing me to keel over and let a pained scream tear itself from my throat. And before I knew it, I was drowning, suffocating in my own tears. I clawed at my throat to relieve the pain of the sobs that ravaged through my lips, but nothing stopped them from erupting from my lungs. The salty tears were a waterfall as they streamed down my face, staining my cheeks and making them shine in the evening sunlight.

I was faintly aware of Bucky grabbing my arm with his hand and whirling me around to face him. He pulled me into his chest, forgoing any sense of discomfort we still held onto and clutching me to him, holding me while I wept loudly for the loss of everything I'd ever loved.

I missed him. Cade. I missed the feeling of his presence beside me. Too long, I had kept it inside of me, punched down into a box. Too long, I had taken him for granted. And now, he was gone. A dream, shattered into a million shards of glass, lodged in my heart. 

"Breathe, Elda," Bucky said softly, pulling back and locking eyes with me. "Breathe."

It took a few tries, but I was finally able to reclaim a handle on my breath, sucking in oxygen smoothly through the crushing weight that still sat on my shoulders. A weight that I was sick of carrying by myself. It was time to set it free.

"There's something I haven't told you," I stumble on the words, looking up at the dark-haired beauty of a man who was staring at me like I was the only one in the world. 

He shushed me again, though. "You don't need to tell me, remember? Some things are too private."

I shook my head. "I need to. I need to tell you, or it's gonna eat me alive for the rest of my life and I'll never--"

"Okay," he complied, nodding. He reached up to brush my hair away from my face, but I beat him to it. The blood rushed in my ears, loud enough to drown out any sound in the universe. "Okay," he said again.

"My brother," I started, choking as I said his name, "Cade." Swallowing roughly, I looked up at him. With the tears drying on my face and my eyes puffy and my nose running and being at my absolute lowest point, I inhaled slowly and breathed out what I'd been holding in for too long.

"My brother's dead. And it's my fault."

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bitch this took me four fuCKING HOURS TO WRITE ONE CHAPTER i hate suffering from writer's block

and it doesn't even feel like i kept the same vibe that barneid usually has throughout the rest of the book, it feels a little too easy than it has been. but oh well, that's what editing is for when i'm all done with this book.

i'll be honest here, i'm gonna try super duper hard to get another chapter up tonight because you guys deserve it--it's been a phat mONTH since i updated last. but i also have school starting in two days so my sleep schedule can't be that fucked up anymore. 

thanks for reading, you babes :)

published on: september 2, 2018