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It’s not true. It’s not. “Because…because you and I both know that if she were here, I wouldn’t even be an option.”
“It’s always about her. Even when she’s dead, it’s all about her. Always has been, always will be with you,” he spits.
The sheer devastation that barrels through me at his words… It rips me apart.
Jeremy, who’s always looked at me like I was his hero, like someone worthy of his admiration, of his friendship, of his time… The gravity of my mistakes—of what I’ve put him through for years now—is no longer able to be denied. It’s fucking crushing. And it’s everything I deserve and then some.
His pain. His anger. Years of agony and spite stored up… It’s all laid out for me to see.
My lungs are on fire. My anger is a living thing—a live wire whipping through my veins, snaking toward my heart.
We called it “Chokehold.”
“It’s okay to be scared.” His mouth tips up. “To be an artist, is to bleed. It’s to surrender. That’s a terrifying thing. Not everyone has the guts for it.”
I stare at him. And keep staring at him. Jeremy. Jeremy… Jeremyjeremyjeremy— Everything is quiet, except for his name pounding like a drum in my chest. It’s there…it’s right there…just look a little closer… Let it in.
“Perhaps the answers you seek aren’t in the stars…but in the space between them.”
this is what it truly is like to kiss Jeremy Montgomery, my shy, stubborn boy with his fiercely protected heart; the boy who gave me back the stars…the angels… The boy who held me even when it was likely killing him… The boy who just ripped himself open for me. “I’m in love with you, Mason.”
Like this, trapped in his orbit. I can believe it. I feel it. How he hid this from me, I have no fucking idea. How I could even doubt him… No clue.
This kiss isn’t just a goodbye—a last chance. It’...
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But because… He is wrong. That kiss confirmed as much. There is something here…something raw and fragile and foreign, yet…not. Like a forgotten memory, I just have to polish off. There has to be…I can’t be so fucked in the head that I created all of this—all of that—out of nothing. Out of a void. He is the void. Him. Jeremy. He’s what’s been missing all along… What I’ve been chasing. Right in front of my fucking face.
To me. This is a good thing, I think sadly, smiling as I sing about the world falling apart, and following your heart, and having each other’s back and— Say you’re mine.
I don’t want to lose him… But I know I can’t keep him. Not now, not like this. I’ve kept him for long enough. And this boy deserves to fly free—to scream from hilltops haloed under lemon-yellow suns, his demons slain and scattered beneath his feet.
King Jeremy the Wicked, finally ruling his world. And maybe, just maybe, one day he’ll let me be part of it once more…
Simple. Safe. Boring. The unholy trinity of all things I’m allergic to.
