On the Mountain

by Riley Hart

Crow didn’t speak right away, just flipped me so I lay on my back on the couch, and came down on top of me. He brushed my hair off my forehead and traced the freckles on my face. “You.” “Me what?” “You give me you. Not just your ass. All of you. Your…feelings, your words, your smiles. You.” He shook his head as if he was doing something wrong, and my breath caught, unable to break free. “I…” Crow squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. “Only need you. Mine.” Crow held on to my throat, with just a little pressure, but also brushing his fingers over my pulse. “Yours,” I promised him, voice cracking. Always and forever I would belong to Crow.

We stayed there for a long while, breathing each other’s air. When he backed away some, I missed the contact. He still lay against me, but our heads didn’t touch. When I saw his smile, though, it was worth it. With a shaky hand I touched it, traced his lips with my fingers. Then I kissed two of my digits and pressed them against his lips. He sucked them into his mouth, twisting his tongue around them. “I love you,” I whispered, then held my breath. Crow released my fingers, confusion clear on his face. “Why?” “Because I was meant to love you. I exist to love you, to belong to you.” Crow’s expression was so soft, so gentle, while at the same time, his eyes were wild, untamed. He answered by leaning in and pressing his lips to mine, just once, but it was all the answer I needed. Somehow, even though I wasn’t anything special, Crow loved me too.

The second he saw it, Cyrus stilled. I watched him taking it in. He didn’t speak, didn’t move for what felt like an eternity before he said, “You painted a Christmas tree on your wall for me?” “Yes.” I waited, hoping it was the right thing. Almost immediately, he started crying. It was quiet, but he didn’t have to look my way for me to know. “I can cover it if—” “No! Please don’t.” He turned to me, his face splotchy. “No one has ever been this nice to me. No one has ever made me feel like I matter. I’ve always been something people can throw away. I don’t know how to deserve this.” “You already do.” I’d told him last night. Cyrus gave me himself. That was all I needed. “She said you were her sun, but you’re mine too.”

“You give me control,” I told him. “That’s something I will always need. I told you last night, you give me more than I ever expected I’d have.” Cyrus looked up at me, his gray eyes so gentle and open. “I know.” “Giving you what you need, that is my purpose.” People had joined The Enlightened because they thought Chosen was their way to salvation. It had been ugly and wrong—the things he had done—yet I’d wanted it so badly back then, to make Chosen proud. Now I knew my salvation was the man in front of me, and it was beautiful and right and I would never let him go.

Sliding to a stop, I hid behind a thick tree, my breathing coming out even more heavily now. I heard Crow’s footsteps crunching in the snow. “I’ll find you,” he said. “You can’t hide from me, little lamb. I can smell you…smell how much you want me…the muskiness of your desire, the scent of sugar that always clings to your skin. I’m going to find you, and I’m going to fuck you.” My knees nearly gave out. That was maybe the hottest thing I’d ever heard. I bolted out from my hiding spot, but Crow was there. I tried to escape him but tripped and fell, his body landing on top of mine.

“Don’t move,” I ordered, and he nodded. My heart banged against my chest, blood rushing through my ears as I leaned in and pressed my lips to his again. Cyrus started to shake, but he did his best not to shift even an inch. He was so good for me, always so good for me. It was that thought that made me lash at his lips with my tongue, tasting them this way for the first time. “Open.” My lips brushed his as I muttered that one word, and he did. I flicked my tongue into his mouth and nearly went weak in the knees. This…yes, I wanted this, so much. He tasted so sweet, so mine. “You can move now, little lamb,” and when I pushed my tongue into his mouth again, he danced his with mine, kissing and sucking, licking and tasting. I was drunk off him, addicted to him, hands on his hips, fingers pressing into his skin as I kissed and kissed and kissed. I was mesmerized with how our tongues moved together, how they played and wrestled, and the feel of his smaller body against mine. My hands tangled in his hair, never wanting this moment to end. When he whimpered, I swallowed it down. Was this what kissing was like for everyone? I didn’t think so. It hadn’t been for me all those years ago, and nothing between Cyrus and me was like it was between anyone else.

“I’ve been…obsessed with you from the start,” Crow said as I knelt in front of the one of me from when I’d sprained my ankle. “This is what you do? When you come out here? Paint me?” “I painted other things before I met you…nothing but you since.” My heart… I couldn’t put into words what it did. The truth was, I didn’t have a heart anymore. Not one that belonged to me. I had given mine to Crow. It was his, in his possession, and always would be. “Do I really look like this? Am I really this beautiful to you?” I heard Crow move behind me, until he was right next to me. “I keep painting because they never turn out as beautiful as you are.” I didn’t know what was happening to me. One moment I was fine, the next tears spilled down my cheeks, loud sobs pulling from my throat. Crow sat beside me, pulled me into his arms, tugged me to his lap and held me, hands touching me everywhere, like he was trying to make sure I was okay. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought—” “You didn’t hurt me. You…you’re healing me.”

They all smiled and looked happy despite the horrors I knew happened here…knew there were even worse things I didn’t know about. You would never guess that. Never guess the pain the man had caused, but most monsters were like that. They made you believe they cared, that they wanted what was best for you, made you believe they were the only answer, the only ones who could help you, when really, they were the ones who would break you. Monsters hid in plain sight, slowly chipping away at your choices, at your possibilities, and that was what the monster in his painting had done to every single one of them.

“That’s not your fault.” I turned to look at him. “Is it not? I keep this. Sometimes I want things to be how they were.” “That’s because it was all you knew, Crow. And then you were thrust into a world you didn’t understand. You want to go back because you had your mom. There are times I wish I could go back too. My mom was in pain every day. She hated herself. She would pass out in her own vomit. But I would go back because I had her. Being alive is so complicated. Feelings are complicated. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” And I guessed that meant I wasn’t a bad person either.