I wake up bleary-eyed from having cried myself to sleep last night. The room is shrouded in darkness, and I’m glad. Nothing about today makes it a happy or light day.
It’s my dad’s birthday.
The first since he died.
And I feel fucking hollow.
I wish I could say I cried myself out last night, but every time I woke up throughout the night, the tears started again. I look down at my phone and see that it’s already ten in the morning.
I guess I’m skipping school. Honestly? Fuck everything today.
I keep my eyes open long enough to shoot off a message to Indi to let her know I won’t be in and to not panic before putting my phone on silent and laying it face down.
The whole world can suck it today.
I curl up into a ball, trying to stop from feeling like my heart’s bleeding out of my chest. Memories assault me of how we spent his birthday last year. We were half a world away from here, in London, doing all of the stupid things that made Dad happy. Like visiting the Queen’s Guard and making fun of their unwavering stature. Wondering how many cake places we could hit up before someone was sick. Doing all the cheesy touristy stuff like riding the London Eye and visiting Big Ben.
And now… Now he’s gone, and we’ll never do any of that again.
I remember complaining about all the stupid stuff last year, taking for granted that it was just another birthday because we’d have plenty more of them together.
Sobs rack my body as the memories flood my mind, and there isn’t anything I can do to stop them.
I miss him so fucking much.
I startle when the balcony door opens, and Lincoln walks in, his school shirt partially open. “What are you doing here?”
He kicks off his shoes and drops his blazer onto my dresser before climbing into my bed. “I remembered what day today is, and I didn’t want you to be alone. You weren’t at school, so here I am.”
I try to wipe my face as he pulls me closer, until I’m lying on his chest. “Remember that one time, when we thought it would be fun to try to make a treehouse. Your dad ended up helping, but managed to nail-gun his shirt to the wall?”
I’m somewhere in the middle of laughing and crying at the visual. That day was so much fun. It was my eighth birthday, and the guys and I thought it would be a great idea if we could build the treehouse we’d been talking about for weeks. My dad was very much not a handy guy, but he loved me and wanted to help.
I sob on Lincoln’s chest, and he strokes my hair, not saying a word about my tears staining his shirt or the fact that I’ve barely spoken to him in weeks.
He’s here for me, exactly when I need him. Just like he was when we were kids. “Thank you,” I murmur to him when my tears finally subside enough that I can form words.
He rests his chin on top of my head as he runs his hand up and down my spine. “You don’t need to thank me, Octavia.”
It occurs to me that he’s the only one of them that hasn’t called me ‘V’ since I returned. Not that I wanted them to call me the nickname, but it’s like he’s always known that we’ll never be what we once were. Something about that realization hurts me more than it should, especially since he’s right here, looking after me the way he did when my mom left.
Maybe it has something to do with me.
All my life, I thought it was everyone else, but maybe there’s something wrong with me. My mom left. My dad killed himself. Even these four… They didn’t want me around once I came back, so they left me in a roundabout sort of way too.
I let out a shuddery breath and pull away from Lincoln, refusing to get too caught up in the comfort of his embrace. I won’t survive it if I get attached and he leaves me too.
I have to remember that.
People always leave.
* * *
“We should do something tonight,” Indi says as we finish changing after Gym. “We haven’t done anything in weeks, and it’s Halloween. I freakingloveHalloween.”
I cannot believe it’s Halloween already. This used to be my favorite holiday, but this year isn’t the same. With that in mind, I realize that I desperately need to reclaim some joy. I’ve burrowed myself away, doing nothing but studying and starting my plans for the recording studio.
I’ve also written more songs than I have in my entire life.