Beautiful Disaster

13 | you have me

The world's not perfect, but it's not that bad
If we got each other, and that's all we have
— If We Have Each Other by Alec Benjamin

the past

I NEVER IMAGINED grief to feel this way.

I always thought it was a burst of ugly emotions that people went through for a short period of time before accepting that their loved one has passed. And maybe that was how most people felt. But for me, it was something entirely opposite. It was numbing — like a dull ache slowly puncturing an incurable hole through my chest.

Two days had gone by since I received the news of my mom's untimely death, and I hadn't shed a single tear since. Maybe I was really nothing but a cold-hearted bitch. Or maybe it was because I was quietly hoping that this was all just a nightmare.

As soon as Cassie and Emma left the house, I dragged myself up to my room. The white marble tiles were cold against my feet, and the splattering of rain filled the somber silence that had sought shelter in this now empty shell.

My mom's funeral ended several hours ago, but my dad hadn't returned home yet. Our maids and butler were also on leave until the weekend, leaving me to wallow in my misery alone.

Leaning my back against the door of my room, I pressed a palm over my heart and closed my eyes. Its calm, rhythmic beating made me furrow my eyebrows.

How was it still beating despite the dull aching pain?

A loud, urgent knock snapped me back to reality, and I opened my eyes to find Dylan waving at me from outside my window. Startled, I rushed over to the other side to open it.

What the fuck was he doing here at this hour?

I stepped aside as he jumped in.

"Why did it take so long for Cassie and Emma to leave?" he complained, ruffling his damp hair.

"What are you even doing here?"

"I'm here to check on you."

"As you can see, I'm fine. Thanks for your pity." I spun around immediately to avoid his scrutinizing gaze.

I always hated it whenever he looked at me that way as if he could read me easily like I was an open book. As if I was the type of person who wore their heart on their sleeves.

I was nothing like those.

"Hey," he grabbed my hand gently, "I'm worried about you."

I ground my teeth together. "I don't need your concern."

"Your mom just died—"

"Then leave me alone!" I snapped, facing him with defiance. "I just want to be alone, okay? Is that too much to ask?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"If you really are sorry, then leave me alone."

Tears burned my eyes and my lower lip trembled as I stared back at the pair of brown eyes that gazed at me empathetically. I inhaled deeply to regain my composure but failed miserably when the tears began to drip.

Why the fuck was I crying now?

I clenched my jaw tight, struggling to stop the tears that coursed down my cheeks. I shouldn't be crying in front of him. Especially him. He viewed me as a person incapable of showing compassion, yet here he was standing before me, watching me as the damn waterworks flowed.

He pulled me into an embrace, catching me completely off-guard. My chest squeezed as his warmth enveloped me. It was familiar and calming, and somehow, everything felt like it was going to be alright.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered close to my ear, his fingers caressing my hair. "You're alright, Blaire. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

Burying my face on his chest, I murmured, "I'm trying to be strong for my dad. For everyone."

"I know. Why do you think I broke the 'Dylan Ashby is banned in my room' rule?" he joked lightheartedly.

"Dumbass," I croaked out.

He released a deep sigh. "I was watching you the entire time at the funeral. I was waiting for you to shed at least one tear, but nothing. You kept your calm in front of a hundred guests, but you're still young. You're allowed to show people how you feel. You just lost your mom. Everyone will understand."

"But I don't know how to do that."

"You're doing it now."