The Sensible One (boyxboy) ✓

Chapter Sixty

He smoothed his hand through his combed brown hair, faded at the sides. His warm hazel eyes were a little darker than usual but still the same, they hadn't aged, they added well to that reasonable, sophisticated look. Occasionally still when I saw them I felt some shock at seeing memories replay in my head, that I buried out of shame and guilt. Memories I figured back then I would always look back on and smile about.

We'd once gotten locked out of the house during a late winter evening, streets full of fresh snow, the lights had just turned on in the gated neighbourhood, so far only the footprints of foxes and birds. We'd had to sit together huddled on the welcome mat, the only thing separating us from the concrete steps, sharing it with our inadequate jumpers and scarves.

It wasn't supposed to snow that day, we'd only gone out to rent a movie and go back but he'd forgotten his key, and mine was conveniently still stashed in my bookbag, sitting on his bed in his room.

A moment into the cold he kissed me and told me to wait, got up and walked around into the garden, I was puzzled and waited for him, only to hear a loud crash a moment later.

I bounced up onto my feet and ran into the garden to see him holding part of the trellis, flat on his back, leg still in the flowerbed.

"Craap," He'd groaned with a lazy, cheeky glint in his eyes as he turned his head to look at me. "Mum's going to kill me for that." He waved the broken piece of wood that held up her Don Juan roses, part of the plant still attached to it.

I was half baffled and half laughing, kept laughing to myself a while after too, my shoulders shaking as not a moment too soon his mother came home, heading toward the sound of her car pulling up into the driveway.

That, I'd thought to myself so stupidly in that moment, would be a great story to share in the future, with friends we made down the line.

Remembering it so clearly made my heart ache.

Part of what happened was why I felt so old in the first place, it wasn't being a year away from thirty, it was feeling like I'd just had to pretend all of my teen years never happened, like I was a predator.

"What do you want?" I asked him calmly. "They put out new hors dourves a moment ago. Wine is over there." I gestured to the bottle on the kitchen counter a little way away from me.

He walked up calmly, and very suddenly grabbed my upper arm, yanking me a step towards him.

I looked at him in shock. "Weston-!"

"I want to talk." He insisted. "I want to apologise."

I fell mute, not sure what to say, not sure what I wanted anymore. Was his apology really worth anything to me anymore? The heartbreak and the dent it left behind, maybe an actual honest to god apology would make me feel better, clear up things.

It didn't feel like it would, those warm hazel eyes of his were some how disconcerting to me now, knowing that he wasn't the same vision of perfection I saw him as back then.

I could hear people heading toward the door to come inside, feel Matthew watching us, concerned, from behind.

I sighed quietly, and walked out with him as he opened the door, shrugging to loosen his grip on my upper arm, but not quite getting loose. His eyes glinting as he looked down at me while we left to find a private space.

[Lowell's POV] 

"I don't need your help." I insisted for the fourth time as we were nearly a street away. 

Bazile followed me regardless, seemingly more pissed than even I was, and for a completely different reason, he was just upset that Max would dare break the rules that way.