If I Stay✔️

85 | seventeen going under

Ace loved his siblings.

It was the fierce kind of love. The everlasting love that was so strong, so pure, so real that it could make your heart ache. The I'd die for you kind of love. Or, if you're Carter and loved nothing more than to get one up on Ace, it was the I'd walk through fire and burn for you kind of love.

His siblings were his rock, his safe place, his sanctuary.

If ever his head got too loud, which happened more often than he'd ever allow himself to admit, they were the ones he could turn to when he felt in desperate need of reassurance. And they'd give it, no questions asked. They were the ones he could count on, when he couldn't be that person for himself.

Especially Alex.

But even with that reassurance, there was still frequent times that Ace's mind got the better of him. Times in the night where his self conscious would pull him into his every nightmare, carrying him back in time; turning him into that grieving five year old boy once again.

Ace wished the dreams would be of the old him, the kid before the trauma, the kid who didn't lose his parents and sister, the kid who could laugh freely, love without limits, and let people leave, without the dread of them not coming back paralysing him; body, mind and soul.

But they weren't, they never would be.

His dreams — nightmares, changed frequently between his parents and his siblings, sometimes both, but the end result was always the same; an empty house, ten empty rooms, and ten dead, bloodied bodies on the lawn, with him standing there, looking down on them; lost, scared and all alone.

Alone, alone, alone.

When Ace would finally wake up, he'd be clutching the damp shirt that stuck to his aching chest, gasping for a breath that just wouldn't come. His face would be ashy and pale, eyes wide with terror as the remanence of his childhood tears littered his flushed cheeks.

It's just a dream. I'm here, you're okay.

For twelve years, that's the words his brother would whisper. Wrapped in each others arms, the older boy would rub his hand down his little brothers back in the hopes of soothing him, uncaring of the fact Ace was sweaty, and sticky, and sobbing.

At the age of six, Alex built Ace his own personal sanctuary within his arms. He would hold him until the tears finally subsidised, until the terror faded, and the rise and fall of his chest evened out, making it possible for Ace to breathe again. From then on, Alex became Ace's point of retreat from the war his own mind created.

Alex was his brother, his best friend, his reason for everything. In simple terms; Ace couldn't function without Alex. It wasn't a secret to anyone that Ace was overly dependent when it came to his older brother. And maybe it was impractical and unhealthy, but he didn't care. Ace needed Alex's presence around him to feel whole, to feel safe.

As long as he had Alex, Ace knew he'd be okay.

But life always had a way of throwing a spanner in the works. Like his parents, Alex would leave him, too. Breaking every late night promise he'd made over the years.

Ace tried to tell himself that it was only temporary, that Alex would come back. But with his horrible habit of overthinking and his erratic, self destructive thoughts, his personal pep talk hung in the air, leaving a still silence his anxious worries were quick to fill.

What if Alex left and got in an accident, and Ace couldn't be there to hold his hand?

What if Alex crossed the road and got struck by a truck and no one knew his blood type, because Ace wouldn't be with him to tell them?