ROT WITH ME

xxv - rwm

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

RAFE'S POV
A MONTH LATER

Juliette readjusted my tie as-I'm not even religious-I prayed for you to show up to Camilla's wedding.

I knew Henry would be there. But I was too embarrassed to ask anyone if you'd come. I mean, wouldn't it come off as sort of pathetic? As if i'm still hung up on a girl who'd repeatedly lied to my face. A girl who needed serious help. A girl, who in all likelihood, hadn't even loved me back?

I heard you were going to therapy from Alara. But it'd been two years, why hadn't you reached out?

Have you gotten better, June?

Rather I hope you didn't show.

Juliette backed up from me, settling down in her chair. "You're tense," she pointed out, dusting invisible lint off my suit. I glanced to her but before I could formulate an excuse, out of the corner of my vision, a light caught my eye.

Hoping clearly held no authority.

There you were, a smile gracing your face, on Henry's arm as some insignificant girl kissed your cheek. You smiled widely. Glowing.

Draped in silks of midnight and stars, pretty, perfect, June.

Henry's light hair was slicked back, a familiar smirk on his mouth. He'd matched your color theme. But even then, you didn't quite fit.

In the blink of an eye, my heart shattered again. So sharp and all-consuming, absolute agony contorting my stomach into several hopeless knots.

Then our eyes met.

I think I've lost it.

"Rafe?" voiced Juliette from the sidelines.

I didn't tear my gaze away from you, no, you did it for me. You slid your stare to Juliette. Then back to me. But half a second later, you looked away, the grip on Henry's arm visibly tightening.

It was no secret that you and Juliette were no longer friends. She'd been obsessed with Henry, but he'd chosen you, hadn't he?

But if you didn't love me, what was that?

That blood rushing to your fist?

That subtle ire in the palm of your hand?

The tiny crease between your brows?

Who was it for?

Was it for Juliette? Or me?

Wait. Are you jealous, June?

Juliette placed her hand on top of mine. Startled, my eyes flitted to hers.

She wasn't even looking at me, she was looking at you, June. And finding comfort in me because she thought I fucking hated you too, she thought I'd rather you dead, June. I've spent countless nights listening to Juliette talk about you because she's the only person who will. She told me about your true colors.

I know the exact shades you are, June.

***

Pallid moonbeams showered over you like you were the world in shape of a girl. Your eyes were the ocean, Oxford blue and endless. I'd followed you out to the candle-lit balcony, watched as you leaned your arms against the railing. Fishing out a packet of cigarettes from your pocket. I thought you'd said smoking was disgusting, June.

The sound of the chorus and instruments from inside weaved through the air like rainbow thread. Each frequency a precise shade. Violins, harps and cellos. The violin began with a yellow-chartreuse tone as I tuned in, but it quickly transitioned into a deeper, mellower tone. A rich, sonorous copper.