♤SPRING SHIELD (MxM) ~fantasy~♤

How break memories

Elijah

I woke up this morning and reached my hand out to the left side of my bed. Where he normally liked to sleep.
When he first slept here,he told me to move from his territory. Like that space had always been his to begin with. So in the dark of night,irritated and drowsy. I scouted over to the other side of the bed,because I was way more sleepy than I was annoyed. Then he conjured up some nonsense about how he couldn't sleep when he didn't get the left side.
From then on it was his. And every morning when he would almost falling off of the bed,I grew a habit of reaching my arm out and pulling him into my chest. But when I spread out this morning. I found nothing but air and sheets to grip on.
I can still smell him even though I already changed my sheets twice. Somehow,defying reality he lingers in my home like a ghost.
Because of this I set out to rid my home of him. To stop being afraid of whatever the hell he left behind the door to that guest room.
Opening the door,slowly with a turn of the knob,fear still finds a place inside me. I often wonder to myself in these days what could possibly be so terrible about it. I have no idea.
When I do,I find it in disarray. Multiple things are just on the floor or hanging off of surfaces. It feels as though the spirit of his urgency is still here. Like everything has been stopped in time.
It's a familiar sight. Like the day we were at his old apartment and it looked as though the entire house was an art piece. Stopped where it could never be revived.
The bed isn't spread on his desk are multiple mugs and cups,some empty,some half full. In the closet that he used,is nothing. It's empty if not for some of my T-shirts that he would deliberately wear even though I told him not to.
When I see them neatly folded on the very bottom of the space,I can almost hear him telling me he doesn't care.
Deciding to never wear these shirts again,I throw them into the bag that will be their last resting spot. In the drawer,I find books I had forced him to read. He had practically filled them with tags and notes,not taking anything seriously.
I throw the books along with the shirts.
Soon,I've swept through the entire place. The bag nearly full of all the things he left behind. And finally,I peel the covers off his bed. The sheets float up in the air as I roll them up,but something drops against the floor. Like metal.
When I round the bed to see what it is,my eyes meet with the red metal. The bracelet I had given him lying there with all the rest of the jewellery I had given him that very night.
Seeing them here angers me so much. Worse than anything else he left here. Because I can hear our conversation in my head,playing over and over.
'Don't tell me there's more,how much did all of this cost?'
'Nothing costs too much for you'I answered. That moment is gone now and I think of how before I never wondered about jewellery or anything lavish.
I lived off of my inheritance and if I needed to buy something,I asked David. In a split second I went from that to spending millions that I had never once spent in a given time without so much as a second thought.
This is how our conversations keep haunting me.
The only thing that breaks me out of my rage and regret is the knock I hear on the door downstairs. I put everything down and race to the door.
"Mother."I say once I open it,she smiles briefly before letting herself in. "Elijah,recently I've been thinking that I want to go to England to visit relatives-"
Her voice follows me as I head to the kitchen and pour myself the sixth glass of wine of the day. Sipping on it,gingerly as she continues her monologue. I watch as she puts a huge container of muffins onto the counter,
"And I want to bring the boys."she finishes,"Let them see the world,especially with a break right around the corner."
"That's great,mother."I say,with no intention of letting her do that,"What's all this?"I ask inspecting the container,
"Muffins."
"Since when did you make muffins?"
"Since when did you drink a quater past noon?"she counters,frowning at my nearly empty glass. She'd have a bone to pick with me if she knew how much of my collection I'd managed to consume the past couple of days. "Besides their for Kristian."that would do it.
Downing the rest of my wine I pretend to be completely fine with the mention of his name that I've been avoiding. "He posted about oatmeal muffins on his social media- or whatever. I don't think I've ever seen someone write so passionately about oats."she explains,
"Mother,you don't even use social media."I groan,
"That's because you haven't spoken to me recently- I now find it,a quaint little way of speaking to someone. You can speak to people you don't even know there."
"So you've been speaking to Kristian."I suppose that goes with all the other things he didn't tell me about,
"Yes,he's a polite fellow."
"Polite? Mother,you never even liked him."
"Well,when he came to your father's memorial service,I started to. He managed to get you to eat that day,which you normally don't. The boys seem to like him and the public opinion of him has been swayed after that dainty little commercial the lot of you filmed."she says making herself comfortable and snatching my glass from my hands.
I sit on the dining table with my head in my hands. Sighing. "I've forgiven him."
"Whatever for?"I mutter,not interested in the answer no bit,
"For taking you. He's clearly doing as much as he can to take care of you."I look up at her with my blood shot eyes. I can only imagine what I look like. "... something has happened,hasn't it."she's not asking. She knows.
Sitting down beside me.
"It's a shame you formed a friendship with him,I thought this news would make you happy but now..."
"Out with it then."
"He's their father,mom."the room goes silent for a fat beat of silence.
"I see,"she says looking out the window like it's nothing too serious. "And he was trying to integrate himself back into their lives or...?"
"He claims he didn't now until around three weeks ago. During their birthday."behind her eyes I see the realisation. We don't have to say what exactly happened.
"So,he's never coming back."
"To this house,ever."I reassure,adopting a defensive body language as I fall back into my chair narrowing my eyes at the table. Would it be a big deal if I decided to renovate the entire mansion?
"And you've fired him."
"Undecided,but due to our...irreconcilable differences,I'm afraid it'll happen eventually."
She stares at me for a long moment. Seemingly,emotionless. Not angry nor sad. No reaction in sight.
"Elijah,you don't have to get married."
"...what?"
"I'm sorry that I ever put it into your head that you have to get married and honour the family bloodline. Because at this point in time,you have no use for your second blessing. You already have not one but two heirs. Even without your second blessing you still thrive and are regarded as one of the strongest protectors of the nation."my hands find themselves crawling up my skin. As though I'm holding myself together.
"You don't have to explore the complexities of love with anyone else. Because if you can't fix whatever has been broken between you and him- "
"Mother."
"I'm trying to say that right now,I understand how you feel. I saw you in those days,how many negative thoughts and emotions had overthrown you. Now their all coming back,they're flowing through you all over again. The opening of the old wound is painful..."A pause,"It feels like he's doing it all over again. Taking your peace away all over again. Knowing you,you probably made a promise that when you found him you will never let him live. But the twisted nature of his identity is making it hard. He broke you and that's okay. You might need years to heal,or never heal at all. I know you love to live by the rules and I want to tell you know that there's no rule saying you have to find someone to marry now."
"Looking at you now,you don't have to come back from this. Knowing you,Elijah. You probably never will."she says getting up and heading to her container and carrying it out. "I'll take this from you,to ease your burden."
Never.
That word lingers in the air around me. Suffocating me.
"What burden?"I say,not bothering to wipe the tear that's burning down my cheek. Dripping from the cusp of my chin onto the table,
"The burden of breaking memories,dear."