Supernatural Boarding School #3 - A Brush of Death ✅

Chapter 32 - Eros

Please point out mistakes you spot. I suck at typing and thinking tonight, but I wanted to get the chapter out anyway.

Eros' point of view

As I was clearing the dinner plates, I couldn't help but feel homey. Never had I felt like I belonged somewhere after my father dies, except for in Demona's arms of course. And now, in a matter of weeks, I had created a home for myself, with a lot of help from Ellen and, surprisingly, my own mother. The only thing that was missing was Demona herself. She would be so happy if she could see me now. And she would, soon, surely. Once she was done yelling at me and forgave me for that idiotic kiss with Anne and the slip-up with alcohol that one time, she would see that I had changed. That I was better now. Ready to give her the life she deserved.

"One day, you might make a decent cook," Ellen complimented me with a teasing grin. "Not today, obviously, but some day."

"At least my ordering skill are on point."

Ellen had been with Noah for a few days, but she'd come back to visit Demona, so she was staying at her old place – my new place – tonight. As a thank-you for everything I had tried to give her a home-cooked meal. I had made supper for myself a few times, but just things like toast and pasta that I dumped some pesto and cheese on. I'd actually tried to follow a recipe this time, something with chicken and rice, but it had turned out somehow both overcooked and raw. Thank God I lived near a university now, so there were so many take-out places that you basically tripped over them.

"Dem tried to make this fancy French dish once," Ellen reminisced. "It turned out ever worse than your chicken disaster. She called it shit ooh la la."

Once the dishes were done and the pot I'd effective ruined was soaking, we sat down on the coach to watch Frozen. Not because either of us loved it, but because it reminded of Demona and we could easily talk during the movie without missing and plot points. We'd seen it before and... come on.. it's not exactly a complex storyline.

"I've been meaning to show you something... hold on..." I dug a playing card out of my pocket. Dylan had handed it to be earlier today at the hospital and I was curious to see Ellen's reaction.

She frowned at it and held up into the light of the lamp behind her. "That's not Demona's handwriting."

"That's what I thought. I think Dylan ran out of them and decided to fake them."

Ellen shook her head and tossed the card on the coffee table. "That's..."

"Stupid? Sweet? Overprotective?" I laughed.

"All of the above." She took a sip of her wine and reached for the cheese cubes. "I think he was afraid you might freak out." She glanced at me. "You're not, are you?"

Weirdly, I wasn't. From the moment I saw the scribbled lyric, I knew it was fake. Did Dylan think he could imitate the handwriting of the girl I loved well enough that I would buy it? No way.

"I get why he might think you would be," Ellen mused. "I'm surprised you're not, to be fair. Proud and happy, obviously, but confused nonetheless."

Proud. That wasn't a word my own mother used often, although she had been throwing it around quite few times these past days. For the first time, I felt like there might truly be a reason to be proud of myself as well.

"Just because she didn't write any more lyrics on cards doesn't mean she is running out of time. She has never been a great planner, so why should I see this as a sign?" I shrugged. "The cards were more confusing than anything else, honestly. Some were sweet, but mostly I just stared at the wall and wondered what she was trying to tell me. I'm starting to think she wasn't sending a message. She just wanted to do something to keep me busy and who me she loved me at the same time. Give me something to hold onto."