the art of letting go

twentysix - trusting you

the art of trusting you

- - -

Finding out that my brother was dead felt a lot like drowning in the sea.

At the start, when I found him, there was this weight pressing against me, keeping me motionless. I couldn't hear anything but the rush of blood in my ears, coldness seeping through to my heart, numbing all of my senses entirely.

Then the current hit and dragged me under hard. Like saltwater filling my lungs, it burnt at something deep inside of me. No matter how hard I fought, or how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn't get away from the pain.

When I stopped fighting and accepted that I was going to drown, regardless of how hard I fought, I sank to rock bottom. Nothing but gallons and gallons and gallons of ice cold water was around me as I sank; this never ending darkness that did nothing but exhaust me deeply.

Then everything returned to normal.

Mom was exactly the same. No changes in behavior, no expressed condolences, no grief. She had a new boyfriend the following week and it was like her first born child never even existed. While I was drowning in the waves, she was floating in her ignorant bliss, high on whatever she could get her hands on. I cried and cried and cried. I was alone.

No big brother to help me find lunch. No nightly hugs. No one to tell me everything was going to be okay, that I was loved, that I wasn't alone.

The more I allowed myself to think about Kreyson, the more I realized exactly where my trust issues stemmed from. I never truly had any hope for my Mother, never expected anything different when she was the exact same way my entire life. But Krey...Krey was my brother, my best friend and my protector. He promised me I'd never be alone and he left. He left me and if my own brother, my own blood whom I never doubted, could do that, what could people who didn't even have that preconceived loyalty to me do?

I remember the feeling of turning sixteen, of being absolutely furious at the world for letting me live past an age that my brother never got to see. How does that make sense? How was I allowed to live when he wasn't? I hated myself so much for it. I hated him so much for it.

When my entire world was drowning around me, Nico was there. Nico gave me the strength to get past that pain. Getting to sixteen was an achievement for me, I realize that now. But that number, what it represents, still makes my throat close up. If I thought getting to sixteen was a milestone, then getting to sixteen years without my brother beside my side was a fucking landmark. I've spent nearly two thirds of my life missing him.

I hadn't mentioned to him what this week symbolized for me, in terms of Kreyson. I knew he wouldn't hesitate to stay with me, but I also knew he was having some fairly sleepless nights, if the dark shadows under his eyes were any indication.

"I'll be back for dinner, I promise." Nico leaned down once more to kiss the pout off of my face before grabbing his phone and wallet from the cupboard. He was just about to reach up and tie his hair back when I got a sudden and overwhelming urge to keep him with me for just a few more seconds.

"Can I do your hair for you?"

Nico paused, hands midair as he turned around, "You want to do my hair?"

"Yup." I nodded, sitting up on the bed and holding my hands out expectantly, no doubt resembling a child making grabbing notions with their hands.

Nico's grin lit up his entire face as he came to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back so I could reach him. He passed me the black hair tie that he usually kept on his left wrist and faced away from me.