The Cult of Romeo

XIX. La Vie En Rose

Act 3, Scene 7

It was quiet in the hospital room. I stared at the white wall and watched as the clock ticked around and around, over and over again until hours had passed. Nurses and doctors came in and out but I stayed sitting on the chair like a piece of furniture myself. 

It had been a few days since the night of Elijah's memorial and I was completely oblivious to anything that happened outside these hospital walls. I couldn't move or even breathe without a panic flaring in my chest. I was told that our story had been covered in the real newspaper and even on national television. 

Everyone wanted a glimpse of the wickedly tragic lives of private school kids, full of murder and betrayal and poetry. I thought back to the words that Khaleel had told me, things are only as beautiful as you make them, including murder. It felt like years ago since he'd said them but they'd imprinted so clearly on the forefront of my brain that I couldn't help but connect everything to it. 

Our terrible situation had been romanticized and in a way, it helped. It made me feel more like a character than a victim, as though I was just reading off a script rather than reeling from the trauma. Everything always led back to the theatre and I hated it.

Everywhere was my set now, from my dorm room in Burton Abbey that had been empty for some days, to this very hospital room I'd been unable to escape from. I tore my gaze from the clock for a moment to look at the hospital bed, uncomfy with thin sheets and smelt strongly of something I couldn't pinpoint but certainly didn't like. 

The bed was empty and it left a collosol hole in my heart. 

I'd barely talked to Henri since I saw him walk down those stone steps to the basement. Something about my brother rising from the dead was difficult to wrap my head around and I couldn't face him just yet. Had he been around for all those years? Had I missed out on all those memories? Was it my fault? 

"You can go home, you know." The door opened and closed swiftly, letting in a breeze. "You don't have to sit there like a watchdog." 

"But I enjoy barking at the nurses." 

Khaleel let out a booming laugh and hobbled back to his bed. When we met eyes, I felt the cold atmosphere of the room slowly dissolve. I hadn't left him for even a second after he was wheeled into this room. Something between us had changed that night. Maybe the trauma, or the panic or the pure adrenaline of it all kickstarted whatever we were right now. I ran my hand through his hair when he sat back and Khaleel beamed at me. I had only one though; thank fucking God he's still alive.

"Where's your brother?" Khaleel murmured, too enchanted as I gently massaged his scalp to pay attention to his words. "Is he really your brother? You know, the one who..." 

We hadn't talked about Henri and it wasn't a topic I welcomed either. But, I knew at some point I had to at least think about it. 

"Killed himself? Yeah, I thought he was gone too...I don't think I want to speak to him. I mean, he left me, why should I care if he's back. Right?" I shrugged, but it was too forced and painfully fake. 

"I know you really love him, Charlie. You should at least hear the guy out. It must have been important. I can't imagine staging my death over a minor inconvenience." 

I stopped playing with his hair and instead trailed my finger over his jaw, down his neck and arm until I could grasp at his hand that fit so perfectly with mine. Khaleel looked tired, with dark eye bags and hollowed cheeks, but he was recovering and that's what mattered. His spirit was what sparked through the hospital room every day and I loved it a lot. 

"Will you go? For me?" He pressed

I pouted and his pink lips stretched into a smile. 

"Come on," he whined playfully. "You know since I survived, I have to write that book now and I'm sure the readers would love a reincarnation subplot and sibling reunion."