A Test of Faith [bxb]

17. Help Me Find The Way

We had gotten too comfortable. We had gotten too careless. We had fallen into the same trap that Ezra had worried about so long ago. I had promised him that we'd be careful, that the fate of his past wouldn't be repeated.

I had lied.

I woke up to a throat clearing. Or maybe it was the change in air pressure. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the sound of the angels laughing at my naivety, at my idiotic hope for a happy ending.

My eyes shot open in a panic. Ezra's head was buried into my neck, his arms wrapped snuggly around my bare torso. His soft breaths warmed my skin as he slept, blissfully unaware of our impending crash to earth.

My mom's arms were crossed tightly over her chest as she stood uncomfortably in my doorway, her eyes looking anywhere but my bed. Understandably, she was avoiding the sight of the bare limbs tangled with mine, our only modesty being the sheet draped across our hips.

I quickly abandoned the comfort of the boy beside me, shooting up to a sitting position as I gawked at the doorway.

Ezra's head abruptly rolled onto my lap as he let out a sleepy groan. "Luca, what the f—"

"Ezra." I intended to warn him in a firm voice, but it came out as a trembling croak. It was probably better that way, though, because Ezra noticed my panic immediately. He opened his eyes, those same eyes that had been shut in ecstasy just hours before, struggling against the morning sun pouring in through my window. His gaze followed mine until he connected with the figure in my doorway and scrambled to sit beside me. Still too close. But that didn't matter anymore.

"Sister Wilson, I—"

"Ezra, I think it's time you went home," she said. Her voice wasn't angry; it was numb. That was worse. Her eyes were no longer roaming the room, rather fixed on my own.

Ezra nodded.

My mom left.

I couldn't breathe.

Ezra's hands immediately found my shoulders, pulling me against his firm body. The tears that spilled down my cheeks were hotter than any touch he'd ever laid on me. They were hotter than his breath the night before. They were hotter than the campfire the night we met. They scorched my skin, surely leaving scars in their treacherous path. The pain was unbearable.

"Luca, look at me," Ezra whispered, pulling back to hold my face in his hands. I didn't, though, scared that my tears would burn him, too. "Please." His voice was raw, and I met his eyes.

He was crying. He felt the same pain. He came to the same conclusion. "I c-can't lose you," I sobbed. I wouldn't survive. The air was quickly thinning already, and his absence would take the last bit of oxygen from my lungs.

"You aren't losing me." Despite the approach, his wavering voice sabotaged any belief in those words.

"I love y—"

"Stop. Don't do that," Ezra interrupted, furiously shaking his head. His curls, still unruly from last night's activities, stuck to his wet cheeks. "It'll be okay. I promise." He was lying to me. He never lied to me before, but I supposed I deserved it after feeding him the same line earlier in the summer.

My mom's voice called from the floor below, telling us to hurry up.

"I can't d-do this," I choked. It wasn't fair that I was demanding all of the comfort, but none of this was fair, anyways. "I l-love you. I love you so m-much." It was the truth. He deserved the truth.

"Don't," Ezra said, pulling me back against his chest and pressing his lips into my hair. "Stop talking like I won't see you again."

He wouldn't. I knew that, and he was much smarter than me. He must've known, too.