.runaway.//troyler au

. aftermath . xx

  The drive home was very drowsy for all of us. Dad fell asleep on the wheel twice, causing a load of honks and not-very-nice words to be thrown at us in the late May air. I didn't blame him, though, the grey bags beneath his eyes showing the amount of sleep he'd gotten since I left. After about an hour Mum decided to take over, and I figured out he'd been losing sleep to make sure she got some. I find that adorable.

  Sage offered to play some music for us. It was very soft and acoustic, the voice of the singer delicate and airy. I didn't know the songs, but I felt myself humming along with them, mirroring her falsetto tone with ease and making up my own words. Tyde was watching me the whole time, his eyes narrowed to take it all in, and his head to the side in admiration. I wasn't going to call him out on it, obviously, though I was quite interested that he would look at me in such a way.

  A sweet, poignant song came on. The singer was a girl, and she was clearly hurting. Her voice was in pain like she'd lost something special and was struggling to find it again. It must have reminded my parents of me, because Mummy began to weep on Daddy's shoulder, saying how thankful she was that they'd found me.      

  We trot into the house, our limbs hanging tiredly from their sockets, eyes red from all the crying. Steele closes the door from behind us and locks it. I sit on my favourite rocking chair, a plush cream seat given to me by my aunt. It always smells like strawberries, which is a strangely comforting scent to me, as I don't really find strawberries all that delicious. Everyone else falls unto the sofa, Sage being the exception as she instead seats herself on the ground before the others, allowing Mum to finger-comb through her honey-coloured locks. They don't say anything, as I thought. So I clear my throat, close my eyes, and apologise.

  "I'm sorry," I mumble, so quiet I can barely hear it myself. Tyde looks up, though. He's not said a word for ages.

  "That's all you have to say?" he says, glaring at me. But his eyes aren't cold like he may have intended them to be. They're soft, and hurt. I look down at my feet, squishing my toes in my socks.

  "I'm sorry that I ran away," I begin. "I'm sorry that I left all of you like that. I know you were all worried sick, and I am so, so sorry that I would ever make any of you feel that way. I was just...scared. Scared of being shunned, I suppose."

  "Troye, we would never shun you," says Mum, her voice still trembling. I bite my lip, peeking at her through my eyelashes.

  "And I was very wrong to hit you," states Dad.

  "I won't do it again, I promise."

  "You don't have to," murmurs Sage in a soft tone. She gives me a small smile. "I can understand you were hurt, Troye. We all do. Of course, if you ever need time away, you can just tell us. It hurts more to think you would have gotten beaten up, or hurt in any way. We're just glad that you're with us now, that's all that matters."

  Tears pool in my eyes for the umpteenth time today. What would I ever do without them? I get out of the chair, falling into my sister's arms. I lay my head on her collarbone, my ear pressed to her chest to hear the faint beat of her heartbeat, the heartbeat I'd heard in my mother's stomach just barely thirteen years prior to now.

  I had been so confused to hear it. Actually, when I first heard the heartbeat I scrambled away from my mum, claiming something was wrong with her stomach. I was only two at the time, so of course I knew nothing about babies. All I knew was that there was something in Mum's stomach, and that it had a life.

  Naturally, I asked her about the topic. I was really straightforward, too, telling her she didn't need to censor anything for me since I was a 'big boy'. She chuckled at my curiosity and insistency, and went on about how I was one as well two years before, that as the months went by her stomach would grow bigger and bigger. Then she said all babies come out of their mum. I laughed at her, inquiring as to where I'd even come out of. She gave me this little smirk, and told me that I'd come out of her...mm, a word I'd rather not say. I totally freaked out at that, running to Daddy and pleading him to say she was lying. Alas, she wasn't, and thus my toddler brain was scarred for life.