Let Go

28: Solace

Harken's P.O.V.

The worst thing about withdrawals was the nightmares that accompanied them. I could deal with the shaking and the yearning and the immense need for a cigarette or a glass of whiskey, but I couldn’t deal with seeing Aiden tied up to a chair in a warehouse over and over again. It reminded me that I did what I did to him. That the scars on his body were my doing, despite whatever reason, they still were the cuts I inflicted, the blood I drew out.
The pain I caused.

And I kept seeing it every single night in every single dream.

A drop of blood pooled in its place and kept getting bigger and bigger until it dropped down and rippled in what was a puddle on the floor, which turned into mud, then suddenly a foot stepped in it, followed by a scream: Goal! And everyone cheered. They were happy. He was happy. The team scored.

He was a school kid full of joy and spirit. I was a school kid full of smoke and spirits. He wanted nothing but to win. I had already lost everything by then.

Then the rain poured and soaked him.

Everything changed with the waning smell of petrichor and grass being replaced with books and paper. And there he was, sitting at his table. Aiden Haile, struggling with his math. I tried to go sit next to him, but for some reason I couldn’t. I was walking in place. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reach him.

I tried saying his name, wary of my voice being too loud for the school library. Even in the dream she gave me the creeps. Alas, he did not hear me either.

So, I settled for standing there watching him from the short distance. That moment right there was all I wanted. I wanted to be taken back to that time. A simpler moment in my life, where all I cared about was the upcoming exams, the football team, and making Aiden Haile mine before prom.

If I were awake, I would’ve cried at that thought. It tugged at the tightest strings of my heart.

But everything was shattered, like all my dreams.

They turned to nightmares that told stories about a boy with
solace written across his chest,
A key tattooed across his wrist
To open a chest against a chest
A chest that goes from east to west
Finest jewels wrapped in gold
Of all the stories about him told
Burning amber in his skin
Cigarette smoke on lips too bold
With words unspoken from within
A heart that beats a broken bond
To keep him close is a forbidden task
A kiss of tears won't feed his soul
And more than that he will not ask
Inside the light of shadows he'll bask
Regaining the kingdom in his mind
To reign the rain that washes over
The last pages when the story's over
Finding the truth in a clutched hand
That opens up to a cliff's edge
Hovering above and waiting to land
In someone's arms down the ledge
But only a river will accept
What was offered without regret
For water will be the only way
To drown mistakes sent his way
The heavy stream will lead him on
To one last huff his soul withdrawn.

And then I woke up.

A/N: First chapter of 2023, hopefully with many more to come. If you liked this vote and tell me what you think!

More soon x.