thirty
"Domum."
HOME AT LAST
———
As the train screeched to a stop, William woke with a jolt. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and more importantly, where he was going. Home.
Rising from his seat, he grabbed his backpack, packed with clothes and with Mary's letter. He couldn't let it out of his sight, lest the world decide to play one large joke on him. If he had the letter, her handwriting, it meant this was real. It meant Mary was alive.
It meant he was going to be reunited with her within the hour.
His eyes welled up with tears that threatened to spill, but he wiped them away and stepped through the train doorway. His stomach flipped and flipped and flipped. He couldn't remember ever feeling so nervous.
It took thirty minutes for William to find a black cab, and the drive felt like forever, but eventually the familiar-looking house rolled into view and his driver ushered him out the car (after asking for the money, of course). In the night, the house looked scary with its black-slated roof and mossy walls, ivy extending from the snow-covered garden. His breath clouded before him, and he was frozen to the spot.
What if. . .
No, he thought. No, I will not ruin this night.
The snow crunched beneath his shoes as he walked toward the front door. He lifted his arm to knock, hesitant—
But the door swung open, and Mary opened her arms.
William gingerly stepped toward, careful not to hurt her. After all, she had just gotten admitted out of the hospital. He wrapped his arm around her, lightly, and rested his chin on the top of her head. The height difference made him laugh.
Mary's arms tightened around him, and she pulled away, reaching for his hands. Tears glistened in her eyes, and she smiled that soft smile that most mothers seemed to share. His heart cracked open.
"William," she said. "I missed you so much."
A single tear slid down his cheek, but he did not wipe it away. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I—"
"None of that," she scolded. "Nothing was your fault, William. Only Tom's."
"But—"
"None of that," she repeated, leading him inside. "Do you want some tea?"
He nodded. "I can—"
Once again, she cut him off, smiling. "Let me do this for my son."
William had never felt his heart stretch so wide so fast, something aching deep within. But also something happy.
He followed Mary down the hallway and into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table, his usual spot. It felt strange, so very strange to be back. To be home. To be home without Tom.
"He pushed you," William said. "Didn't he?"
Mary caught his gaze, her eyes sad. "He did."
"You have to—"
"I'm filing a report," she said. "And a divorce."
William smiled.
"And a restraining order."
He rose from his seat and walked over to where his mother was preparing the tea. He wrapped his arms around her again, and he let out a sob.
"I'm sorry," he said, and quickly, "I know. I know. But please, just let me say sorry. I should've said something, done something."
"William." Her voice was soft, kind. "I know." Her voice turned light, joking. "But let us not dwell in the past. You're ruining the Christmas festivities."
He laughed. "We can't have that can we?"
Mary continued preparing the tea as William searched the basement for old Christmas decorations: a plastic snowman, a broken, dusty ornament, and a giant heap of lights that didn't work. Still, he hung them up and set the snowman on the table as the center piece because it did make the room feel more festive. More light.
"Tell me about the academy," she said. "Tell me you like it."
William considered. "I do," he said. "I do like it. It's hard but.... but it's worth it."
"And your friends?"
"Good," he replied. "Oh, just great."
"Tell me about them."
So William did, recounting the tales of his journeys with Ashton, Henry, and Elijah, laughing with his mother.
And then there was Lucien.
"Tell me more about this Lucien," she pleaded. "Your eyes light up whenever you mention him."
"He's—"
How could William describe him, capture his greatness?
"The most beautiful boy I've ever seen," he said softly, and Mary listened with a gentle smile on her face. "He's also the most stubborn. And he—"
He spilled his guts—not literally, of course, but he did supply Mary with almost every detail of the past months. Almost every detail. There were some more private moments he wanted to keep between himself and Lucien.
"And this boy?" she asked. "You love him?"
Love.
Love was a strong word.
But William paused, thinking. Then said, "I do. I love Lucien Harding."
"And does this boy know you love him?"
"I hope so," he said.
Mary laughed, the sound melodic and light. It was the most beautiful, refreshing sound William had ever heard. "You hope so?"
"I know so."
Mary rested her hand against the top of his, smiling. "I'm so proud of you, William, you know this?"
"I know," he said.
And smiled.
The rest of the night was spent talking, so much talking, until both of their eyes were droopy with sleep. Unwillingly, William trudged to his old bedroom, eyeing it as if through a looking glass. It looked so different.
He headed toward the desk, though, determined, pulling out a slip of paper and his pens. Despite the heavy feeling in his eyes, he knew he needed to do this.
And so William Brown sat down with an empty piece of parchment and wrote to Lucien Harding, the love of his life.
———
Yay! Another chapter! I had so much joy writing this chapter, and I hope you all loved it. See you all next time, and thank you so much for all the comments and votes. It means the world <3
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He Bleeds Flame ✔️
Romance(bxb) After a year of surviving an all boys boarding school, William Brown thought he had finally navigated the ups and downs that the rich, private school had to offer. He'd even managed to make a few friends, as well as a rightful enemy. Lucien Ha...
