Wanna Be Yours

chapter seventeen: cardan

17 Hours Before the Competition

I hope you reconsider, Cardan. She had said. I hope you reconsider and come back to us. We'll take you back. We'll make you a worthy Greenbriar. We'll be welcoming. Proud even.

Proud even.

Cardan hated to re-listen to the voicemails his mother left. She'd left more and more lately as if she knew somewhere deep down that this would unnerve him with the competition creeping closer. She'd been calling without end, and even though Cardan never answered, even though he knew he'd never go back to that house, to his parent's rule, that he'd never see them again if he didn't will it, something stirred within him every time he saw her phone call.

Every time he listened to those messages.

The truth was, that inwardly, he spent way too much time growing sick over the acknowledgment that he'd never get to be with them again. That he'd never make them proud. He knew he didn't want to, he knew it didn't matter, it shouldn't! They were no good for him, they'd said their goodbyes, and Cardan was never going back, not for anything. But it was still hard, still difficult to let them go fully.

How did he make his mother's words not hurt anymore? How did he rip her apart from himself, from his thoughts, from all the wondering of how it could have been if she simply loved him better? Differently? Honestly?

"Cardan!" Roach said firmly, "Are you even paying attention?"

"I am," Cardan responded, shaking his head, "sorry."

"This is the gazillionth time tonight," Roach continued, "do you want to lose tomorrow?"

Cardan frowned, "Obviously not!"

"Then? Focus."

"I am focused, I'm just—"

"You are not focused, man. We need you. You're the leader. Whatever you're thinking, put it away for later!"

Cardan's chest flashed with anger, but before he could answer, Oak said, "Or you could tell us."

Cardan turned to his nephew, he had his old acoustic guitar in hand, golden hair messy, eyes tired. It was late, and Cardan knew they needed to call it a night soon, they needed the rest if they wanted to perform well tomorrow. They'd only been drawing out this short rehearsal because of him. Cardan was distracted, more than that, he felt overwhelmed. He was the leader, he should be firm, he should have plans, he should—

Be more.

"Tell you what?" Cardan snapped, not meaning to sound so harsh.

"What you're feeling. What's got you so... Funky."

Cardan's nose scrunched, he didn't like the fact that his band knew he was being strange, "Nothing, it's fine." He mustered a smile then, quickly washing over his previous irritation, trying to pivot, trying to seem like a worthy leader for once, "We'll be fine tomorrow. It's why I'm not worrying too much about it!"

"You always do this!" Roach said, fully frustrated now, "You can't pretend to win this competition by assuming and playing around, Cardan. Do you even care about this?!"

"Of course I do!"

"Then show it! Why are you so lazy? So—"

"I am not being lazy," Cardan whirled towards him, skin itching at the accusation, "I am just..."

"Just what? Too busy and distracted texting your new girlfriend?"

Cardan stiffened, "Jude is not my girlfriend."