The Beauty in the Broken (boyxboy) ✓

Chapter 3: Barriers & Bridges

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a/n: Here is chapter 3, I hope you like it!

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"What happened last night?" This was the only question on my mind as I woke up this morning, my bed ridden of its sheets, bundled up on the floor with its warmth stolen by the night. I looked out my window and saw the familiar tree outside my bedroom; this morning, ridden of its leaves, it looked empty, devoid of any color, neither alive nor dead. 

As I muster the energy to stand up, I take the time to snap a picture of the empty tree, reflecting the emptiness I felt—or rather feel—on this dreary morning. As my feet thump under the hardwood floor, I let my eyes wander to the mirror in my room, glancing at my reflection. "Weak, ugly, no one could love you," the harsh whispers reach my ears as I look at my reflection in the mirror: empty.

Did that really happen last night? I ask myself as I dress sluggishly and make my way into the corridor; the cold nips at my feet and envelops me fully, like a mother's embrace, except there is no warmth to it. Would my dad hit my mom? I peek into the kitchen only to see it devoid of any life. Was it simply a trick of the shadows, the whispers plotting my demise, perhaps? Making me see things that are not real. Not true.

I put two slices of bread in the toaster, waiting for them to pop. I hear distant creaking from afar; I tense, waiting for someone to show themselves. Thankfully, it's my mother. She looks at me for a long time as we hold eye contact; she looks tired and older. After a few seconds, she speaks. "Hi, Charlie, how are you this morning?" she says, her voice soft and her face sad.

"It's going okay," I say with a slight tremor in my voice as I clench the counter tightly, my knuckles white.

"Let's talk," she says, gesturing to the sofa in the living room. As we sit, I can see how tired she looks; her movements are small, perturbed as if the house would give in if she made too much noise. She looks at me and takes my hand, rubbing it softly. "No matter what, I'm always here for you," she says, looking deep into my eyes, tears threatening to fall.

"I know, Mom, I know," I say, a quiver in my voice as I look at my mother and contemplate how she could have become so fragile—a shell of herself. My mother takes me away from my wandering thoughts. "Remember when Grandma took us to the lake? We laughed so much that day," said my mom, with a sad little smile, looking down at our intertwined hands.

"I remember... I wish we could go back to days like that," I said, feeling the weight of the absence of Grandma in my heart. As I start crying softly, my mother begins to break down. She says, "I love you, you know that, Charlie. I hope you do," she says, crestfallen, looking straight at me, deep into my eyes.

"You've grown into a formidable man," Mom says with a soft, sad laugh. "I love you too, Mom," I say, tears flowing down my cheeks as I look at her and all the unspoken words before us. We hug and stay like that for a few moments, my hands clenching her as I used to do when I was younger, when everyone was happy. She ruffled my hair softly, carding her fingers between the curly locks. We pull apart, frightened by the popping of my toast, and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

Softly wiping our tears, we stand up. "I'm going back to bed," my mother said, obviously tired.

"Of course, I'll see you later," I said with a soft smile as she trudged back to the bedroom, her soft steps resonating in the house. As I retrieve my toast from the toaster and munch on the golden slices, I hear a sudden honking outside. I swiftly make my way to the window, only to see Maya's truck noisily parked in front of my house. She waves enthusiastically at me as she sees me.