Dark Corners / ✓

twenty-seven: of epilogues

"Griffin!" I called, banging lightly on the bathroom door, "Are you almost done in there? It's been a good forty-five minutes."

Griffin called back to, surprising me with the amount of humor laced in his tone, "Sure, but you're welcome to join me."

I rolled my eyes and took a few steps back from the door, a small smile breaking out onto my face. I had lived with Griffin for eight months and I would still never fully get used to it - to him. I had seen Griffin at his absolute worst - and he had seen me at my worst - and now we got to heal and see each other at our bests. It was an amazing feeling.

It took almost two years for us to heal, and even now I wouldn't say that we were fully okay. But after a year of spending time apart, only talking through the phone, Griffin and I decided it would be best to meet up again. And then we started meeting up once a week, and once a week turned into every other day until we barely spent any time apart. Then Griffin asked me to be his girlfriend, and, after four months of dating, we had decided to rent an apartment closer to my school.

I sighed and walked across the room, pulling open the top drawer that was filled with my clothes. I knew Griffin was nervous about today - hence why he was hiding in the bathroom - and I couldn't deny that I felt nervous, too. It had been two years since we last saw Grant Cutkosky, and I didn't think either of us were one-hundred percent ready to see him again.

The last time I saw Grant, he had been thrashing in a police officer's arms as he admitted to killing his own mother. I would never get that image out of my head.

I heard the bathroom door creak open and I turned, sending Griffin a small, reassuring smile. He looked at me, blue eyes wide, fingers nervously adjusting the black tie looped around his neck. I had seen Griffin looking nervous before, but now he looked completely lost. His eyes darted around our room before landing back on me.

"Is this okay?" he asked, tugging on the collar of his white-button up shirt. Griffin ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, lips pursed, "I don't know if I can do this, Emmy."

I wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, but I couldn't do that. It was the anniversary of his mother's death and we were going to visit his brother in a hospital for the criminally insane. In no world could I promise Griffin that today would be okay, or that we would be able to follow through with our plans.

But I could promise him one thing.

I walked forward and grabbed his hands, gently lacing my fingers through his and pulling him close, "You have me," I said quietly, running my thumbs across the backs of his hands, "You aren't doing this alone. I'll be right by your side."

Griffin leaned down, lips brushing gently against mine. He pulled back and rested his forehead against mine, eyes locked together, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I told him, leaning up a bit to capture his lips in a quick kiss. I pulled back and smiled at Griffin before going back over to my drawer, pulling out a blouse, "Can you go heat up the car? It's freezing out."

Griffin smiled at me again before he slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. I got changed quickly, heart hammering in my chest, my nerves begin to take place. It had taken Griffin and I two years to get our lives back on track, and I wasn't sure what today was going to do. If I was scared to see Grant, I couldn't imagine how Griffin must have been feeling.

And what would we even say to Grant when we got there? Would I tell him that I was pursuing my career to be a trauma counselor, or that Griffin had gotten a job with the IRS? Would we tell him that we had moved in together, or that we both occasionally woke each other up from nightmares about a certain night two years ago? Would I smile at him and try to mask my horror, or would I stay in the corner of the room, too afraid to get close?