The Boy Band Who Adopted Me!

Chapter 38 - Full Suit of Hearts

Snowflakes fell quietly outside. My birthday was less than a week away, and I was trying hard not to think about it. This would be the second birthday that Matthew hadn't been able to celebrate with me, and the one before that was difficult to think about.

We'd ordered takeout, and sat cross-legged on the ground eating while Matthew's cats wrapped themselves around us trying to get a bite. He had given me a gift swathed in black paper around something soft. I'd opened it to find an MCR hoodie from their last concert; I'd never been able to attend one of their shows because they broke up before I even got a chance.

"Matthew, how did you get this?!" I fell over in delight, holding up my container of rice so it wouldn't spill. He grinned at me with that fiendishly wide smile.

"eBay auction," he winked. He'd been looking more and more frail than I'd ever known him, but he managed joy at my appreciation of his gift.

"Thaaaaaaank yooooou," I cooed, reaching out to hug him. He squeezed just a little tighter than all the other times; the hug was just a little softer. I felt him turn his head slightly into my neck, his nose just behind my ear, a tiny breath in my hair. I felt electricity run through my body.

"Hey," he'd said playfully, "you're going to get orange chicken on it."

---

I held the collar of the hoodie close to my nose as I lay curled up in my dorm, Tony under my other arm. Tears stained the hood. I hadn't committed this much to recalling the finer details of Matthew's existence in so long. Usually the scent of his hair, or the crook of his arm into which I leaned during Mario Kart marathons, would recall great sorrow and I would withdraw myself from my memories, back into reality, fixating on some inanimate object in my surroundings to prevent any more nostalgia from ripping me apart again.

My phone buzzed in my hand, conveniently distracting me.

Gavin, 10:30 AM- Hey, you said you were just going back to get books, right?

Gavin and I still had free period together, but when I saw Tony sitting on the bed, looking like yet another birthday I couldn't bear to remember, I'd spent a little too long indulging my hurt. I texted back a quick reply, gathered my books and my messy feelings, then headed to the greenhouse where we normally met up.

The greenhouse was a haven against the snowy freeze of winter. The buzz of the heat lamps seemed somehow closer to us when the world outside was blanketed in silence.  

"Alex," Gavin greeted me. He sat beneath a cascade of fernlike plants, his guitar resting on one knee. I waved him hello.

"I thought we could write a song together," he continued, patting his guitar with a hollow thump. "I've got a little riff down, check it out..." Gavin began to strum a gentle, mid-tempo song which changed chords as subtly as a sunrise changes colors. I smiled. "It's already a hit," I joked.

"Only after you start singing," he smiled, still looking down at his guitar. I sat down next to him, blushing but unable to contain my embarrassed humor. "Oh, God, what a corny line, it's like you're in a boy band." 

Gavin stopped strumming and looked up at me. I could see he found my humor amusing, but there was a little bit of a glow in his eyes. I would have blamed it on the hazy dust-colored wash of the heat lamps' light if it hadn't seemed like a projection of his feelings; right from his eyes into mine, like a beam of starlight.

"Gav?"

He leaned forward slowly then, over his guitar, over my knees, and rested his hand over my own. Close to my face, close enough that his fringed hair and my own long locks obscured the light between us, his breath was on my jawline, light and warm. I closed my eyes, not knowing if he was going to kiss me. I could tell he was still looking at me; I could feel that beam of starlight penetrating my eyelids, as if I was dreaming about the sky.

His breath seemed to stop, as if preceding a sentence, but then he craned further forward and rested his head in the crook of my neck.

"I'll tell you later," he said. He turned his head and pecked my neck, then leaned back in his chair, taking his guitar in his hands to play.

"Okay," I smiled at him, not sure what was going on but not wishing to pressure him.

"So it's your birthday soon," he said, changing the subject as he strummed. "What do you wanna do for it?"

"O-oh," I stuttered, thinking back to the half-dozen birthdays I'd spent with Matthew as my sole companion other than my parents, "I'm not sure. I haven't really had a birthday party since I was in elementary school, or even done anything..."

Gavin sat upright in his seat, pressing his palms flat over the strings of his guitar. "Are you kidding? Well, that's changing immediately."

"Uhhh..."

"It's gonna be great, Alex, don't worry. You're going to have the best birthday ever. I promise." He reached out and squeezed my hand at the same moment the bell rung for the next period.

"Ooh, we didn't actually get much songwriting done," Gavin said as he slung his guitar over his shoulder with his backpack. "We'll be at it next time. Shall I walk you to lunch?" He held his elbow out with a theatrical motion toward the door. I played along.

"Why, certainly, my good gentleman," I replied, as Gavin laughed at my stupid fake accent.