His Little Heir

A Letter You'll Never See

     Daya clasped her hands together in her lap. She bounced her leg as she grabbed at the loose strings in her mind, but none tied together.

     So that's what he meant earlier.

     "Quill-"

     "No, listen to me." He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I don't need you to fight my battles if it means you're gonna get hurt, okay? Promise me."

     "You know I can't do that."

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     Leon rubbed his eyes, and turned to the clock on his nightstand- 10 a.m; how long had he slept? His head fumbled over the fuzzy math, and after a long pause, arrived at the estimate of roughly fifteen hours. Ouch.

     The memories of the day before filled him one by one, and in that same manner, the strings of his heart broke. Not only had Daya chosen to leave him, but quite literally, almost go against him just in a split second. His body ached. Had she packed up and left with her father?

     Could he blame her?

     Leon's heart quickened as his feet collided with the cold floorboards, and he took off in a run. He burst through his own door only to collide full speed into Daya's, sending him wincing with the blow. He didn't know if he should pray that she was in there or not. After all, he had just slammed full force against her door.

     He held his breath until it pressed against his throat, then brought his knuckles to the polished wood.

     No answer.

     Hands shaking, Leon turned the knob. Sweat gathered on his brow as the door cracked open.

     He fumbled for the light switch, "Daya?"

     No answer.

     The room lit up, and all around him were the illuminated signs of relief. All her clothes still hung neatly in her closet, her makeup layed stationarily  scattered from getting ready, and most importantly, the two sapphire rings sat stacked together, hushed in their condemned place behind her jewelry box.

     Daya hadn't left, or atleast, left him for Austin.

     Leon sat on her still unmade black sheets; they smelled like her. A knot formed in his throat as the slight scent of honeyed rose filled every breath he took, for every moment spent close to her flashed before his dewing eyes. Why couldn't they just be okay?

     He fell back into the mattress, lying flat and staring at the ceiling. Was this their reality, distance and sadness? A hot tear slid down his cheek. Leon wiped it away, but another swiftly took its place. He just wanted his arms to be filled with her; he wouldn't care if Daya was angry, or if she screamed at him. Just holding her waist and resting his chin on her forehead- that would be enough.

     Leon reached out his hand. What he thought was a blanket now sat shortly across his chest, and raising it above him sent one more quake across his broken heart.

     His hoodie.

     He sat up and raised the fabric to his face. The scent of her filled him with a sense of warmth, familiarity, and in that moment, he was home. Leon slipped it over his head nearly without thinking, shutting his eyes as he tightened the draw strings.

     "I'm... so sorry. Maybe you wouldn't have thought about leaving if I-"

     Mid-shoving his hands in the pockets, what he thought to be a wrapper crinkled at his touch. Leon clutched it; it was too heavy to be plastic. He brought it to the light, freeing it from the fabric.