83 - Burn

If I can't be close to you

I'll settle for the ghost of you

- Justin Bieber

. . .

Giovanni and I had probably devoured one-fourth of the Creeds' cellar.

I painted a lot. I painted three five feet canvas, which resulted in my hands permanently smelling like oil paint - which wasn't a nice smell.

Giovanni and I talked. He didn't let me fall into the deep end which would have made me unable to leave the bed - instead, he insisted on me getting my feelings out with my colors.

I missed the Creeds terribly. Not talking to them felt like a curse. Their uncle had died. I wanted to make sure if they were okay. I wanted to see how Kylie was doing.

I understood their need for space, and I respected that, but worrying for them and feeling guilty rarely let me sleep.

The kittens were here. Giovanni loved them and much as I did. He was a good friend.

I looked at myself in the mirror. It had been a week since my birthday. I looked like death with dark circles under my eyes, my hair up in the messiest bun ever and my face appearing thinner than usual.

Giovanni had told me that Ashton was coming back in an hour or so.

I hid my dark circles and brushed my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. I wore a sweatshirt and loose blue jeans.

I didn't want him to worry and I knew he'd worry if I looked terrible in front of him.

I cleaned the bottles which were in my room and put them out. Giovanni was down in the basement. There was some game room here, too.

Just when I was about to exit my room after cleaning it, as I rarely let the maids clean it, the door slammed open and Ashton came inside.

His stubble had grown a little. He was dressed in a shirt, the sleeves brunched around his elbows and trousers. On his nose were his glasses.

He looked okay.

I stood still, unsure. "Ashton."

He walked closer. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me, tighter than he ever had. I hugged him back, closing my eyes, feeling at peace in his arms.

He ran his large hand up and down my back. I shivered.

The door opened and Zavier and Xerxes stepped inside. They came towards us, hugging me.

I closed my eyes. We stayed like that. In a few minutes we were on the bed, they held onto me as if I was their everything, I held back tighter, feeling tears burn in my eyes in their silent grief.

Soon enough, Ashton fell asleep with his head on my stomach. Zavier and Xerxes were beside me, holding me so close.

"You're here," Xerxes whispered in his sleep.

I cupped his face, feeling my heart hurt at the lone tear which left his eye. "I'm here."

. . .

Xerxes was not in the bed when I woke up.

I twisted out of Zavier and Ashton's arms. They were sleeping soundly. I walked out of the room and just then I heard it, Xerxes playing the piano.

I followed the sound, walking into the part of the mansion I was yet to discover, and he was in a large room. I frowned. The double door of the room looked burnt. The whole room which must have been ligh colored was dark. The floor looked burnt. The walls looked burnt. The chandelier looked burnt.

And he looked burnt - hurt beyond words.

Sitting there with grace he held well, his fingers were moving on the keys with swiftness which could only be bought by years of practice. Whatever he was playing, it was slow, a perfect melody to the sound of rain echoing in the room from outside.

His eyes were closed, his shirt undone, his hair a mess, and his glasses on his nose.

I watched, mesmerized.

The rings of his fingers flinted in the soft like of the candle which was settled on the piano. The piano itself was burnt, just a little bit of it.

He kept playing. I knew he knew I was there. But he kept playing, letting me glimpse into another secret.

I walked closer when it came to the end.

I stood behind him. His shoulders were tense.

I put my hands on them and the tension melted under my touch. "Harry died," he told me.

I gulped. "I know." "Kylie is injured."

"I know," I whispered.

"My...My mother died in this room." He turned and took me in his arms, his back facing the piano now as he cradled me in his arms.

His eyes were filled with sorrow, deep sorrow. "I felt as if the whole world was burning that day. My father had found out about her affair with a woman she loved. He killed her right here and then he hung mom from the chandelier by a rope, her feet just touching the ground. He forced us out of the room. He lit the whole room on fire and then he listened to her scream for mercy." He ran his hand through my hair. "She died here."

I cupped his face. "Xerxes-"

"He died saving Kylie," He interrupted me, seeming to be unable to stop talking. "A pillar fell on him. They were on the porch. He pushed Kylie out of the way and it fell on him, killing him and shattering Kylie's leg. That..." He gulped. "We should have burned for her, Olivia. We should have died trying to free her."

I didn't speak.

He pressed a kiss on my mouth. "And if we had. Harry would be alive. You wouldn't be in danger. Maybe you'd be with someone worthy of you, Love. Kylie would have her dad." He set his forehead against mine, wiping a tear which has escaped away. "I feel like I'm cursed with failure," he whispered. "I burn what I touch."

"You do-"

"I don't want to burn you." "You won't."

He cracked a smile and I had never seen a smile that haunted. "I will, little love."

. . .

wrote this chapter while listening to a playlist called 'Saying your last goodbye to your comfort character' on youtube so I am totally not crying.