I looked away from her to the green wall, to the garbage can by the door overflowing with things that had made Wyn who she was: band t-shirts, feather earrings, posters. I stared at the pieces of her broken heart, crumpled and tossed away, my heart breaking right alongside her.
A deep rumble of thunder vibrated through the abbey, this one bigger than the others had been, and my focus pulled from what I had been saying to what I needed to say. What I needed to help her with.
“I know,” I said, my voice soft as my heart rumbled painfully with what I was about to say.
I breathed in and closed my eyes, my magic stretching away to make sure I still had time before Ilyan and Thom arrived, only to sense them stalled a few feet before the door. I needed to make this quick.
“When Ilyan kisses me, I feel like my whole soul is going to fly away into Heaven. His touch is like a numbing fire; his passion is so encompassing that I don’t feel like anything could drag him away from me, that even death couldn’t take away the way I feel for him.”
I had begun with the intention of speaking very fast—of giving in to her request in the hopes that she would give in to mine—but the moment I opened my mouth, the memory of Ilyan’s touch, the feel of his lips on mine, pushed through the embarrassment and my voice slowed, my eyes lost in the depth of my memories.
“Wow,” Wyn said as dead-panned as she could possibly manage, her glass perched in her hand as she stared at me. “Thanks for sharing.”
“Wyn,” I practically whined as I stared into her, trying my hardest not to stomp my foot in indignation.
I wasn’t going to let her get away from me that easily. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew exactly why I had said what I had.
I scowled at her as she stared at me, her eyes softening bit by bit until she groaned and set her glass down on the table. Her fingers remained pressed against the condensed surface as she looked into it and her breathing slowed.
I wanted to help her, but I was suddenly beginning to wonder if, instead, I had only caused her more pain.
“I felt the same way. I feel the same way,” she said softly, her focus still on the glass that the tips of her fingers ran over, the soft touch leaving glistening trails on the glass. “But it’s half. One half gone and the other half confused as to whether I ever felt that way in the first place. As to which love was real, or if either of them were.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes, I think it possible to love too much, to hurt too much. To live too many lives. I thought I was all right, but Thom has only confused me more.”
“Wyn?” I stood still as I watched her fingers on the glass, waiting for her to continue, to make sense of the small insight she had granted me.
She never did. She just looked down, her magic ebbing until I couldn’t feel it in the air around me like before. She brought it into her as she broke apart, a feeling I knew all too well.
“Is that why you tore apart your room?” I asked, my soft voice sounding strangely loud in the broken pieces of her heart that the room had trapped around us.
“I don’t know where I fit anymore.”
“Without Talon?” I asked, my tongue tripping over his name, fully aware he had been the elephant in the room until I let it slip from my tongue.
Sure enough, her body tensed, her eyes darting to look away from me to the door on the other side of the room, almost as if she expected Thom and Ilyan to burst through, but they hadn’t moved since I had last felt them.
I could see the pain she still held from her loss in the way she held her body, the sadness and confusion that hid behind her eyes. I wished I could take that loss away; I wished I could make her feel like she wasn’t alone.
The hardest part was that I knew I could. I could take away her pain. I wanted to.
I just wished that she hadn’t hated what I had to say.
“I can still feel his magic inside of you, you know,” I said, careful to speak slowly as I tested the waters for what I had to tell her. “Deep down.”
“You can?” she asked, her eyes widening with a deep desperation that rocked through me.
I nodded, keeping my eyes on hers, begging her to understand; to know I was telling the truth. “You do fit.”
“I don’t,” she said, her focus dropping back down to the glass again. She grabbed it, bringing the foul-smelling liquid to her mouth before she drained it in one gulp, a soft bang echoing through the room as she slammed the cup back down to the table. “It’s complicated.”
“You can tell me. I can get some ice cream.” I plastered a wide smile on my face, even though it felt out of place. I wanted her to smile; I wanted her to feel comfortable enough to tell me. To let me help.
It did the trick; she smiled, and a small laugh escaped her as I repeated the words she had given me. She laughed as I did, the sound of our artificial joy evaporating much faster than I would have liked.
“You’re one of the first friends I have ever had, Jos.” The last of her laugh faded into nothing as she reached forward, wrapping her hand around mine. I held onto her hand tightly, my heart clenching at her words, at the memory of that first day, and of every day since.