Page 78 of A Dead Man's B-Side
The act was up, and I wasn’t enough of an idiot to force it, and so I sighed and went to take another drag. Except, Wolf beat me to it and took the cigarette from between my fingers. “Don’t try stalling again.”
I watched him smoke for a moment, and despite turning his head to blow the smoke out the window, his eyes didn’t leave mine.
If I hadn’t riled him up so quickly, he would not have noticed I was evading. I mentally noted down what would be best for next time.
“When he came to wake me,” I began, tilting my head towards him. “Thanks for that, by the way. Anyways, when he came to wake me, we decided to head to the student lounge for a chat. He just told me some interesting stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” Wolf only sounded curious.
“What happened between you and Rain?” It came out as a question because I wasn’t going to let on the extent of what I knew. Wolf must have been expecting it, preparing for it since this afternoon, because he was ready, albeit taking a moment for himself.
“So… he told you why…”
He didn’t but I nodded anyway, slowly. “I’m sorry if you feel it isn’t his story to tell. I can forget about it if you want.”
Wolf shook his head, a faraway look falling over his face. “No-no… I’ve owned up to my mistakes. It isn’t something I’m ashamed ofor anything. I got sucked into the wrong crowd and Rain didn’t know how to help. You can’t really help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, you know?” He let out a strained chuckle. “But she tried anyway, that isn’t something I’ll ever blame her for.”
I wanted to ask why he continues to hate someone who only tried to help, but I held my tongue. According to myself, I already knew why.
“Except that she tried in the worst way possible. She got me locked up in hell all summer of year two, did Ajax tell you that? That she went ahead and practically plastered my business on the cover of every business, lifestyle, and fashion magazine? … Again, I don’t blame her. But she can’t expect me to… not… hate her.”
He didn’t finish his words, and after a long moment, I found he wasn’t going to speak. Too lost in his own mind.
“Are you proud of who you are today? Or would you have been proud of who you might’ve become without her help?”
Wolf turned to me with a blank expression before forcing on a simple smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t know. The lines always blur between life and death, don’t they?”
He nudged my shoulder, but I didn’t match his smile or share the sentiment. Because, seeing as how I was living today, I wouldn’t have been proud to die in America. I wouldn’t be proud of a goalless life drifting closer to a forgetful existence every day. Everyone who ever remembered me, slowly unable to make up the image of that young boy drifting through their memory.
Until one day, they’d forget there ever was a child they once knew with stark white hair, or brown, or black, with pale blue eyes. An Alex who had a Russian accent yet didn’t speak a lick of the language.
I didn’t want to consider the possibility of returning to that life.
And yet here Wolf was, hesitant to choose between the two.
I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know whether to comfort him, something I wouldn’t be caught dead doing, or to reassure him, also something I wouldn’t be caught dead doing.
And so, I simply lifted my hand and patted his back in an almost mechanical motion. “There, there.”
This time, it was Wolf’s turn to send me a curl of his lips as I slowly pried the cigarette out from his grasp. “I don’t think that’s safe for you right now.”
He reared back at that, shoving my arm away. “Oh my god! I’m not suicidal!”
“Don’t tell me that means you were implying you’ve killed someone, too.”
“You’ve killed someone?”
“I was talking about Ajax.”
“Ajax killed someone?!”
“I thought you knew!”
“Go back, hold on. You’re saying Ajax killed someone? He told you this today?” Wolf held his hands up as his eyes widened at the revelation. Though I didn’t like to think of theories nearing fact as truth, I tilted my head and looked to the sky with a thoughtfulexpression. Ajax hadn’t exactlysaidhe killed someone, but it was so plainly obvious. I tried racking my brain on why someone would hate Fenlon Hall so much, and then it hit me when I approached the doors. Those long-ago wilted chrysanthemums planted along the front wall.
It could only be one of two things.
Guilt or a thirst for more.
