Page 119 of Delirium
Out of nowhere, Storm slapped him on the back of his head—the same thing he did to Atlas when he called me an elephant the other day. It didn’t really bother me because I knew I looked like a whale.
The first couple of months of the pregnancy, my stomach was barely there. But it was as if once I entered the fifth-month mark, the twins decided to make themselves known to the world, and I looked like I swallowed another person with how big my stomach was starting to be.
“What was that for?” Cillian exclaimed, while Atlas chuckled from behind.
“That was for calling my girl a whale,” Storm grunted, not a trace of humor on his face.
“I mean, I kinda do look like a whale.” I laughed, stepping closer to Cillian. My eyes landed on the dark circles around his eyes, the hollowed-out cheeks and the weight he lost in the time since I last saw him, and I wanted to cry for the man I loved.
He was the brother I never had. Theo was just someone I shared blood with, but he never treated me the same way as Cillian did. He never made me feel safe in his presence, but Cillian did. To see him looking like this, struggling… it wasn’t right. I didn’t want him to kill himself while trying to fight his demons.
“Kill,” I mumbled, wrapping my arms around his middle, believing I could wash away the terrors living inside his head with that simple touch. His hands landed on my shoulders, slowly sinking toward my back, fisting my shirt as he hugged me back, pressing his cheek on top of my head.
Words weren’t needed where he was concerned. He didn’t need to tell me about the pain he felt. It was as palpable as thick, humid air, and I hated that there was nothing I could do to make it better. I was a fixer, someone who always tried to find a way to fix other people’s problems even when I didn’t know how to fix my own. The fact that I couldn’t fix Cillian ate me alive.
But one thing I’d learned over the past year was that you couldn’t help a person if they didn’t want to get better. For such a long time, I loved living in my misery, surrounded by sorrow and pain, and I liked it. God, I liked it so much that I never wanted it to end.
Rationally, I knew it wasn’t right. I knew it wasn’t okay and that it could kill me one day, but I still continued, refusing help from the people who cared about me. Until I realized that I couldn’t live like that anymore, that I couldn’t keep pushing away those I loved because I thought I would hurt them by simply being a part of their lives.
“How are you?” I asked, still holding my arms tightly around his middle, wishing I could transfer all the love, all the happiness I was feeling into his body.
“I’m good,” he lied. We were masters at deceiving people who loved us, but I didn’t want to get into another fight with him, not tonight.
Taking a step backward, I looked up at him, frowning as his eyes flashed with dark emotions threatening to swallow him whole. His hands twitched at his sides, a telltale sign that he was still using, still killing himself, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop him.
“Okay,” I murmured, coming closer to Storm who placed his hands on top of my shoulders, giving me strength just by being here. A dark cloud of desperation fell down on us, and it was obvious to everyone around that Cillian was as far away from okay as possible, but no one said a thing.
I looked at Atlas, who kept frowning, looking at Cillian’s back. My eyes connected with Maya, who slowly shook her head, because she could see it too. She could see his struggle, his need to disappear, and I wouldn’t let him.
I couldn’t let someone I considered family disappear in front of my eyes.
“Do I not get a hug?” Kieran asked, grinning at me from the side, breaking through the silence enveloping us. But as I looked at him, at those dark eyes and the handsome face, I recognized the worry there, the need to talk about it, to fix it. I sometimes thought that was what attracted me to Kieran in the first place.
Both of us were fixers, always feeling responsible for those around us. Even when we fucked up, we tried to fix shit. I wondered if he felt the turmoil coursing through Cillian, and I had a feeling he could.
“One hug,” Storm grumbled, squeezing my shoulders, his fingers softly digging into my flesh. “Don’t make me chop off your fingers, Kieran.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Kieran laughed, closing the distance between us just as Storm took a step back, and engulfed me in a bear hug. “You look happy, Birdy,” he murmured.
“I am happy.” I smiled, patting his back. “Really, really happy.”
“I’m glad,” he mumbled.
“Are you?” I asked, as he released me from his hug. “Happy, I mean.”
His eyes lifted, seeking my sister who was still looking at Cillian, as if she could fix whatever was wrong with that one stare.
“No, not yet,” he murmured. “But I will be.”
“I’m counting on it,” I whispered, squeezing his bicep.
“Okay everyone!” Zoe barged in, followed by angry looking Felix. “Chef Storm needs to help me in the kitchen, and the rest of you,” her eyes traveled over all of us, “please go to the living room while we get the food ready. Booze is at the bar.” She looked at me. “Ophelia will show you. Don’t get too drunk without me.” She turned around and started walking back to the kitchen. “God knows I’ll need alcohol to survive tonight.”
Maya chuckled and stepped closer to me. “Is she always this dramatic?”
“Oh no.” I shook my head. “This is a mild version.”
“I think I like her,” she mumbled, looking at the spot that Zoe vacated. “I’m glad you had someone in your corner, a friend.”
