Mountains and Mourning

Elena stood at a black river, looking down upon it with empty eyes. On either side of her stood black trees with moon-white leaves, fluttering delicately in the wind. One flew into her hair, and she reached up, took the leaf out, and then placed it in the rapids. She watched as it floated away, bobbing up and down.

Her bare feet dug into the ground, gray mud with white speckled in the grooves. She glanced down and saw gray blades of grass tickling her toes, scraping ever so slightly. She looked at the river again and saw white fish swimming leisurely in the waters. She thought it looked like stars in the night sky.

The rock beneath her dug into her thighs, slowly tearing into the silk of her dress. She didn’t mind, just toyed with the bouquet in her pale hands. The glowing lilies emitted the softest scent, and she inhaled deeply, trying to get the scent of flowers into her lungs. She closed her eyes, hearing the forest around her, the ruffling of nature.

In front of her, beyond the river, stood a grand hill, spotted here and there with white flowers, looking so small against the roaring black mass. To her back, a single rock pathway snaked into the forest's heart, the only way out of her little cave. A huge canopy of leaves and vines formed a dome above her, entwined with gray blooms. Sunlight shone in beams, hitting the ground and making everything aglow.

Butterflies flew around her, occasionally landing on her arms and on the bouquet, the white and black wings fluttering gently. Their legs tickled her skin, and she inhaled again, the smell of heavy air and condensation filling her lungs, replacing the sweet smell of lilies. She shook her head, stood up, and walked up to the river, stopping just in time to feel the splash of water against her toes.

She stared into the river, fighting against the burning in her eyes and the tightness of her throat. She tossed the bouquet into the waters, the petals looking like the moon against the night sky. The currents whisked it away, and soon, the flowers were gone, the only remainder of them catching onto rocks and seaweed. The flowing rapids, rolling black ink, seemed so normal, everything besides the color.

Two days ago, the water was crystal blue, the grass emerald green, the sky a pastel blue. That same day, her brother and she had swam in the waters, laughing and splashing water on each other. His grin was as bright as the sun, his black hair stuck to his face. He had shoved a wave towards her and yelled,

“You are not beating me, Elena!”

She had just laughed, swimming over to him and dunking his head under the water. He swatted her hand away, the perks of being three years older. At that time, he had been 19, getting ready to go to college. Yesterday, he should have been driving to school, his bags in his trunk and humming along to the radio.

But life always changes. Things that seem to be set in stone have a way of becoming loose and murky before fading away altogether.

Elena had been walking out of the river and towards the towel, grabbing a towel from the bucket and drying her hair.

“What do you want to do now, Xan? We could go back home, but I think Mom’s boyfriend might be there right now…,” she said, faltering as she failed to hear Xander’s snark response. She also heard no movement, no splashes of water.

She slowly turned around, the towel slipping from her fingers. Xander was face-down in the water, no water bubbles surrounding him. His tan arms were spread wide, small waves lapping over him.

“Xander!” Elena screamed. She dove in, shaking him, flipping him to his back. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. She placed shaking fingers under his nose and felt no air, no breath. She felt his pulse, now shaking from head to toe. There was none.

“No! No, no no!” she wailed, placing her forehead on his unmoving chest. The skin was like stone, cold and hard.

That day, the world lost its color.

***

“Elena, darling? Dinner’s ready,” her mom’s voice drifted up the stairs. Elena sighed, placing down her paintbrush, her arms and fingers covered in paint. Painting was incredibly hard now, but color made no difference. As long as it had a shape and meaning, it looked the same to her.

The painting she drew today was a mountain scenery, the type her brother had always loved.

“When I get older, I’m living in the mountains. Free, open, flowing air. I wonder if that’s what a bird feels like,” he had always said. His eyes glazed whenever he talked about the mountains, his face turning soft and wistful. She would always make mountain paintings for him, and his face would light up with joy, pulling her into a hug.

Those days were over, washed away like those currents. Xander’s smile and laughter, his strong arms as he hugged her, were long gone.

Elena went down the stairs to see her mother in the kitchen, rubbing her hands on an apron. Selena was always a beauty, with long, black hair, and big green eyes. She had been a model in her 20s, but after Xander was born, she went out of the business, becoming a full-time mom, a few freelance gigs tossed here and there.

Selena looked at her daughter, all expressions gone, her face sad and grave. She sat at the table, Elena following suit. They began their lunch of chicken roast, the only sound the scrapping of silverware and slight chewing.

“Elena, I would like to talk with you about something,” Selena began slowly. Elena just lifted her head and met her mother’s eyes, a dark emerald. To Elena, it was a dull gray, none of that swirling color.

“About what?” she said blandly.

“See, honey, Xander’s funeral is in two months,” she said, watching Elena’s face carefully. A flash of despair and sadness, and then it was gone, placed behind that empty mask.

“I was thinking, during those two months, you could go visit your father in Colorado. A change of scenery would be amazing for you, sweetheart.”

Elena stood abruptly, her face a living flame, the first sign of emotion since two days ago. She looked at her mother, livid, stepping away and slamming her chair to the table, rattling the bowls.

“No,” she said, spitting out the word. She stormed upstairs, slamming her door shut. Selena put her face in her hands, shaking with sobs.

At that moment, the Cross family felt more distant and torn than ever.

***

Elena sat on her floor, her back pressed against the wooden door, secret tears slipping down her face and pooling onto her shirt.

Elena’s room was always her calm place, a place where her mind was clear and she was able to think. The walls were a soft white, like the color of the moon. A blue canopy spread across her bed, shimmering in the afternoon sun. On either side of her bed were two wooden shelves, laden with books and trinkets Xander and she found. In the right corner stood a desk, her computer and multiple papers strewn around the surface. To the right of the desk was a door, leading to her bathroom and closet.

Whenever Elena was in her room, it was like the sky. Everything was blue and white, and at night, her ceiling shone with makeshift stars. It was like being in the mountains that Xander always dreamed of.

Now, it was various shades of gray and white, looking like a cloudy morning atop a hill.

She thought and thought about her mother’s offer, her eyes growing redder and her shirt growing wetter with salt.

This place, the house, the town, and even that alcove in the forest, were all places that she and Xander had explored together. They were all marked with his smiles and joy, everlasting excitement.

To leave, to go to Colorado, a foreign place, and live with her dad, so soon after his death… it felt like a betrayal, really. As if she was ditching the place Xander has ever known.

Guilt spread across her heart, filling those holes that were made with his death. She inhaled deeply, the smell of jasmine, Xander’s scent, slowly suffocating her as surely as the guilt. She coughed, but none of it went away. She had a feeling it never would, or would if she declined the offer with more meaning, maybe a proper explanation.

Standing up, her fingers on the doorknob, she took a deep breath. This time, the jasmine cocooned her and protected her, instead of choking her. Almost as if Xander was there, engulfing her in his arms, putting his chin on her head.

“It’ll be okay,” she could hear him murmur as she stepped into the hall.

***

“Mom, I-” she tried to say. Selena brought up her hand, taking Elena’s hand in hers.

“Sweetie, I understand. Xander- he- was my son,” she said, her eyes lined with silver. Elena brought her mother into a hug, and they just sat on the couch, engulfed in grief and understanding.

Xander was the light of the house. After their parents split, although it was nowhere near divorce, her father moved to Colorado, his jokes and humor kept everyone afloat. He was the only thing keeping them from falling into a deep, dark place.

Now, he is gone. His dreams of college and mountains disappeared, as surely as him. And there was nothing they could do about it.

“I want you to live with your dad because you need a coping mechanism. Something to keep you busy. If you stay here, stay in the same place Xander had once been, then it will pull you under.”

Elena nodded slightly. She somewhat understood her mother, somewhat understood the need to get out and start fresh. But so soon, after his death… it felt like she was abandoning him. She couldn’t do that.

But she imagined what Xander would have said. And she knew, with every fiber in her being, that all he ever wished for was her happiness. She would fulfill that wish, even if it tore at her soul.

Why should I be happy when he is gone?

Elena pulled away from her mother’s arms. They looked at each other, brown into green, both empty and longing.

“If I go to Colorado, where will you go?” she asked her mother. Selena frowned slightly, her eyebrows furrowing, just like Xander when he was thinking.

“I can stay at Phil’s house, I guess,” she mused softly. Phil was her boyfriend, living in the city a few hours away. She only met him once, with Xander, and she could remember his huff of laughter when he saw Phil.

“Looks like a caveman, right, Lena?” he had asked her, smirking. She giggled.

Elena completely agreed. Selena is a small woman, strikingly beautiful yet quiet. You have to coax emotions out of her, and even that was done reluctantly. She was always clean and orderly, so fragile, like the smallest shout could shatter her. She handles her grief in the way Elena expected her to. Quiet, keeping to herself, trying to show a brave face for her daughter.

Phil was tall, burly, and had a long beard. He was loud, preferred to play poker with his friends, and drank a lot of beer. She hated him, but somehow, he made her mother happy. And that is all she wants.

“Okay. I guess- I’ll start packing,” she murmured, getting up from the couch. She felt her mother’s thin hand on her arm, and Elena turned.

When she did, she was struck by her mother’s image. Somehow, over the course of two days, she had grown thinner, looking more fragile than ever. At that moment, Elena realized that Xander’s death had hit her mother the hardest.

She had given up her career for him. She had been on the road to becoming a famous, amazing model, but she gave that all up for her baby boy. The baby boy that was the light of her life, the brother to her baby girl. And now he was gone.

Elena’s eyes were glazed with tears. Her mother noticed and stood, wiping the few that escaped.

“I love you, darling,” she whispered, kissing her daughter’s forehead. Elena’s voice trembled as she said, “I love you more.”

***

The moment she had stepped off of the plane, a sickening dread snaked up her heels before taking home in her heart. On the cab ride to her father’s street, she carefully deflected all of the driver’s questions, her head against the foggy glass.

Now, she trudged up the street. She breathed through her nose, the air sharp like thousands of frozen crystals, gently piercing sensitive skin.

The street was bland and empty. Just a road with small houses on either side, small and packed together, like toys in a box. The roofs were rusted, the porches cracking, the flowers wilting. Depressing was the only word she could think of that described this place. She didn’t think that maybe her loss of color led her to this conclusion.

She looked at the shaking piece of paper in her hands. On it was a single address, 17693 Brushwood Drive. The place her father lived.

She stopped in front of the home. Its paint was chipped in places, rotting wood protruding from the paint. The porch was broken, just shards of wood and metal beams laying on the sickly grass. The flowerbed in the front, side to the stairs, was full of weeds, snaking into the foundation of the house. The white stairs led up to the bronze door, a gleaming doorknob in the center. The only part of the house that had some humanity left.

Her father was a disgusting person, never cleaned up after himself, so this house was expected. But she couldn’t stomach the thought that she was to live in the dump for two months.

Holding in her gag from the rotten stench, she advanced the steps, the wood creaking and twisting under her shoes. She ran the pads of her fingers through the wood, small splinters piercing her skin. She pulled back, her fingers throbbing, small droplets of blood already showing.

Standing in front of the door, Elena took a breath, her fingers shivering in the afternoon breeze.

Raising a pale hand, she knocked. Once, twice. She took a step backward, using her sweater sleeve to cover her stinging nose.

And then, the door creaked open, and her entire life blew away with the figure standing behind it, slinking into the wet wood.

She looked about ten, shining hair hanging in ringlets, eyes big and innocent, full lips, flushed cheeks. Elena resisted the urge to grimace.

When Elena looked at the little girl, she saw her father’s curly hair and the same big eyes.

And then, a man stood behind the little girl, a shaking hand on her shoulder, drawing her to him. The man was skinny, almost like a stick, his face and eyes sunken, his entire life force wilting away, the girl the only anchor holding him from death.

And when Elena looked in her father’s eyes, and he looked back, utter despair and an unwillingness to live entwined in ribbons of black and white, she felt as if the world had been taken from under her feet.

***

“You can sleep here,” her dad muttered, closing the door behind him, leaving her trapped in this room. A single bed, nightstand, and lamp graced the wooden floors, and she shifted her weight, rubbing her temples to block a building headache.

Sighing softly, she dropped her bags on the floor, bending over and taking out stacks of folded clothes, placing them in a corner. She put her phone and computer on the bed, a small jewelry box on the nightstand. Standing up, she surveyed the room, nodding slightly before leaving.

Her father’s house was small and dull, the downstairs consisting of a living room, kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom, all interconnected by the same hallway. The upper floor consisted of two bedrooms and a bathroom, the former the same size as the latter. The walls were gray, all the furniture black, the scent of smoke and stale beer wafting up and down the stairs, filling her lungs with a rotten musk.

She sat on an old couch, feeling all the springs and beams underneath her thighs. In front of her stood a slouching coffee table and small television, now playing a newsreel.

She listened to the rustling in the kitchen. Her dad was pouring something into a bowl, and the little girl was whining.

“Why does she have to live with us?” she wailed, and her father shushed her quickly.

“She is my daughter, Gracie,” he said, his voice soft and open, nothing like the sharp and empty tone in which he spoke to her. Elena’s jaw clenched at the tenderness.

“She doesn’t seem nice! I don't want her!” Grace screamed. Elena’s hands closed into fists, her blood slowly boiling. A dull rage filled her head, and she shook with the effort to not cry. Cry or shout, she didn’t know.

“Gracie, that’s not nice,” he said. Yet, his voice didn’t sound scolding. Elena could have sworn there was a hidden laugh.

Something inside her snapped with that tone. She stormed into the kitchen, taking in her father holding a bowl of chips.

“Do you think I want to be here?” she screamed at him. His eyes widened, and Grace hid behind his legs.

“Stop that, you’re scaring her,” he snarled. There, there was the commanding and superior tone he always used when talking to her and her brother. Elena’s vision was clouded in red.

“Do you think I give a crap about her?” she yelled. Grace started crying. “She isn’t some saint, Harry! She is a brat, just like you,” she growled. Elena’s father stepped forward, rage shining clear in his eyes. She knew he cared more about Grace than her entire family combined.

“Do you think you’re better than everyone, Harry? Do you think being a piece of vermin makes you a god?”

Harry’s face turned blood red, and he reached behind him, pulling Grace to him as if to protect her from Elena. “Don’t you dare talk to your father like that,” he snarled.

Elena couldn’t stop the tears that ran down her face. “You are a horrible person, and even a more horrible father,” she said, her voice trembling yet steady.

And with, she stormed to the front door, opened it, and slammed it shut with all the strength she could muster.

As she walked down the steps, she could barely make out Grace’s crying and Harry’s voice, soothing her.

And with that, her entire body shaking with years of suppressed rage, she stomped onto the street, leaving the house and the two people inside of it behind.

***

Elean sat on a metal bench overlooking a pond speckled with lotus flowers. Since she left the house, she found this place, completely secluded, just an abandoned crevice of the neighborhood. She tipped her head back, her nape resting against the cool metal, and was about to think and brood until a voice startled her to sit straight.

“Mind if I sit here? Sorry, if I scared you,” a boy added after seeing her shocked face. In the span of a few seconds, she surveyed him from head to toe before saying, “Go ahead.”

He was tall and had a muscular build, veins running up and down his exposed arms. Black shirt, sweatpants, dirty Converse, a silver ring on both of his thumbs. He has a kind yet striking face, clear eyes, sharp jaw, and full lips. His hair, a bright black to her, was intentionally messy, a few strands brushing over his thick lashes. His voice was deep yet carried laughter, his entire body radiating easiness. He twisted to look at her and smiled, a single dimple appearing on his right cheek. Despite herself, she smiled back.

“My name’s Matt Spring. Yours?” he asked.

“Elena Cross,” she said, turning her eyes back to the pond, trying to concentrate on the lotuses instead of the way his knee was inches away from her own, his lemon scent driving away the smell of rotting grass.

“Cross?” he asked, his voice shifting into curiosity. She turned her head to see him looking at her, surveying her. Her cheeks heated slightly under his gaze.

“Yeah?” she said, and then he snapped his fingers, looking at her in wonder.

“You’re Harry Cross’s daughter, aren’t you? I can see the resemblance,” he mused. Her throat thickened at the sound of her father’s name, but she nodded.

“Damn. No offense or anything, but your father is the neighborhood lunatic. Screams at everyone who steps on his grass, and his daughter, Grace… well, don’t even get me started on her,” he muttered, wringing his hands together.

Elena laughed, and Matt smiled. “None taken, trust me. I hate him as much as you do.”

Matt shook his head, staring into the pond. “Grace looks nothing like you. If you don’t mind me asking, why is that?”

Elena hesitated. Matt was nice, but a stranger nonetheless. But still… there was something about him, his easy nature, that made her trust him.

“My parents sort of split when I was five. It wasn’t really divorce though. My mom and I stayed in New York and my dad moved here. He probably had an affair with somebody else,” she said. Matt frowned. She couldn’t mention Xander. Not yet.

“Dirtbag,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers through his hair. She looked at him, a slight fluttering in her stomach. He turned to her and smiled.

“Can I have your number?” he blurted out. Elena’s cheeks heated and he grinned sheepishly, looking straight at her, never wavering.

“Sure,” she said, smiling slightly. His face lit up with joy, and throughout that day, they sat on the metal bench, talking, the boiling in her blood cooling with every passing laugh.

***

Elena was on her bedroom floor, her head in her hands, sorting through memory over memory with Xander.

His eighth birthday, where she snuck into his room at midnight and poured a bucket of ice-cold water on him. Even at the age of eight, his cursing would make a sailor proud.

Her eighth birthday, where he had repaid the favor. She had chased him throughout the house, throwing various objects at him while he laughed.

When they discovered the alcove in the forest, she had been twelve, he fifteen. The second they found it, he had done a cannibal straight into the river, shaking his head like a dog, sending droplets of crystal water flying everywhere, landing on the thick leaves.

Now, those are gone. When she thought of them, she forgot the sound of his laugh. The mere thought of his voice sent her mind straining, even though it has been only three weeks since his death.

Death. Death. Something permanent, something irreversible. Xander would never walk through the front door again, he would never hug her, he would never… he would never…

Her breath hitching, Elena knelt on the floor, her forehead on the rusty carpet. Digging her fingers into her hair, she could feel a scream building up.

No, no, no. These were the words she repeated. Her mind shattered into a million pieces, her soul got ripped apart by the same hands that had dragged her brother under, the hands of Death himself.

The scream escaped. She cried and cried, her breathing falling into uneven patterns, her chest stinging, her mouth flooding with blood as she bit down on her tongue to prevent the screams from filling her ears.

And when Elena shattered on the floor, no warm hand rested upon her shoulder to bring her back.

one week later

Elena sat on the couch, her hands in her lap, a building panic rising in her. Harry sat on the chair next to her, wringing his bony hands and not looking in her direction. Grace was upstairs, much to her dismay. Tears and screaming followed after he had locked her in her room, but the promise of ice cream and the threat of grounding soothed her.

Harry cleared his throat, and she glanced at him.

“Listen, Elena,” he started. She glared at him, and he grimaced slightly, his lips clamping together in a thin line.

She took a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. In, out, in, out.

She repeated the process until the ringing left, and then she began.

“I am very confused, Dad. Why… why are you like this?” she asked, her voice cracking. There were dozens of things she could have said, better things, but this was the question that had ensnared her mind since she was five.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Her cheeks heated and her chest tightened painfully. “As if you don’t know,” she whispered, trying to hide her shaking hands. Her father rubbed at his face, closing his eyes. At that moment, he looked small, insignificant, just a living thing in a rotting house.

“Lena, you have to understand. In New York, I…” he tilted his head back, taking deep breaths. Just like Selena had told the family to do when they are nervous or anxious.

“I’m listening,” Elena said. And she was. Sincerely, with all her heart, she was. Her father, at this moment, looked so sad, so broken, she just couldn’t handle it, couldn’t harbor those years of hate against him.

“During high school, things were rough. I was constantly bullied for my looks and the small amount of money my family had. Things started to get worse, and I had to go to therapy sessions because of my anxiety and eating disorder. Your mother, Selena, was my only friend. Believe me, Elena, when I say I love her. I love her so much, and I still do. We talk every day, and sometimes, we fall asleep together over facetime,” Harry said, smiling softly.

“When your mom and I got out of high school, we went to college and rented an apartment together. Your mom was nineteen when she got pregnant with Xander.”

“I was terrified. I had never felt so much fear until that moment, but I didn’t abandon her. I never have, and even when I moved here, it was both of our decisions.”

“Three years later, you were born. Your mother had been at the height of her modeling career, but when Xander and you were born, she gave it all up. She wanted to be a full-time mom. She was fine with working small jobs if it meant she got to spend more time with her children. And I was okay with whatever made her the happiest.”

“It started when you were five, Xander eight. My anxiety and anorexia came back, worse than ever. I was struggling. So much. Even more than in high school. New York… it’s busy and loud, and even though it is beautiful, it can be negative and dangerous. At that point, I just wanted to quit everything.”

“Your mother convinced me otherwise. She came up with the idea to move to Colorado, someplace where I could start fresh. She was so happy when I told her that I wanted to start a family here. She was there when Grace was born. She was there for every big moment in my life. So, Elena, to answer your question from before, I am like this because I have been struggling my whole life, and I am just starting to accept myself. I am just starting new, and I need time to adjust. I promise, in the future, I will become the father you need me to be.”

It was so quiet. Elena looked at her father in a new light. Here was the man whose life was so hard for him, but never fully gave up. He was a teenager when his girlfriend got pregnant, but he didn’t abandon her. It had been Selena’s idea for him to move here because all Selena wished for in life was for her family to be happy.

“I was devastated when I found out about Xander. He had always known me as a horrible father, a man who abandoned his family, and I can never make things right. So, for you, Elena, I want to try. I want you to know that your father loves you.”

Harry had gotten up and sat with Elena when he talked. Now, holding her hand with tears in his eyes, Elena cried. All the rage washed away with every passing tear.

“I love you too, Dad,” she said, hugging him.

And with that hug, the Cross family was becoming one again, stitch by stitch.

***

“I am so proud of you,” Matt beamed, pulling Elena into a hug. For the past month and a half, they’ve been meeting at the pond, skipping stones, or just talking. Over time, she had come to tell him some of her life. Despite how supportive and loving he was, she refrained from telling him about Xander. She doesn’t think she’s ready to discuss it with anyone else.

Aside from her father, of course. They talked every morning after he dropped Grace to daycare. Every day, every hour, she came to love her father more and more. She understood his struggles, and their morning talk usually ended with tears and hugs. She didn’t mind.

Matt had been the person to give her the idea to talk to her father in the first place. Now, with him standing before her, his arms around her hips and his wide grin, she felt as if she stood atop a mountain, no leash tethering her to the world, reality.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, digging her face into his chest. Over the month of talking and laughing, they had become really close. By no means were they dating, but they weren’t so far from that finish line. It’s as if they are two lost puzzle pieces, and someone has finally found them. The last part was to connect them.

“You did most of the heavy lifting,” he whispered into her hair. She closed her eyes at the deep rumble of his voice, how soft and caring it was.

She wasn’t fixed. Not yet. Some broken pieces can be glued together, but that doesn’t mean you can’t see the small fissures. She was healing, slowly yet surely. The big step is to go back to New York next week. The final confrontation.

Matt pulled away slightly, removing his arms from her hips to cup her face. When she opened her eyes, she couldn’t believe it.

His eyes were a bright green, like the clearest emerald. They were shining in the afternoon sun, the rays of sunlight bouncing off them, his eyes like glittering jewels.

His skin was like gold, shimmering along with his eyes. Veins ran up and down his arms, meeting at his fingertips. She touched his cheek in wonder, his skin heating, a single dimple forming there.

She pulled away, looking around. The pond was a shining blue, reflecting the pastel sky and clouds. The grass was lush and rustling in the wind, and the stones just a foot from her were round and smooth. Birds chirped, singing sacred songs to their newborns, the wind singing along.

To her right, the street was bursting with color. The houses were the colors of the rainbow, and though the age definitely brought it down, it still sprang with liveliness. The flowers along the sides boasted pastel petals, shining like freshly cut jewels that burst from the ground, like Hades’s garden for Persephone.

She looked back at Matt, her eyes lined with silver. She could see color. She could see. After months of colorless vision, the world just a dull and depressing gray, the world now burst with colors and beams of light, coaxing new life out from underneath the ground.

“What's wrong?” he asked, alarmed by her turn of emotions. She just hugged him, pressing her face into the hard muscle of his chest. She felt his hands on her waist, his face buried into her hair, breathing gently.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said softly, rejoicing in this new colorful world.

***

Elena felt a gentle prodding at her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open, the smell of an airplane filling her with cool and fresh air. A cotton blanket draped over her, yet she couldn’t remember the scratchy feeling when she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

“We’re almost here, Lena,” she heard a deep voice whisper in her ear. Twisting to the side, she saw Matt, a pair of headphones around his neck, a small iPod in his hand. He smiled when she woke, taking her hand with his free one.

“I am so tired,” she said groggily. Matt laughed, leaning his head back.

“Tell me how you managed to persuade me to come to New York with you,” he said, his voice teasing. Elena just grinned, pulling off the blanket with her free hand. The cold air assaulted her, raising goosebumps. She immediately pulled the blanket back on.

“I’m just special like that,” she said, yawning. Matt’s face turned serious, his green eyes digging into her brown ones.

Ever since she got her color back, she saw the world in a whole new light. For instance, her father’s house. When she first arrived, it had been broken down and just sad, shades of dark and light gray. With her color, she saw it was far from that.

The walls were a soft yellow, the furniture was a bright Victorian. The bookshelves sported books with rainbow-colored spines, the kitchen was bright, the tiles freshly washed. The rooms, however small, had bright wallpapers, ranging from blue to yellow. It was like this house made an effort to stay happy.

Now, looking into Matt’s eyes, she felt giddy, happy. A whole new world for her to explore.

“What’s the real reason we’re here, Lena?” he asked softly. Her happiness washed away in cold currents.

She looked away, turning to the window. Just a blanket of clouds, puffy and white, met her eyes.

She felt gentle fingers around her chin, guiding her face to meet Matt’s. He removed the hand, tracing her knuckles in soothing motions.

“You can tell me. I promise,” he said, his voice but a whisper of breath. She nodded to herself, knowing that this promise was true. Over the course of two months, they have become unnaturally close. She had a feeling that telling him the truth about Xander in the air would be better than on the ground.

“Um, so,” she started. Matt’s hand wrapped around her’s, completely hiding it from view. He traced his thumb across her wrist, his eyes digging into hers. He smiled softly.

Taking a deep breath, she started. She told him about Xander, how special he was to her, his death, and the way she lost color after. Matt never interrupted, tears starting to form when she described him. And when she was done, Matt drew her into a hug, his strong arms acting as an anchor, pulling her to him. And when he muttered into her hair, “It’ll be okay,” she trusted him with all her heart.

***

Elena was sitting on a bench, fiddling with the black silk of her dress, reliving the past hour again and again.

When she and Matt came to the funeral site, her mother instantly rushed to her. Selena ran an eye over her daughter, deeming her to be alright, and then pulled her into a hug.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered. To Elena’s right, Matt smiled softly, giving Elena reassurance. She couldn’t muster a smile back, but she did hold his hand throughout the whole service.

Xander had always had a lot of friends, something Elena had always envied him for, but today, only the closest of his friends arrived. They all wore black suits with white ties, giving Elena a hug and patting her arm. Alex and Blake, Xander’s best friends since they were born, were crying. Elena gave them a longer hug than the others.

Her mother had asked who Matt was, and she told her. Afterward, she hugged Matt, saying thank you for helping her daughter. A lot of hugs were exchanged today.

The actual funeral was the hardest. Family and friends went up to the stand to speak about Xander, his legacy. When it was Elena’s turn, her throat tightened.

“Xander Cross was my brother. He was kind, caring, and sometimes annoying.” A few laughs at that. “He always knew how to make someone happy even on their saddest days. He was a light that can never be extinguished, even now. I’m pretty sure, in the afterworld, he is looking down upon us with a huge smile. Xander Cross is someone who will always be loved. And I am proud to call him my brother.”

Applause. She got down and saw her mother crying. Elena walked over and held her mother’s hand.

“I miss him,” Selena said, looking at the coffin that was being lowered down to the ground. “I miss him so much.”

Elena rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, her heart tightening, rivers of tears snaking down her cheeks.

“I know all he wants is for us to be happy,” she said, looking at Selena. “And we will grant him that wish.”

“Yes we will,” she said, her voice stronger now.

Elena felt a pair of strong hands on her waist. She turned around, and Matt smiled slightly.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Elena put her hand on his chest, looked at him, and smiled. It would take time, maybe years, but healing like this will take time. And she was okay with that. Xander would always be with her. Family never leaves family, in essence or in soul.

“I will be,” she said. And it was the truth.

FIVE YEARS LATER

“Wake up,” Matt said gently. Elena twisted in the bed, pulling the blankets to her side. Matt laughed under his breath.

“Gimme five minutes,” he heard her mumble under the covers. He rolled his eyes.

“Fine. If you want to be late to Selena’s, be my guest,” he prodded. He heard a low grumble, and Elena sat up, rubbing her face, shielding her eyes from the sun with a pale hand.

Matt always loved how she looked in the morning. Her black hair was messy, knotted in spots. Her face was flushed, her eyes droopy and tired. He loved her like this because this was the real her. And only a few people got the pleasure to see the real her.

Ever since the funeral five years ago, she’s tried so hard to make a normal life. And when he proposed… well, let’s say he had never seen her so happy.

When he first saw her that day on the bench, something drew him to her. Maybe it was how sad she looked, sitting by herself, just staring at the pond with an empty expression, but he still went to her.

He always thought of them as two lost puzzle pieces that were found. All they needed was a connection.

And when he proposed to her, that day on the mountain, they snapped together.

Before, Elena always told him how Xander loved mountains, how obsessed he had been. And how she always wanted to see one.

So he planned a trip to Vermont to climb Mount Mansfield. And when they reached the peak, he knelt on one knee and proposed to Elena.

That had been two months ago. Neither one of them was in a rush to actually plan a wedding, so they bought a penthouse in New York.

Now, with Elena sitting next to him in their bed, he couldn’t resist his grin.

“How can you be happy on a Sunday morning?” she asked, her voice heavy with sleep. Her thin fingers worked out the knots in her hair, occasionally missing. He reached over and helped her.

“Because you’re with me,” he said, grinning. Elena always blushed when he said something cheesy, and this time, she didn’t disappoint.

She stopped combing her hair, placing her head on his chest.

“I am so tired,” she mumbled. Matt traced circles on her shoulder. “Do we have to go to my mom’s house?”

Matt chuckled. “Get up and do something. You know you’re always so lazy in the morning.”

“Jerk,” she muttered. Matt laughed again, and Elena smiled back, climbing out of bed.

Standing at the foot of the bed, she placed her hands on her hips, scowling at him. Beams of sunlight shone through her hair, turning the strands into various shades of copper and red. Her brown eyes were a soft chocolate, glowing with flecks of gold. Matt always thought she looked the prettiest in the morning.

“If you forced me to get up, you should too, you know,” she chided. Matt grinned and got up, padding over to her. She put her hands on either side of his neck, smiling. He twined his hands around her back, one hand playing with her hair.

“What should we do after we’re done visiting your mom?” he asked, resting his chin on her head. She leaned into him, breathing deeply.

“We can go to a cafe,” she said idly. “Or the park. Or a museum.”

“You know we have school tomorrow, right?” he asked. She groaned into his chest, pulling back. Matt took one look at her pouty face and burst into laughter.

They had both enrolled in a community college in August. Matt loved it so much, but Elena was more subdued, always complaining about how mean her professors were.

“Why did you have to ruin the mood?” she asked, rolling her eyes. Matt bent down and kissed her cheek.

“Come on. Let’s get ready,” he said, pulling her arm. She didn’t move.

“Matt?” she asked. Her voice sounded soft, content.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He pulled her to him, saying into her silky hair, “I love you too.”

And with those words, Elena Cross started crying, the amount of love radiating from Matt filling her healing heart.

And above them, in the clouds, Xander Cross smiled down upon his sister, his own heart swelling with pride.