One chapter

+ Epilogue

+ Bonus Chapter (Douglas' POV)

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•••

Daddy's busy.

The silence stretched out following Douglas' words. It was so deafening and loud that it made the very atmosphere sombre and dull.

Douglas' eyes were on me, however despite that there was no light in it. It was him simply looking in my direction, his thoughts most probably twelve years away, in the past, on a single memory.

His face was sombre, filled with so many emotions in one but at the same time, it could be said that it held only one.

Grief.

Sadness.

Loss.

A million thoughts crossed my mind as I studied Douglas.

I wondered what exactly he was feeling right now, having just relived his memory by telling me. I wondered if the memory still pained him as much as did it when it had happened.

People said that time healed all wounds, but there was just some things time couldn't heal. It might help you forget, but it can never truly heal you.

I wondered if he thought it was his fault. If he ever thought of the 'what if's'. What if he had been just a little bit earlier home that day? What if there was no recital and none of it happened? What if he had just stayed home that day? Would it have made a difference? Would it have changed anything? Would his mom still be alive now?

I felt something fall against my cheeks and brushed at it. Water coated my fingers and I wasn't even surprised that a tear had broken through without me noticing.

I felt the urge to offer a solemn gesture to Douglas. A hug, a nod of understanding of a loss or just a smile to say everything will be alright. Or as alright as it could get given the course of the last twelve years.

I couldn't even picture it. Losing a mom for twelve years. Not having her around as you went through your teens years and it's struggles. Not having her be there when you first had a hangover, or when you had your heart broken for the first time or having her there for you, comfortingly say that no one was good enough in her eyes for you.

I lost my parents for only three years. Granted it has been hard, but at least I had them for almost a decade more than Douglas did his mother. I experienced my parents being there for me in situations his mother couldn't be there for him in.

Of course that didn't diminish the pain one experienced with each loss of a parent. Every loss was as painful as the next.

It just made me appreciate what I had, and at the same time made me grief over what Douglas couldn't have.

I released a quiet sigh before I couldn't help but ask the question that had been weighing on my mind ever since he had finished the story. I didn't know how Douglas would react to my question but it was a question I needed to ask nonetheless.

"How could they do that to you?" As soon as the question spilled out, I felt somewhat like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. But it was quickly replaced by a level of foreboding as to how Douglas would react to said question.

Would he react angrily? Would he yell, telling me to leave?

Contrary to my assumptions, shock etched itself on Douglas' face and stayed there for a while. He apparently hadn't expected those to be the first words out of me. He must've expected an apologetic condolence to escaped me, but it wasn't.

I didn't do that because he should've known already how sad and tragic his story was. Of course people would feel sorry for what had happened to him. What I was curious about was, how parents could do what they did to their son?

"They did nothing wrong to me."

A simple enough sentence and I couldn't help feeling that he believed those words. Or at least he had to believe those words. Those words were what he'd been telling himself over the past twelve years.

Words his mother had somewhat insinuated before she passed. That it was just a slight disagreement adult had.

Whatever the disagreement was, in my mind, and I'm pretty sure everyone would believe this, their disagreement had negatively affected their son.

"Your father cared too much for his company. It might not be more than both of you, but it was a close second that your mother felt like she had to compete with his love for his work," my words might have sounded a bit too rash and brusque, but I just felt like Douglas deserved to hear this. "And your mom. I'm sorry Douglas for speaking ill of your mom. I'm sure she was a great mom and all that, but she didn't do a great job towards the end."

"You don't understand anything, Krystal!" His tone was curt, hard as a diamond and dark. But it didn't faze me. I expected some level of animosity from him. Heck if he hadn't been somewhat hurt by my words, I would've thought he didn't care about his mom.

"I understand as much as anyone can to say this. Your mother did the wrong thing going out like that. She shouldn't have done it, knowing you could walk in any second and seen her. She shouldn't have let her only child see that. It's traumatic enough for a grown adult, how much more could it have been for an eleven year old?"

I spotted a tear fall and slowly made its way down his face. "I wasn't her only child," his voice was low, low enough that I almost didn't catch it.

"What are you talking about? You don't have a-"

"She was pregnant," he began, before casting his eyes away from mine, his mouth trembling a moment before he straightened his face, "when she died."

The words were like thunder on a clear sky. Shocking.

My first reaction was to say that I was sorry, that I didn't know.

But before I could even fathom an ounce of hesitation, I was up and had my arms around him.

Douglas didn't hug me back. In fact, he was too stunned to hug me back.

We stayed like that for a short while as we slowly became comfortable again.

"I blame her too sometimes," Douglas said after awhile. "I blame both of them. I blame both of them for the brother or sister I never got because of their decisions. I blame them for the lost moments I could never have with her. I blame them for making me live through that. But there are times, I truly believe what I said. That they did nothing wrong to me. They made their own decisions. Everyone is inclined to their own. Sometimes it might affect others, but you can't help but do then anyway, knowing its the best for you. I think my dad knew his job was affecting mom in a bad way, but he did it anyway. He thought he'd succeed first then be with her, after the success. He thought he'd have enough time to be there for her. But of course he was wrong. Mom thought that she'd rather not be there at all than have to live second best to a business. She didn't care how it would affect everyone, her passing. She made her own decision for her own benefit. I don't hold them accountable for that."

I slowly rubbed his back in a comforting manner, trying to relieve the pain of the past twelve years even though that wouldn't never be truly done.

I pulled back, fixing my eyes on his, trying to make him see that I was being entirely serious. "I'm sorry that you had to live the twelve years believing that Douglas. I really am. But don't blame yourself for anything. I stand by my words. It was their fault."

Douglas smiled a smile that was meant to reassure someone as he place a hand on mine and slowly patted it gently. "I'm glad you came, Krys. I really am. Thanks."

I nodded, smiling brightly. I hadn't expected him to say that, but I liked that he did. "You're welcome, Douglas."

It creeped in slowly, and without me noticing, the atmosphere had changed. Douglas' eyes were drawing me in again, just as it did back at the party, reminding me just how close we were to one another.

I wanted to pull back, take a breather or just run away. But I remembered Alex's words to just face the situation and not run away.

But I knew this was not the right time for me to broach the subject or to even broach anything between us. Not like this and not with him being so vulnerable. And definitely not on his mother's death anniversary.

However, Douglas didn't have the same thoughts as I did. Before I could even bubble up a word, he started leaning in, his intention as clear as a white, blank piece of paper.

I knew he would regret this instantly. I knew he would wonder why he did it later on, especially on a day as solemn as today was. I knew that this wasn't the right time for this to happen, not like this and not with him being as vulnerable as he was now.

He studied me, watching my expression as he leaned in. Just as he's about to kiss me, I turned my face to the side and his lips press against my cheeks.

I felt all the blood in my body rush to my face as it reddenned. I knew I resembled a tomato right now which didn't help alleviate the problem.

Just as I felt like things couldn't get any worse, I feel Douglas' weight press against me and soon after I heard a sound that resembled snoring.

"Douglas?" I tried to push against him, but he didn't budge a bit. "Douglas?"

I came to a conclusion. Douglas hadn't been trying to kiss me after all. He'd lost consciousness and had just leaned in because of it.

I needed to get out of here right now. After getting Douglas off of me, I dialled up Will's number.

He answered after two tries. I told him to come straight to the mansion and that we had a problem. He informed me he'd be at most ten minutes.

I pulled out the recliner off the lazyboy, making Douglas as comfortable as I could get him. He looked so peaceful, unlike the boy that had been so defensive over his mother's loss.

After ten minutes, I heard Will walk into the house. I went out of the living room to meet him.

"Did something happen?" Will said as soon as he saw me. It didn't help that he hadn't even greeted me and that he seemed to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively at me.

"You guys are such idiots!" I snapped as I slapped his arm. "How could you all lie to me like that?"

"Who cares about that?" He smiled when he saw me glaring at him. "So, did something happen?"

I thought of what I had imagined to be Douglas about kiss me, but brushed it away. Fortunately it didn't appear on my face. "Nothing happened other than him chasing me out."

"Really?" Will arched a brow.

"Really. Now I have to go. You take care of Douglas."

"If nothing happened then why does it look like you're running away?"

"I'm not running away. I have to go meet up with Nancy."

"Okay. I believe you."

I didn't bother saying anything back as I walked out of the door as closed the door behind me.

•••

For the next one and a half weeks, Douglas and I acted like nothing had happened that day, on his mother's anniversary.

It was either he had forgotten about it or he was collectively going along with the fact that I too hadn't brought it up.

Every now and then, Will would bring it up, saying how I had called him to come and look after Douglas.

Whenever I looked over at Douglas, he'd be staring back at me. But what usually catches me off-guard is the fact that the way he was staring at me was like he'd long been doing that, long before I had looked at him.

I usually turned away instantly when I did catch him staring at me.

It happened one day, on the first day of August. I was at home that day, Douglas having told me that I was free that day.

However just before I could sit down and catch up on Supernatural, Will called me.

"You better not be about to interfere with my Supernatural binge," I warned as soon as I answered the phone.

"I'm not," Will said. "Uncle Seb is though," he continued as he chuckled lightly.

"What?" I said, sitting up straighter just at the mention of the older Mr Burns.

"Uncle Seb wanted me to call you and ask you if you'd be okay with running over and discussing some things about your parent's memorial," he explained.

"Doesn't he discuss that with Nancy? Nancy will tell me after they discuss it."

"But Uncle Seb thought that he needed to discuss this particular thing with you."

"What is it about?"

"He doesn't tell me those things. But if you don't want to come, I can always tell him that you don't want to see him," I knew that he would be wearing a daring smirk right now.

"I'll come," I replied instantly. "Don't tell him that. I'll be right over."

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I got screwed over by the Devil.

The Devil, of course being Will.