Chapter 140

"But I…"

"Go away, dammit!" he shouted, breaking through the stifling heat with a gust of wind as strong as his emotions. I flinched in defense.

"Don’t yell at me, and don’t swear," I pleaded.

"Don’t yell at you?! Damn it, Emília! What the hell is wrong with you?" he continued. "I. Kill. People. Is it that hard for you to understand that crap?! You’re even sicker and dumber than I am, damn it. I’m not an amusement park. I don’t generate adrenaline for you to want to stay by my side and live out your fantasies. You’re thirteen years old and acting like a suicidal idiot. What the hell!"

My heart thundered with every cursed word Dante articulated. My breathing derailed, and I couldn’t convince my lungs to open and let air in. It stuck in my throat, refusing to reach where it was needed, forcing me to gasp desperately, begging for a shred of oxygen even if it had to come through my rear end.

I crouched, tears streaming uncontrollably, and my senses scrambled to press the shutdown button.

"What’s going on?" Dante asked, though with clear hesitation. "Emília…"

He crouched to my level, positioning himself beside me.

But my panic was focused entirely on trying to keep oxygen flowing in and out, though it was impossible. Each moment felt like my throat was tightening more, as though the bones of my ribcage were snapping one by one until nothing remained.

"Emília. Stop this. You’re scaring me, damn it!" he exclaimed in a panic. "Breathe! Come on! Inhale and exhale like a normal person."

My shoulders shook, tears running their relentless course down my face, chin, chest, and finally to the ground.

I screamed internally. Perhaps it was my blood retreating to inaccessible corners, refusing to reach the places I so desperately needed. It wasn’t providing the oxygen I needed, and though my brain was aware, every attempt to breathe was futile.

"Asthma…"

"What?"

But before I could answer, my senses finally managed to hit the red button.

***

I arrived home after hours of being hospitalized. My parents had been called by Torman, who, at some point, had come home and called an ambulance.

I asked if there had been a boy with me, not mentioning his name, and they said no. However, my father was furious.

"Where did you leave your brain when you decided to go out without your inhalers? And what's this about a boy?" he snapped as he closed the door behind him.

He hated making a scene in public places, but at home, it was a different story.

"I didn’t think. I’m sorry."

Mom hugged me from the side, planting a kiss on the back of my neck.

"You need to be more careful. Don’t forget you’re asthmatic. You can’t put yourself in situations like this."

Mom tilted her head, communicating with Dad through her gaze. Yet his posture didn’t change. Anger was etched into every contour of his face.

"We can’t be soft about this. It’s serious," he stated.

"What were you doing in front of Torman’s house?"

I couldn’t tell them. They’d know and judge me. My parents were strict about my friendships. They didn’t accept just anyone, so they wouldn’t like knowing I was friends with Dante—or at least, we had been.

A pang of pain shot through my chest.

"It was a dare from Daniel. Just a silly thing," I lied, shrinking in on myself.

"During school hours, leaving your things in the classroom?"

"Don’t worry, Dad. I’m fine."

Wrong words.

His nostrils flared, anger fuming through deep breaths that filled the hallway, engulfing the three of us.

"You know how I feel about you wandering alone around there. This city is dangerous. People disappear, bodies are found. You can’t climb the town hill and not see the error in what you’re doing," Dad began, his voice deepening with every sentence.

"Dad…"

"Understand that every day, I deal with injuries, wounded people, children, adults, and seniors on the brink of death. How am I supposed to stay calm knowing my daughter ended up in the hospital because of a thoughtless, reckless game?"

His distress mirrored every word he said. His clenched jaw, red hands from clenching his fists, and shaky breaths were all evidence of my father’s worry.

"I’m very sorry."

"Sorry isn’t enough. The world isn’t made of games, recklessness, or impulsive actions. We think. Humans are different because they think. And I want you to have that level of understanding, to recognize what puts you in danger. Abductions are happening, and as much as your mom and I want to protect you, we can’t always do so."

Dad’s fervent speech rang with truth. I understood his anger, and if he knew I’d been at Torman’s house because of Dante, I wouldn’t see daylight for the rest of the year.

I simply nodded, my silence reflecting my apology. Mom kissed my forehead again, whispering a soft, "We love you."

Dad approached, placing his hand on the back of my neck. It was enough to convey that his worry was entwined with the love he felt for me.

"We’ll talk more about this later. We need to get ready to leave, but tomorrow we’ll have a conversation. Go up to your room."

I grabbed my backpack, which Kayleen had brought to my parents after learning about the situation. My best friend hadn’t held back on messaging me, and I dreaded the scolding I’d get from her.

I replied with a simple, "I’m fine. We’ll talk soon." She clearly hated it, bombarding me with calls as I climbed the stairs.

However, just as I was about to answer, I opened my door and froze.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, startled, quickly closing the door. "My parents are downstairs!"

"Should I say good evening? Would it be rude to just show up?"

"No!" I exclaimed, stepping closer to Dante under the glow of the night and full moon streaming through the window. "Did you climb in through that?"

I pointed at the open window.

"Like a door, it opens and closes. I don’t see the surprise," he remarked, amused. His gaze wandered around my room, studying the color of my walls, photo frames, and hanging trinkets, as well as the impeccable organization of my clothes and school supplies. "Your room is very you."

"Dante… You yelled at me today. You said you didn’t want to be my friend. What are you doing here?"

I pursed my lips, watching him sit on my bed, facing me with his arms resting on his slightly spread knees.

His dark eyes held a flicker of light, blinking as if they were sending a message in Morse code, asking me to share in whatever he was feeling.

"I was worried."

"I’m fine now. My parents took care of me. They’re doctors."

Dante patted his thigh.

"Come here, Gray."

I didn’t move.

The breathlessness that had tightened my throat earlier still lingered, and I remembered the panic when Dante’s deep voice had echoed again.

"You yelled at me," I reminded him.

"I know."

"You said awful things about me."

"I know."

"So why are you here?"

"To check if you’re breathing," he declared, delivering a heavy blow to my chest. "And to apologize. I was cruel to you. You didn’t deserve any of the words I said. I’m… It’s strange for me to know there’s someone who sees something in every distorted part of me. I’m not a good guy. I never was. I was born broken, and I’ll die that way. I don’t want to take away what you find beautiful in this world, Gray. I’m afraid I’ll do that to you."

A faint, oddly pleasant shiver coursed through my soul.

It was touched somehow, though I wasn’t sure what Dante’s words truly meant.

He felt deeply. He seemed to have lived deeply. He spoke with sadness.

Dante Faulkner was a man trapped in the body of a fifteen-year-old boy.

And I understood that we were so different. Two poles avoiding collision, yet it was inevitable. We were already destined for an explosion. It was wrong. Like drinking poison, no matter how sweet and addictive. At some point, it would destroy me from the inside out with irreversible damage.

In the future, we would have separate lives. He and I would go down distant paths. It had to be that way. But in that moment, I wanted to gather every piece of him he claimed was broken.

"I still want to be your friend, despite everything…" I confessed. "But you can’t do what you did today again, or I’ll yell at you too!"

Faulkner patted his leg again, and this time, I went.

His cold hands rested on my face.

"Next time, hit me. Hard."

I nodded.

"I will. I’ll break you."

A gentle smile appeared on his lips, and his nose brushed against mine.

My heart warmed, and the oxygen I’d lacked hours earlier became fuel for the fire that ignited within me.

"Can I stay for a while?" he asked.

"What do you want to do?"

"I don’t know… What do you want?"

I glanced around, then decided, walking to my wardrobe and pulling out my violin. Dante alternated his gaze between the instrument and me.

"Do you want me to play?" he asked, curious.

"While I read to you. We need to finish Romeo and Juliet."

I offered him the violin, and he took it with care.

"How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since I heard you play. You’re good. Shakespeare would be proud."

Dante let out a loud laugh.

"Alright. I’ll play."

"Thank you," I murmured, lying on my bed on my stomach, not caring that I hadn’t showered and was still in dirty clothes.

Dante sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and positioned the violin properly, preparing to start.

"Before anything," I interrupted, "I want to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Are you happy about being adopted?"

I watched the vein pulse in Dante’s neck. I couldn’t tell if he was upset by the question or just thinking. Then the strings began to play, and the angelic sound of the violin softened my ears.

"Ask me again in ten years."

I didn’t quite understand what he meant, but I tucked the answer into a mental box and opened the page where we had left off.

Dante played while I read.

When he got tired, he lay down beside me. Then we read side by side, and he wrote on my skin whatever was on his mind.

It became one of the best memories I ever created with him.