Page 45

Daxton

I gaze up at the night sky, stars twinkling like diamonds. It was ten years ago today that I first met Trayton. A whole decade since I heard the door creak open behind me and saw a boy with the saddest eyes I’d ever encountered, staring at me wide-eyed. Ten years ago, when he asked if he could join me and I simply nodded.

Ten years since I fell in love with that smile he flashed as he sat down. A smile brighter than any star up there, more luminous than any light around.

He doesn’t realize it, but that night, he became my lighthouse. The beatings, the shouting, the way my dad and uncle forced me into their world of selling drugs—none of it mattered that night because of him.

I never told him, but that night, thoughts of how much it would hurt if I jumped couldn’t leave my mind. I was up here for that reason alone, yet fear held me back.

At eleven, I was already so weary of life.

He saved me in more ways than he could ever know that night. Because for the first time, hope stared back at me.

I sit with my hood up, knees drawn to my chest, looking at the trees and the shimmering water ahead.

I release a deep sigh and laugh. How did I get this lucky? I used to gaze at those trees, the water, and the lighthouse’s glow. It always reminded me of him. His eyes.

My Mystic Tealglow.

Whenever I sketched, I used those colors, and no matter how much I hated it, everything led back to him.

Hating him became easy because loving him felt impossible. Loving him was so hard.

But now, it’s as natural as breathing. He is the air I breathe.

It’s easy.

And loving him has never felt so right. The door creaks open behind me, and a smile sneaks onto my face as I settle into the same spot he found me in a decade ago. Draped in a black hoodie, hood up, I gaze at the stars above.

I peek over my shoulder, my face mostly hidden by the hood, just like always. I became a master at hiding, maybe too good at it.

“Can I sit with you?” he asks softly.

He remembers. He knows what today means. I grin and nod.

Tray sits beside me, leaving a gap between us—just like he did ten years ago. I recall the fear that gripped me back then. Strangers were a constant presence, but they were rarely kind. Tray, even at eleven, could have been any random stranger, much like those who bullied me at school. I was so thankful for that little space he left between us, even if his bright smile was anything but mean.

Now, I long to feel his warmth close by.

I glance at him, peeking out from under my hood. He looks straight ahead, mirroring my gaze.

“Why did you name that picture Mystic Tealglow?” he whispers. I smile, turning my gaze to where he looks.

“Imagine eyes that capture nature itself, a mix of forest green, peaceful ocean blue, and the glow of light… So intense and captivating. A gaze you can’t tear away from.” I smile, his eyes so clear in my head like they always have been. “They were a complete mystery, yet so calming and electrifying. It’s like the universe mixed its most beautiful colors into one stunning sight.”

Tray shifts slightly, and I look up at him. He’s staring at me, confusion creasing his brow.

“Eyes?” he asks softly.

“Yes, eyes. Your eyes,” I reply.

He blinks rapidly, then gazes at me with an awe that makes my heart skip. “You drew a picture and named it Mystic Tealglow because it reminded you of my eyes?”

I nod, smirking, and gesture toward the water, the trees, and the bright light reflecting from the lighthouse. “It’s always reminded me of your eyes. It’s my refuge. As much as I hated to admit it, your eyes were a blissful escape, Tray. They light up my life more than you know. That, and your smile.”

“I love you.” Trayton’s voice is raw, emotions spilling over. “So much, Dax, and I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that. My soul knew, but my mind and heart were just a bit behind.” He moves closer, and my entire body relaxes instantly. I hadn’t realized how tense I was, but the moment his warmth envelops me, everything is okay.

I’m safe. I’m free.

Trayton gently tugs up the sleeve on my arm, and I instinctively tense, pulling my right arm around to cover it again. “Don’t,” he murmurs softly. “I love every single inch of you, scars and all.” I manage a smile, though a wince escapes as his hand tenderly brushes over my healed but forever-marked skin. Both Tray and I bear these scars on our arms and backs from the fire, reminders of what we endured. We’ve had numerous skin grafts. Tray carries his scars with pride, as if they are a badge of honor, and rightfully so. In my eyes, he will always be my hero. I, however, am still fighting with mine, despite Trayton kissing them every night when I’m with him. They always bring back memories of two men I wish I could forget.

Though I can’t bring myself to mourn my dad’s passing, a twisted part of me feels a twinge of pity for him and the path he chose. He was once just a little brother trying to impress his older sibling. But look where that led him.

Trayton leans down, his lips trailing gentle kisses along my scars. “Mine,” he mumbles against my skin. “Mine always.” A single tear escapes. I’ve longed for the day Trayton would claim me as his. It feels surreal, like a dream I might awaken from at any moment.

Trayton lifts my hand, stopping me from rolling my sleeve back down. He loves seeing our scars together. The scars tell the story of a fire that couldn’t break us. They remind us every day that we faced the flames together and came out stronger, side by side.

Trayton grabs my finger, and I feel a jolt of surprise. “What-what are you doing?” I stammer, my heart racing. Trayton just gives a playful smirk that melts my confusion. He slides a black ring onto my finger, the one marked by the black smoke, and it takes my breath away. “It’s beautiful, Tray,” I say, mesmerized by its perfection, before finally tearing my gaze away to look at him.

“But what is it? What does it mean?” I ask, curiosity bubbling inside me. He smiles as if he’s been eagerly waiting for this moment.

“Whatever you want it to mean, Dax,” he replies, echoing the words I once said to him ten years ago. I laugh, feeling a rush of nostalgia, and stare back down at the ring.

“It’s perfect,” I whisper, reluctantly pulling my hand away even though it’s clear that Trayton doesn’t want to let go. I examine the ring closely, and Trayton urges me to take it off. When I do, he tells me to look inside.

“06.29.2012.”

“Happy ten-year tenth anniversary, Dax,” he utters tenderly, taking the ring from me and carefully sliding it back onto my finger. He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

I raise my arm, revealing the fresh tattoo I got this morning. While Tray was out with the guys, I seized the chance to have it done. My drawing from the tattoo shop of the tree, the lake, and the light. It has Mystic Tealglow written above it and then a quote that I feel fits us perfectly. “Like the stars, we may fade from sight, but we always find our way back to each other.” Trayton’s eyes shimmer with emotion as he gazes at it, eventually meeting my eyes.

“Happy twenty-first Birthday, Tray,” I say, feeling full of every bit of love there is out there.