"how did you know

Alastair led me out of his apartment to show me the paintings--his mum’s paintings--after breakfast. 

There were a few of them here in the studio, at least that’s what he told me. Andrea was keeping them in some sort of a storeroom. There was this silence between us on our way there. We hadn’t talked much about anything during breakfast either. I felt too sick to eat anything, but I did eat a little of those pancakes. Milo, the overly-energetic pup who I was still having a hard time being around, on the other hand, was a little too happy to be let out of Alastair’s little apartment and down to the studio.

Andrea had arrived by the time we reached downstairs. If I looked messed up from my appearance, which I knew was pretty evident, she didn’t bother pointing it out. Instead, she happily gave us the keys to the storeroom and took Milo out for a morning walk. I had no idea what to do other than follow Alastair down the dark-floored hallways.

After a short while, we were inside a small room filled with rows and rows of painted canvases. Some of them looked unfinished. Some of them were painted twice. It was like one of those surreal moments when you wondered if everything around you was real or not. The delicate paintings and Alastair, both; both seemed unreal to me. 

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, my eyes raking across the different canvases. There was something so different about them, especially the group of ones Alastair told me his mother had painted. The colours and the sceneries looked just like the ones I had once come across in the Hawthorne mansion. 

Steph would love these, I thought.

“I know.” Alastair gave me a small smile, closing the door behind us and walking closer until he was standing right beside me. My breath hitched just a little when his arm brushed against my own. “I'm far from home, but this place makes me miss it a little less.”

My eyes flickered from one painting to another and I walked towards one specific one. It was a plain, empty field. I had a tiny feeling that it was the field behind the Hawthorne mansion, the vast green land behind the tall Victorian structure. I remembered that place being so quiet and beautiful--a perfect picture to paint.

“Ophelia,” Alastair spoke up behind me. “I do care about you.”

I faced him, a little surprised. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a habit of his out of frustration. “It wasn't...I didn't tell you all about this, not because I don't care about you.” 

I merely stared at him, waiting. I wished he'd say more. But he didn't. He didn't say anything more than that. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t tell me why.

“That party. The one on New Year’s Eve.” I said, eyeing him a little warily. Maybe I was scared of what he’d reply to me with. “I saw you there at Maria’s cabin. Was it real?”

He frowned, staring right into my eyes. He stared at me for a long time. “Of course it was.”

I blinked up at him, not breaking our gaze, and felt this heavy heavy weight being lifted off my shoulders. A weight that had been pulling me down ever since that day they all told me Alastair had been dead for days. When all of them had told me that he couldn’t have been at Maria’s party. They hadn’t seen him. I had. 

And it had been real. All of it. God, it had been real.

“Does...Maria know?” I asked him.

His eyes darted across my face. I wanted to look away. I couldn’t just stand there to see him looking at me like that. Like he wanted me close. But how could he want me close when all of this was just a big, big mess? “I don’t know, Ophelia.”

“You didn't tell her?” 

“I didn’t tell a lot of people,” Alastair said, looking away. He was standing so close, yet he felt so far away. “It was just my aunt who knew.”

I took a step towards him in surprise and he seemed a little wary (surprised too) as he eyed me. “But it wasn't you. The body that they found in the lake.” I said.

“I know.” 

“Well then why can't you just tell them all?” I asked him, confused. “Why can’t you tell everyone that you’re not dead?”

He was silent for a little too long, looking almost at a loss for words. “Because they won't know who it was if it wasn't me.”

“It was your twin,” I said, furrowing my brows. “You can just tell them that. Why didn't your aunt tell them that when she knew…” I trailed off when I saw him frowning again. Maybe if it had been someone else, someone who didn’t know him like I did, they wouldn’t have noticed the concealed surprise in his eyes. I did, though. I knew him a little too much to miss such things.

“My twin.” He repeated slowly, his eyes widening just a little.

I opened my mouth to state the obvious, but decided otherwise. “What's wrong?”

He blinked and took a step back, away from me. Almost as if I was somehow a danger to him now. Almost as if he was scared of me. The strange, almost unreadable look in his eyes vanished just like that.

“Nothing,” he said.

I didn't believe him. I’d be stupid if I did.

“Cassius,” I spoke, wrapping my arms around myself and taking a step back. Maybe I should give him space. Maybe he didn’t want me near him anymore. I mean, things had changed, hadn’t they? More than a year was long enough to change things, long enough to make all those feelings vanish into thin air.

Except for me. Because I'd never let myself love someone like I loved him. And if I started loving someone, it always stayed. No matter what. Maybe that’s what was wrong with me. I couldn’t let things go.

Alastair parted his lips to say something, but seemed to be contemplating as he looked at me then away from me. “Yeah.”

“That’s his name.”

“I know that.” He replied a little too quickly, and he wasn’t looking at me, but still frowning.

“Why did you look so surprised then?”

I forgot how easily he did that--mask his emotions. Because he did it right then. He blinked and everything was gone. The frown, the confusion, the conflict. It was so so typical of him, yet I still hadn't expected it. 

“I was surprised to know that you remembered.” He said. 

Maybe he wasn’t lying. But to me, at that brief moment, it seemed like he was. I don’t know why it felt like it, but I knew he was hiding something from me. He wasn’t telling me something, I thought for probably the fiftieth time today. 

Before I could’ve said anything else, my phone started ringing from inside the pocket of the hoodie I was wearing. I took it out after a fleeting moment of hesitation.

It was Mum. 

My one hour was up.

******

The walk back home gave me a lot of time to think. Even if Alastair had seemed reluctant to let me walk home, offering to drive me there instead, he still had to agree at the end. I didn't think he was ready to talk or ready to explain. His freshly bruised knuckles, the obvious conflict in his eyes, there was a lot that he wasn't ready to say.

So he let me walk home alone.

And as I neared my house, the only thing I seemed to be dreading (the most) was facing Mum. I didn't have to though. Not when Mason started shouting the moment I neared the porch stairs.

“Lia! Lia! You have got to play pirates with me!” 

I turned around slowly and squinted my eyes at the bright sun, at him. He was swinging on the treehouse’s makeshift ladder. I didn't quite get what he was trying to do. Did pirates really swing like…that?

“Mase, I don't think--”

“Like Captain Hook!” He shouted again. It was a little weird that he reminded me of Milo--the black and white-furred pup.

I decided that since I didn't really wanna face Mum right now, I'd rather play pirates with my little brother.

“You're gonna fall,” I told him.

“Come on! Climb up!” He shouted.

So I did. Climb up the ladder, I mean. Once again I wondered why Dad had chosen this one specific tree to build the treehouse on. It was way too tall. At least the makeshift ladder was wide.

And Mason was chuckling evilly now.

My eyes widened. “Mason, don't you fucking dare--”

He started swinging the ladder with a little too much force. I shouldn't have been surprised when I heard a loud snap. Then another. And then we both were falling down. I suppose I wasn't that angry when we both landed on one of Mum’s beloved rose bushes. The tiny little branches and thorns hurt, especially my bandaged hand. And I didn't think Mum would be happy either. But Mason was still laughing like a moron and I was starting to laugh along with him. 

Safe to say, when Mum came out to check out the mess, she wasn't just angry with me.

I loved my little brother.

Mum invited a few guests over and was too busy fussing over them (like she always did) to interrogate me about last night. She did want to talk to me. And she was still pissed at me. I figured that out when she managed to corner me in the kitchen, past all the guests who were laughing and chatting in our lounge.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened to your hand?" She asked me, her brows furrowing just a little.

Perhaps I should've thought about that beforehand.

"I...I kind of cut my hand with a beer bottle." I wasn't lying. Mum seemed to think I was.

"Lia," She stretched out my name in a way that told me she was starting to lose her patience with me. "Do you understand how worried I got last night? You said you'd tell me if you're staying over at someone's place."

I managed a shrug.

"Lia--"

"I'm sorry, Mum." I cut her off. "Look, I just...last night was a little rough for me. I couldn't come back home. I was drunk, all right? I didn't...I didn't want to come back home."

She stared at me with the same worry in her eyes. I wish I could stop worrying her for once.

"Who was this friend you stayed with then?" She asked.

I licked my lips. "He...um, he's a friend I made back in Oak Valley. He came here recently to visit someone."

Mum raised her brows just a little.

"It's not like that, Mum." I frowned.

"I didn't say anything."

"You're looking at me like that. Assuming things."

Mum smiled tiredly, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll stop assuming things once you come clean with me, Lia. Our family's already too closed off with each other. Don't you think we should start working on that?"

I wrapped my arms around myself, hiding my bandaged palm. "I might if you do too."

I think Mum knew I was talking about Dad and her constant fights.

Mum sighed, perhaps too fed up, and picked up the freshly made casserole dish. "I'll get the dinner settled." She said.

Perhaps she was right. Our family was already too closed off to be fixed anymore.

The next day, however, things took a turn for the worse.

It was Tara and Steph who noticed it before me--the stares that I seemed to be getting all of a sudden. They weren't many but mostly seemed to be coming from Noah’s social circle. I knew why. Noah wasn't one to take a punch and not start drama along with it. He had friends in every corner. Even Alicia managed to give me a stinkeye when I was oy just pulling out books from my locker.

I had meant to talk to Noah, even when confronting him was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to apologise to him. I wanted to clear things up between us. But if he was going to start rumours, then I really didn't want to be anywhere near him.

And then there was Nora. She wasn't talking to me. I couldn't blame her, not when I knew how harsh I had been with her back at that party. Especially when she had only been looking out for me. So I gave her space. I tried. I wasn't sure how I would apologise to her and whether that'd even matter. I was a shit friend to her most of the time. I didn't know how to fix it when she couldn't even look me in the eye.

Thankfully, an opportunity showed itself when a girl from the cheerleading team showed up in front of me as I was making my way to my last class and bumped into me. On purpose. Especially when I knew why she was near me in the first place. She was one of the girls Noah had dated for a while.

“Watch where you're stepping, skank.” She sneered at me.

I was a little surprised. Nora, who had been walking behind me since we shared the same class, was a whole lot taken aback. 

“What did you just call her?” Nora asked, stepping beside me. I didn't quite know what I was more surprised by.

The girl--I think her name was Sloane--glared at me. “Sorry, I meant to say slut. Been acting like one lately.”

I rose my brows, clutching my books a little tighter. “Seriously?”

“If I hear you calling her that one more time,” Nora pointed her index finger at her. “I'll make sure you won't live long enough to walk around with that fake face of yours.” 

The threat surprisingly worked. Or maybe it was just that Sloane wasn't used to being at the receiving end of Nora’s threats, not when Nora used to be friends with such people not too long ago.

“Thank you,” I told her as we continued walking towards the classroom. “You,” I licked my lips, “didn't have to do that, Nora.”

“Of course I did.” She grumbled beside me. She was still not meeting my eyes.

“Nora,” I stopped and pulled her to a stop too. She did without any protest. “I'm…last night at the party…I'd understand if you're still pissed at me.” God, I didn't know how to apologise properly, did I?

Nora finally looked up at me and I shuddered a little. Perhaps Sloane had a good reason not to mess with Nora. She could be scary sometimes.

“Well, you didn't really apologise, did you?” 

“I…what?” I whispered, then quickly added, “Yes, I'm sorry. Of course, I'm sorry. I got drunk and I was stupid and whatever that I said…I was mean to you for absolutely no reason. You were just looking out for me. I'm just…used to pushing people away. I don't know why I think it'll fix things. It doesn't.” I swallowed, looking down at the floor. “It never does. I just don't want to lose you again, Nora. I'm so sorry.”

She was silent. The bell rang, signalling the start of the class. Yet we both were still here in the hallway as students cleared it.

Finally, after what felt like ages, she scoffed and linked my arm with hers.

“God, you're stupid.” She said. And then she started heading for the classroom, pulling me along.