Aaron flinched. “I’m afraid of the dark.”
Silence.
The reactions Aaron had experienced after telling people over the years were vast. Some more extreme than others, but always the same in how it made him feel. When he’d told his childhood therapist, she’d been more than prepared, simply nodding and humming as if his parents hadn’t already forewarned her of the phobia. When he’d told his small group of middle-school friends, they’d instantly laughed at him and cut him out of their circle. When he told his first (and only) real girlfriend, she’d scoffed and rolled her eyes as if she held all the answers. As if she could cure him by taking off her bra and seducing him in the dark.
June was different, and Aaron should have known. Everything surrounding June was different than he was used to. More impactful and more unexpected. Another roll of thunder crawled over the mountain like impending doom. When their eyes met, Aaron’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach.
“Are you kidding?” June curled his lip in distaste, looking as if he’d just been slapped. “Give me a fucking break.”
He didn’t believe him.
June…really didn't believe him?
Of all the people Aaron had confessed to, no one had ever simply not believed him before. Guilt and shame morphed into frustration inside of him. Bubbling over as hot, liquid resentment. His ears burned with embarrassment. This was worse than being made fun of.
June pressed the frozen peas to his jaw and looked sharply away, completely and utterly offended.
Aaron didn’t lose his temper very often, but years of being belittled and humiliated had taught him how to stand up for himself. And if June was going to be an ass about this, then he didn't have to sit quietly and take it.
“I’m serious.” He pushed himself off the bed, gestured with his arms in disbelief. “What other reason would I ha—”
“Just fucking forget it, alright!” June rolled away from him, yanking at the covers until his face was half hidden. “Go away.”
Aaron couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How insecure did June want him to feel? Throwing a fit like a prepubescent child. Refusing to look him in the eyes. This was a real and relentless problem in his life, and he’d never once tried to use it as an excuse not to do something. How dare June think so little of him.
“You know what, fuck you!” Aaron hissed, building momentum. “If you think I’m lying then that’s your—”
“I said, get OUT!” June snarled the way lightning struck the ground.
“—YOUR PROBLEM!” he yelled now, determined to finish his goddamn sentence. His voice raised to a level reserved for people who really deserved it, disgust and venom dripped from his words. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quail dash from under the bed to the connecting bathroom.
“I can’t believe you’re such a pussy you feel like you have to LIE about not wanting to hang out with me!”
If Aaron had not been so naive or so fragile about himself, he might have realized June lashed out because he felt unwanted. And maybe then Aaron could have stopped this train wreck in its tracks.
His anger got the best of him though, and he slammed the bedroom door hard on his way out, rattling the bones of the old house.
A loud, roaring clap of thunder followed him, unleashing water upon the thirsty earth for the first time in a long, long time.
Several hours had passed in the time since Aaron had left June, broken and exhausted in the master bedroom. He fumed over the fact he’d been so quick to judge. That he’d failed to see the reality of the situation even though it had been blatantly in front of him.
His pride had already been destroyed, and with Angie’s crying fit on repeat in his head, nothing made sense anymore. He was lost in the chunks of memory left from the previous night and stuck trying to piece it together and failing. All June could think about was the fact that this was his last summer and this was not how he saw it going. He’d been so caught up in it that, it had taken Aaron—sweet and sensible Aaron—yelling at the top of his lungs to shake June out of his ignorance.
Of course, Aaron was afraid of the dark. How had he not believed that? June had woken up to the hall light turned on every morning since Aaron had gotten here and he never had once suspected a thing. All that time spent wondering what could be so wrong with bonfires or wrong with him that Aaron didn't want to go. He should have known. He should have figured it out.
But more importantly, he shouldn’t have been such a dick about it when Aaron tried to tell him the truth.
There had been a few times in June’s life where he could admit being a little too rough around the edges or hard to get along with. Maybe even a little too much of a bully. But never had it turned on him like this before. He deserved every dose of misery he was apparently destined to get this summer.
He lay in bed with a hangover and fizzling regret until he couldn’t take it anymore. Aaron had stormed off, but June didn't know if he had taken his things and left for good, or if he was coming back. The need to apologize for his poor behavior had left him feeling ill. The fact that he didn't even have a way to contact Aaron made him feel hopeless. And hours of listening to rain had sucked the life from his body.
Eventually, June wandered from the back room with his melted bag of peas (almost all of which he had squashed beneath the plastic) and found the quiet of the living space unwelcoming. He stuffed the bag into the trash and turned to the sliding glass door leading to the porch. Peered out at the old, wet deck and the sopping maple tree just beyond it.
Aaron had said he was taking a picture of a bird’s nest when the branch broke and he fell into the rose bushes below, but somehow June knew that wasn’t true.
He slid the glass door open and stepped barefoot into the rain. Large, tepid droplets greeted him, landing on his bare shoulders and face and stinging against the worst of his bruises. The closer he got to the tree, the harder the drops fell.
What was it about this beast that Aaron had found so fascinating? June had been coming here for eighteen years and found sentiment in just about everything…but this tree? Not really. It had always been huge and timeless, standing beside the house like a loyal guard, but June had never thought more of it.
He reached out and brushed one of the sopping green leaves. They weren’t traditionally shaped, but still undeniably maple. They were soft like Aaron and strong like June. He didn’t understand.
Sorrow ran like the rivulets of water over his body.
It was quite ironic that the topic of conversation that had driven Aaron from the cabin earlier in the day was the same thing that drove him back to the cabin later that evening. The setting sun beyond a violent storm blackened the sky, curling in on him.
He’d sat in his car at the top of the hill overlooking the lake for the majority of the afternoon. Listening to the patter of rain and organizing his thoughts as thunder rolled over the mountain. It reminded him much more of Portland while it rained here, and for the first time since he’d met June, he felt the dull pain of homesickness in his heart. The smell of brush and damp soil mixing with wet asphalt took him some hundred miles north.
He imagined crawling into his bed with his acoustic guitar and plucking away at the strings aimlessly. Content and comfortable in the coolness of his apartment overlooking the city. With his eyes closed, he could almost hear the hustle and bustle of traffic below. Then the sound of the front door opening and Arco throwing his gym bag underneath the bench. His cousin would go straight to shower in their tiny bathroom, then come wobbling over with whatever stack of textbooks he needed to study from for the evening. They would sit together, occasionally sharing words about their day or their parents or…whatever else came up.
Aaron craved that familial company even though he’d talked to his cousin last night. He felt incredibly lost without Arco there to guide him at times like these. To sling an arm around his shoulders and give him a shake and tell him everything was going to be fine.
Ultimately, Aaro
n knew he couldn’t stay angry forever. He didn't have it in him to hold a grudge. He was too soft and too passive and didn’t want there to be bad feelings between June and him, no matter if he had to take all the blame or not. June could huff and puff over his fear of the dark if he wanted, but Aaron believed they could still be friends.
Besides, homesick or not, he didn't want to leave just yet. Portland was a maze of emotions he wasn’t ready to tackle. Going back there meant going back to the drama and humiliation he’d left behind several weeks ago. The town probably still hated his guts. And Arco was in Monterey learning how to save marine life. He wouldn’t be any less alone there than he was right now.
Most of all though, it wouldn’t be right of Aaron not to at least apologize for his own harsh words. He was upset and frustrated that June didn’t believe him, but he’d been raised to make amends for his own mistakes. Guilt would keep him awake at night if he didn't at least try.
Aaron left the top of the hill and drove back toward the cabin slowly, windshield wipers swinging back and forth the whole way. When he pulled into the driveway, he was relieved to find the cabin lights on outside, waiting expectantly for his return. He cut his engine and hurried up the steps to the front door, refusing to be nervous this time.
He wasn’t going to yell. No matter what June said or did he was determined to keep a level head and explain everything. As long as he could get it off his chest, then he could hide in the back bedroom for the rest of the night to sleep, and tomorrow would be a better day. Maybe they could even forget this ever happened.
The cabin was quiet and untouched since he’d stormed out earlier. His new clothes still in their bags on the kitchen table and June’s things still discarded on the floor. There was no sign of June’s typical cooking either. No staticky T.V. station playing in the living room. No nothing.
“June?” he called timidly and waited.
No response. Aaron set his keys on the counter by the door and walked toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms with a heavy sigh. June couldn’t still be so mad that he wouldn’t even answer him. Right? People didn't really act like that over such stupid things.
“June?” He poked his head into the master bedroom. It was empty.
That was strange… The cabin was only so big, and unless June literally hid from Aaron, he should have been obvious by now. Aaron turned in a full circle, eyes darting to the smaller bedroom in confusion. It was also vacant. However, he noted the light in there had been left on.
In fact, every light in the house had been turned on. The bedroom and bathroom lights, the kitchen light, the hall light. Even the—
The porch light.
Aaron made his way to the sliding glass door and peered outside. Sure enough, June was there, on top of the wooden picnic table lying face up with his arms spread wide at his sides. His eyes were closed, but he was too stiff to be sleeping. His brow was pinched together slightly. His hair and clothes were thoroughly soaked.
June must not have heard him pull up into the driveway or come in. The sound of the rain was loudest on the patio beside the tin roof overhang. Echoing all around them. Aaron stayed on the inside of the door for a long moment, observing. Tracing the pattern of bruises from June’s eyes all the way to his ribs. In the dull glow of the porch light, his skin didn't seem so rich in color, but rather washed out and unhealthy. Muted like the look on his face. He looked like he was in quiet pain. Physical or mental Aaron wasn’t sure.
However, what he was sure of, was that his heart thumped wildly in his chest, and once again all the words he’d prepared to say failed him. His thoughts failed him too.
At that moment, there was no one else in the world. Just June, wounded and broken and…somehow beautiful. And Aaron, confused and lost and captivated. Somewhere inside of him, he was still upset, but all he could bring to the surface now was awe. And maybe a little sadness. Pity for the other teen.
He slid the door open as quietly as he could, mind blank, body moving on autopilot. When the rain touched his skin, he barely felt a thing.
If you’d have told Aaron several weeks ago, he would soon be standing outside his parents’ vacation home in the dark of night, during a thunderstorm, he would have laughed and shaken his head. Maybe even rolled his eyes. He would have told you the unfamiliar shadows surrounding him would induce panic in his brain. That he would climb out of his skin until he could get back inside. That nothing could change the way he feared. This was something he lived with relentlessly. Hopelessly.
Aaron would never have believed you if you’d told him he would be okay. And the bruised, delinquent boy on the picnic table would be so fascinating to look at; he wouldn’t feel afraid. That instead, he would be full of butterflies. And his ears would ring, and his blood would rush hot to his cheeks.
He placed his hands on the old sturdy wood, holding his breath. June still didn’t know he was there, and until a huge swell of wind pulsed around them, he still did not move. The tilt of his chin and the tightening of his eyelids were the only signs he’d been affected at all.
Lightning flashed wild and heated around them. A dangerous white vein cracking open the sky. A second of silence. Then the snarl of thunder so loud he felt it in his teeth.
Aaron didn’t know what came over him at that moment, caught between a boy and storm. But he clutched the table with trembling hands and the maple tree swayed and shook with effort; its newest limbs bending hard and leaves rustling violently. He swallowed hard, held his breath, and surrendered to new feelings that didn't have a place or a name inside of him. He bent over, closed his eyes...
And delicately pressed his lips to June’s.
June’s entire body jolted forward as if lighting had dropped out of the sky and struck him. Every single nerve going off like a car alarm. Loud, sudden surprise.
He accidentally headbutted Aaron with enough force to cause them both to see stars. Their teeth clunked together hard, and his heart galloped with violent shock; pulsed in his ears. When he opened his mouth to scream at the stupid boy standing beside him, the only sound that came out of his mouth was a low groan. June pressed his palm to his forehead, and the world spun.
When their eyes finally met, it dawned on June what the fuck had just happened. He’d thought he was alone on the porch, but apparently, Aaron had snuck up on him. And then he...
“Y-You just—”
“No.” Aaron shook his head swiftly in denial, voice cracking around the edges. He held one hand up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes watering with pain. The other hand waved at June as if to disregard everything that just happened. There was something frantic and desperate in his expression. Pupils wider than normal. “No, I—”
He didn’t finish what he was trying to say. A trickle of blood ran down toward his upper lip, but he ignored it in exchange for the growing panic. Neither one of them blinked, but June must have looked as manic as he felt because the reaction from the other boy was not the reaction one should get after having their first kiss.
Aaron raised his hands in surrender, backed up slowly from the picnic table. His green eyes darted toward the sliding glass door, and June grit his teeth together because he was far, far too perceptive not to realize what was about to happen.
“Don’t you dare,” he hissed and made a move toward the boy.
Aaron darted away anyway, flinging himself at the sliding glass door and reaching for the handle in the same movement.
“AARON!” June half stepped, half fell off the picnic table and gave chase. His bare feet slipped on the wet wood, and he nearly hit the wall in a mad attempt to catch Aaron before he could do something he’d really regret.
June hit the glass with his whole body just as it closed, and Aaron—the coward—managed to flip the lock on him.
“LET ME IN!” June demanded, using as much strength as he could gather to yank at the handle. It didn't budge, and he remembered this particular door had been replaced two years ago so it would be mo
re secure from intruders. He hated it.
There was no way to begin processing the emotions brewing inside of him, but if June could get inside the cabin, he could kick Aaron Valentine’s ass, which was more important anyway. His temper flared when he saw Aaron shaking his head frantically from inside, nose still bleeding and face beat red with embarrassment.
“AARON, OPEN THE DOOR!” June screeched like a bobcat in a cage. “OPEN THE DOOR, YOU BASTARD!”
He did no such thing. No, instead, Aaron ran toward the front door and proceeded to deadbolt it. June gaped at him in disbelief. His face pressed hard into the glass. He could not believe what he was seeing.
He was going to kill him. He was going to kill him and bury his carcass in the yard. Then Aaron was going to haunt his beloved summer home for the rest of eternity.
June pulled away with a string of unique curse words, pressed his hands to his face and groaned. He thought about all the windows on the cabin, trying to decide which one would be the easiest to get in through. Was he desperate enough to break one of them? Maybe.
But maybe he didn't have to.
A few days ago, he’d unlocked the master bedroom window and pushed it open to get some fresh air. He might not be tall enough to reach it from the outside the house, but if he was, then he could pop the screen off and crawl through.
He flipped Aaron two middle fingers and stormed off around the side of the porch.
Stupid bastard. Stupid prep. Stupid, sweet boy.
It took June several minutes to navigate through the brush and bushes around the other side of the house, especially without shoes. But it was worth it when he got to the window and found he indeed could reach it. He must be taller than he was last summer when he’d tried to sneak in this way and couldn’t quite pull himself up on his own (one of his sisters had distracted their parents while the other one helped yank him in, but that was a story neither here nor there).
He felt around the old screen, hands tracing for a bend on the edge of the hard plastic he could slip at least one fingertip into.
The Maple Effect Page 16
