1 Day prior to the move

The suffocating fog covers the dreary city, shrouding it in an eerie veil of gloom, as I gaze emptily through the window. The shadows of buildings and trees loom ominously, barely discernible in the darkness. The streets are silent, enveloped in a luring stillness that I relish. But there is also a chilling sense of unease that haunts the air, as if evil eyes are focused on me.

"Oh my god. He is hotter than I remember." Max states. "He looks like a fucking god." She continues. "The things I would do to him." She smirks, and I roll my eyes.

I face the window again, the beginnings of the storm pattering against the glass. In a few minutes, it will be a downpour. The thunder rolls, building to a crescendo, before a loud crack in the air shakes the core foundation of the house. A flash of lightning illuminates the room, briefly blinding me and leaving an image burned into my eyes. I smile at the darkness just outside my window, knowing that the storm has finally arrived.

I close my curtains and lay back in my bed as Jane and Max sit there stalking Cruz online. They both look at me, expecting a response, but I remain silent. "What's gotten into you lately?" Max questions me.

In the days leading up to today, I have made a conscious effort to minimize the amount of time I spend with them. I have been intentionally avoiding them, neglecting to address their questions and concerns. I made a promise to my mother that I would keep our true date of departure secret, so how do I say goodbye without raising suspicions?

To keep them from asking me why my behaviour has changed, I sit up and look at the laptop screen. Cruz stands on the beach with some girl, his abs on full display. I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy as I stare at Cruz's chiselled physique. His tan skin glistens under the sunlight, making him even more irresistible. Jane and Max exchange excited glances, clearly unable to contain their admiration for him.

As I scroll through his social media feed, it becomes evident that Cruz's popularity has skyrocketed since the last time I saw him.

I notice that Cruz has gotten multiple new piercings. He now has a brow ring, multiple earrings, and tattoos, which add to his already attractive appearance. It seems like everyone is obsessed with his new look, including the girl he's with on the beach.

"You think he's hot." Jane squeals.

I shake my head and say, "No, I don't." I cross my arms. "Just because he's somewhat good looking, doesn't mean he isn't an asshole. If anything, his little glow up made him even more repulsive." I roll my eyes.

As I lay there, memories of Cruz flood my mind, causing a chill to run down my spine. Despite his new attractive appearance, the darkness within him only seemed to intensify. The way he used to torment me, his words slicing through my heart like a knife, still haunts me to this day. It's as if I'm being drawn back into that nightmare, forced to confront the devil himself once again. And this time, there's no escape.

I can't help but shiver as I remember the twisted games Cruz used to play with my emotions. His handsome face may have fooled others, but I know the wickedness that lurks behind those penetrating eyes. It's like a sinister magnet pulling me back into his web—a dark romance that I'm both terrified of and drawn towards. As much as I hate to admit it, there's a sickly fascination in my soul that yearns for his touch, even knowing the danger he poses.

I look at my friends and state. "I'll admit, he is good-looking, but that doesn't mean there isn't danger behind his illusion. By the looks of it, he only wants one thing from girls, and that makes him dangerous. Not lovable."

Time seems to pass by when it's finally time to say goodbye. Jane and Max hug me as I try to hold back the tears, knowing that this may be the last time I see them. As I watch my friends leave, I can't shake the feeling that something big is about to happen—something that will change the course of my life forever.

🗡

After finishing dinner, I head back to my room and start packing. To paraphrase my mom, "Just bring the essentials." By the end, I have packed two suitcases and one carry-on. While rummaging through my closet, I stumble upon a shoebox brimming with photographs. I head towards the backyard and proceed to light a fire in the pit. One by one, the pictures are thrown into the flames. I watch the fire consuming the memories of Caleb and myself, experiencing a blend of emotions that includes both sadness and relief. I finally reach the last photo, a photo that I never thought I would see again. It's a picture of our family. As I look at it, I sense the sadness in my mother's eyes and the anger in my father's. However, the emotion that overwhelms me the most is my fear. I hold back tears and throw the photo into the flames, allowing it to burn along with everything else. I take a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief and liberation wash over me.

In that moment, I realise that by letting go of these memories, I am also freeing myself from the chains of my past. No longer will I be haunted by the pain and trauma that have defined my existence for far too long. The flames dance and crackle, consuming the remnants of a life I no longer wish to remember. As the ashes scatter into the night, a weight is lifted from my shoulders, and I am left with a newfound sense of clarity and purpose. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, I feel a glimmer of hope.

I take a seat on the patio next to the fire when my mother walks out with two beers in hand. She hands one over and smiles. "Seriously?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's our last day here; we might as well enjoy it." She says this, taking a sip and gesturing for me to do the same.

I hesitantly take a sip, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. As the taste of the beer lingers on my tongue, I can't help but marvel at the simplicity of this moment. The crackling fire provides a comforting warmth against the cool night air, and the sound of cicadas fills the otherwise silent surroundings. For a brief moment, it feels as though time has slowed down, allowing me to fully appreciate the beauty of this tranquil evening.

We sit in companionable silence, content to just be in each other's presence. The weight of the day's worries and responsibilities begins to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and serenity. I take another sip of the beer; the taste is now familiar and comforting. The bitterness blends with the sweetness of the evening. I let out a contented sigh, feeling completely at ease.

"Are you excited to see Cruz?" My mother breaks the silence.

I side eye her and begin to laugh. "You're joking, right? That boy made my life hell every time he came to visit. I'm definitely not excited to see him."

She laughs and shakes her head. "You two have been at each other's throats since the day you were born." She laughs harder.

"I'm hoping this move will be a new start for us, Luca. Leaving everything behind." Her eyes narrow in my direction.

I roll my eyes and get up. "Thank you for the drink, but I'm headed in for the night." I kiss her cheek and head upstairs to the shower.

As the warm water cascades over my tired body, I can't help but reflect on the years of turmoil that Cruz's visits have brought. From the endless pranks to the constant bickering, our relationship has always been tumultuous. However, despite the animosity that had defined our interactions, a part of me couldn't deny the lingering curiosity about what had become of him.

I knew that seeing Cruz again after all these years would bring back a flood of memories, both good and bad. As I lather shampoo into my hair, I can't help but wonder if he has changed at all. Has he matured? Has life treated him well? Or was he still the same troublemaker I remembered from our youth? The steam from the shower seemed to cloud my thoughts, making it difficult to fully process my emotions. But one thing was certain – seeing Cruz again would undoubtedly stir up a mix of nostalgia, apprehension, and perhaps even a hint of hope for some payback.

I step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body as I make my way to the bedroom. The anticipation of our reunion is overwhelming, and I find myself constantly checking the clock, counting down the minutes until we finally meet again. It's been years since we last saw each other, and I can't help but wonder how much we've both changed.

Pulling back the covers on my bed, I lay down. But I can't seem to fall asleep. I grab my phone and begin scrolling through social media, stalking Cruz's Instagram. I come across one photo where he is smiling. I'll admit, he makes me want to bite my lower lip.

I continue scrolling; he looks different, but not much. He has definitely gotten taller and more muscular since the last time I saw him. His hair is still the same messy dark blonde, falling just above his deep sea green eyes. I remember how his eyes used to light up whenever he laughed, and it brings a bittersweet feeling to my heart.

Maybe he has changed after all these years. Maybe we can finally get along with each other. We've both grown up and matured—at least I have.

As I stare at his profile picture, memories flood back to me. The countless arguments and bitter fights we had as children, the constant competition and rivalry. It was as if we were born to be enemies, destined to clash at every turn. But now, as I look at him through the screen, a flicker of hope ignites within me. Maybe, just maybe, time has softened our edges and smoothed out our differences. Perhaps we can find common ground, build a bridge of understanding that spans the years of animosity.

I take a deep breath and click on the message icon, hesitating for a moment before typing out a greeting. The cursor blinks on the screen, a tangible representation of the uncertainty that lingers in my mind. Will he respond? As I hit send, a mix of anticipation and anxiety swirls within me, unsure of what the outcome will be.

An hour passes, and I grow more nervous as each minute ticks by. Waiting for his response is tormenting. It's sitting there, weighing down the back of my brain. I fear my brain stem will snap from the tension building up inside me. My phone buzzes, and my breath catches in my throat. I open the message.

Hey Bambi. Long time no see. Still holding a grudge from all those years ago? ;)

Are you still an asshole? - I respond.

Haha, is that how you remember me? I guess some things never change. See you in Brazil. PS: I haven't changed. lol. - The text reads.

I haphazardly toss my phone aside. Well, it seems that my hopes were misplaced. It looks like he hasn't changed in the slightest. I pull the covers over my head and close my eyes. I really hope Brazil won't be as terrible as I anticipate.

I begin to toss and turn, so I jump out of bed and walk toward the window to get a glimpse of the dark city sky. The fog is still heavy. The bright lights of the CN Tower forcefully try to push their way through the darkness, but are ultimately swallowed by the thick mist.

I let out a sigh, feeling a sense of familiarity in the gloomy atmosphere outside. It's a stark contrast to the vibrant colours and lively energy I've always associated with Brazil. Maybe this is just a sign, a reflection of the uncertainty and apprehension I feel about embarking on this new adventure. As I stare out into the misty night, I can't help but wonder if my mom is making the right decision for us.