The tightness in my chest relaxed a little. Even if it was such a mom thing to say, it still felt good to hear her say that.

I don't always feel that way about myself.

I feel out of place.

Different.

You are the most beautiful thing.

I'm not the person they think I am. I wondered if they knew that, or if they're in denial. I'll never be the version of myself that they want. I'll always disappoint them.

And I'm afraid that sharing the most vulnerable part of myself will make them realize I'm no better than my brother. That in their attempt to raise the perfect son, I was another failure.

"Mom." My voice cracked. Something that hasn't happened since I was 15. "I'm sorry." The tears kept coming the more I thought about what would come next after I told her everything.

The thousands of things I'd been keeping inside from spilling out. My secrets, my fears...

I glanced down at my hands and whispered, "I never know when I'm doing something wrong or right, or how to act in front of you guys. It's hard trying to be the version of me you want when in reality–I'm so far from it."

"Mijo, you don't have to be anyone but yourself." She smiled, the type of warm smile that I was convinced could melt the snow outside. And I wanted her to keep smiling at me, even after what came next. I hoped that she would keep smiling at me.

"I'm in love with Amory."

There was a brief silence between the two of us. The only noise in the air was the faint sound of the T.V.

I was afraid to look at her, but all I could imagine was disgust. And that wonderful thing that she said, it would all be for nothing. She'll take it back because now she knows the truth.

"Why would you be sorry?" She asked. Her hand clasped mine tightly like she was never going to let go.

"Because all I do is disappoint you."

"You've never disappointed me, and I'm proud of the man you've grown into. You're more than I ever could have imagined; you're better."

"You're not mad?" I wiped my tears.

She smiled and glanced at the door, shaking her head.

"I don't think you're any different than you were before," my mom murmured. "If this is who you are then I'll take it–because you're good."

"You don't hate me?" I asked. "I always thought you would. Abuela used to say—"

"I'm not my mom," she said. She glanced down at our intertwined hands and sighed deeply. I could tell by the way she bit her bottom lip that she was hesitating to say something. "Do you remember when I had that miscarriage?"

I nodded. We never talked about it before, but I remember it clearly. It was a version of my mother that stayed in the past, and a version of her that I hadn't seen since I was a kid.

"I was so worried and guilty about having a new baby," she admitted. "It was more stressful than it was joyful. I spent all that time worrying about the future and then all of a sudden, they were gone. In a moment, just like that." She snapped her fingers, emphasizing how quick the events happened.

"I thought that maybe it was a sign, and all my worries and stress were for a reason." She paused and turned her attention towards the window. "I spent all that time worrying about the future that I never got the chance to enjoy the fact that I would have another child. I regret it to this day, and it's something that I still think about when I see your faces. I blame myself for it all the time even after all these years."

She paused and stared at the bouquet of flowers on the nightstand. I don't think I'll ever fully understand my mom's pain, at least not right now, but I know it's not her fault. But I also know what it's like to blame yourself, and if anyone tried to say anything different, I wouldn't believe them either.

"They never had the chance to fall in love," she whispered. The tears welled in her eyes as she stared at me with her soft brown eyes.

I glanced down at her gentle hands clasping mine.

"I don't want you to live with any regrets, Apollo. So when given the chance to live, I'd rather you take everything you can and hold on to it because that love you feel for Amory is what it's all for."

I smiled at her and nodded.

Fear is a stupid thing. Because why did I think my beautiful mother would ever hate me? All she's ever done is love me unconditionally. Even during the times I never deserved it.

There was a knock at the door, and blond curls peaked through the small window of the door.

"Hi, Elena." Amory slightly opened the door. "I can come back later if—"

My mom shook her head and stood up straightening out her blouse. "I was about to go get something to eat. Please, keep him company," she said, making her way towards the door.

Amory shifted in place as he scratched the back of his neck trying to muster up words. He was still in his pajamas and his hair was a little messier than usual.

"You look cozy," I said, cutting through the silence.

He glanced down at his outfit and chuckled. "I made my dad drive me here as soon as I woke up."

He glanced at the IV drip hanging above my bed. From the way his eyes shifted around the room it seemed like he wasn't fond of hospitals. I guess we have that in common too.

"Are you feeling better?"

I nodded. "Just kinda weak, but I'm okay now."

"Good." He fumbled with his fingers. "I was worried. You looked really sick last night."

"Thanks for coming," I said. "You didn't have to."

"Apollo..." his soft voice lingered in the air. "You were great. The band was great too—but I kept staring at you...You did well."

I swung my legs off the bed and grabbed the IV stand dragging it along with me as I stood up. Amory raced towards me holding onto my arm, trying to support me.

"Apollo, don't get up so fast—"

I wrapped my arms around him, resting my chin in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry."

His arms secured themselves around my waist and he sighed. It was a deep sigh of relief like he was holding his breath, and I realized I was also holding my breath.

"You should lay back down," he said. He pulled away and led me back to the bed. My back gently pressed against the mattress and he smiled. He was probably relieved to see me conscious.

"Come." I reached out for him, grabbing his wrist. He hesitated before sitting on the mattress. I pulled his arm up to come lay closer to me until his body was pressed against mine. I just wanted him to stay there, by my side.

Our eyes met and there was a glint of sadness in his gaze. It was a familiar look, one that I was used to seeing when we were together. It's like he only ever saved this look for me, and it only made me feel worse about us.

I was always hurting him.

He was right about that.

He hid his face in my chest while his hand squeezed my arm. It felt like he was holding on to me so that I wouldn't go. My hand rested in his golden curls, gently combing through his hair.

"I watched the rest of Star Wars."

"Really?" I hummed. His face peaked out and he stared at me. His eyes were more on the green side today, with specs of blue. I've never seen anything like it. It must have been the hospital lights.

"I even watched the prequels," he said.

"Without me?" I frowned.

He nodded. "I missed you." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."

"You weren't wrong." I pressed my check against his head.

"But I also wasn't right."

I shook my head, resting my forehead against his.

"I care about you," I said. "I want to know everything about you."

Amory smiled. It was a small smile, more embarrassed than happy, but it was still a smile.

"I don't know why I'm so afraid of you," I murmured.

"Apollo?" Amory raised his head. "Why would you be afraid of me?" He chuckled.

I shrugged.

I thought about the voicemail, and the box I had left in Jackson's room, the box filled with our things. The things he loved, the things he knew I knew he loved.

I thought about the feeling I had whenever he was around. Like he was home. And I missed all that. And when it was all taken away I never wanted to feel that way again.

I thought about Dr. Gonzales and what she said to me over the phone a couple days ago when I had to cancel my session. She kept insisting that it was important for me to meet her before the anniversary of Jackson's death, so that we could talk about how to handle the day, but I told her I was fine. That I'd be fine. That I didn't need to talk about it, and she said, "I think if you weren't so afraid of doing a little introspection you'd find all the answers you're looking for."

It was easier to shut everything off and push everyone away so that I wouldn't ever have to feel like that again.

But it was so lonely.

But it was better than losing it all again.

If I never get too close, then it won't hurt when they leave.

"I think I love you too much," I said, hiding my face into the pillows.

Amory chuckled. "Isn't that a good thing?"

I shook my head. "When it ends—I don't know how I'll handle it." My voice was muffled through the pillows.

"When?" He questioned. "Apollo, you can't go around thinking everything has an expiration date. You'll never be happy that way.."

I turned my head back to the ceiling and closed my eyes as I released a shaky breath. His hand gently pressed against my cheek and I opened my eyes again to his bright red cheeks and wide grin.

"You should enjoy the people you have in the present. Yeah–sure, someday–technically– it will be gone, but isn't it nice to be loved? In the past, present, or future. Isn't that what this is all about?"

"What?" I asked.

"You know—living."

"Like the meaning of life?" I smiled at his idea.

He nodded. "Yeah, what's it all for if you can't love anything? You're gonna spend your whole life being scared of the one thing that makes this all worth it?"

It's exactly what my mom had said, and I think I know why my mom liked Amory so much. He thought the same way she did.

I stared at him silently, admiring everything about him until his cheeks turned red again.

And I was glad to love him because he is beautiful.