Macy's P.O.V.

I was unaware of the mess that I had been involved in. Being confident, positive, and persistent seemed to solve the problem in most situations, whatever the problem may be. It had helped when I moved away, when I introduced myself to Jonathan, when I tried —actually still trying — to open his eyes to the positivity the world provides.

His current situation proved to me that positivity, even as much as I felt, wasn't enough to create rid me of this torturous ache in my heart and a nauseating feeling in my stomach.

Our prior conversation shared no indication that Jonathan's mother would pull away from life support. Although I didn't know her personally, I was monumentally glad that the pain was no longer plaguing her. But another part of me — a selfish part — despised the fact that she would leave Jonathan. He needed her.

When I answered the call, Jonathan's voice was practically unstable.

"Macy," he had croaked out.

The first word was all I needed to know that something was terribly wrong. He continued to talk though, a forced amused tone aligning his words.

"She was such a beautiful woman," he quietly laughed. "Notice that it was past tense."

It quickly clicked and my head was spinning in anxiety as I worried about Jonathan's mental health. "Sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry."

"You know, that's the first time I've ever really heard you cuss," Jonathan mentioned. I thought back to the argument we had in the forest and I remember saying 'damn' there, though that probably didn't seem at all bad to Jonathan. "It's fine though, Macy. There's just a lot going through my head right now."

"I can pick you and Baby up. I'll call a cab. We can go back home and then get your car in the morning," I said hurriedly. I didn't want him driving right now. The thought of him doing something reckless made my stomach churn.

There was a steady silence. "Jonathan? Please? I just want to know you're safe and I want you to come home."

It never really struck me that those words made me sound like a lovesick girlfriend. The fact didn't matter because everything I said was true. I desperately needed Jonathan to be safe.

"You don't have to come all the way here. I'll be sleeping in the backseat of the truck tonight. If it makes you feel any better, I can FaceTime you until I fall asleep."

Was it pathetic that he was offering me comfort in his own dire situation? It truly was, but I appreciated it. The call ended suddenly and not a second later, a FaceTime call had sounded and Jonathan's face had appeared on the screen.

His dark hair was disheveled. The blue eyes I had fallen so deeply in were hollow, dull. The skin around his eyes was puffy, enough to tell that he had been crying.

"Are you okay? I know that it's a stupid question and that you're probably not, but I just need to know that you won't do anything stupid."

A smile lit up his face and for a slight second, he was happy.

"I'll be fine, Macy. I promise that as soon as I wake up, I'll come straight home. Just please keep talking. How was your day?"

That was the moment where I had realized that Jonathan needed to talk to me as much as I needed to talk to him. We did it for our own selfish reasons; Jonathan's being that he didn't want to have to think about the death of his mother and mine being that I just needed to know he'd come back to me.

"As much as I'd love to share the boring details of me going to work, you should talk about this, Jonathan. I know it must hurt, but don't ignore it."

His voice cracked. "I miss her so much already. As horrible as it sounds, I prepared myself for her death. I tried — I really did — to stay positive, but there was no doubt that this would eventually come. I thought I prepared myself, but as soon as reality happened, I knew that my preparation meant absolutely nothing. I just needed more time. I fucked up. I should've stayed with her and I should've taken care of her instead of leaving her with my asshole of a father."

How could he blame himself for this? He was the only one who truly loved her. I wish I could have been one of those people, but she only had Jonathan. Just by being there, Jonathan had helped her get better.

"You were everything to her, Jonathan and you did a lot more for her than what any other person would do. You took care of her, never abandoned her, always loved her. You made her happy and that's why she lived to her fullest extent. Don't doubt yourself or blame yourself for anything, because we both know you're everything that kept her world together and mine."

I saw his chest rise and fall in deep breaths. His eyes were closed now but I knew that he was still listening, just trying to think.

"And you keep mine from falling apart. Stay with me until I fall asleep?" He asked.

I gladly obliged after letting out a soft chuckle at Baby licking his face. We didn't talk much after that. He was tired and I completely understood. So I did stay, the last thing I saw being Jonathan's serene face as he slept in front of phone.

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I woke up in a sort of daze. My legs were wobbly and I getting to the bathroom to get ready was dizzying, but I had managed. After getting ready, I grabbed my phone from my bed only to discover that I had wasted the battery last night.

So I plugged my phone in and went downstairs to check the time. No one was home.

"Gran?"

There was no response and so I walked to the old clock in the living room. It read 11:30. My grandparents must have left to work earlier and didn't bother to wake me up. I was thankful for that. My first instinct was to walk to Jonathan's, but I quickly made a small breakfast consisting of a bagel, cream cheese, and hot chocolate. Then I had grabbed my phone upstairs, at a whopping 19%, and walked to Jonathan's. A sense of relief flooded me, seeing that his truck was parked in front, but so was another. A truck that I didn't recognize at all.

I walked to the door and knocked. The person who opened the door wasn't the person I expected it to be.

"Jonathan, there's a beautiful young lady at your door," the man said with a teasing grin.

I examined him, not caring if he noticed. The dark hair that was a bit shorter than Jonathan's, the same shaded blue eyes, the same defined facial structures. The identity behind this person was easy to deduce and before I had any thought to what I should say, my backhand quickly slapped again his right cheek.

He groaned in pain, clutching the side of his face. Though, confusion or anger never settled in his eyes. Only curiosity and amusement.

"So I take it, my little brother has told you about me."

Pushing the man back, I stepped inside the house to see Jonathan sitting on his couch looking completely livid, yet I saw the slightest hint of a smile in my direction.

"How long have you been here?" I asked Jonathan's brother.

"Just three minutes ago, I was strolling in through this same door. Can't say that I didn't get the same treatment. Well, Jonathan had taken it a lot more personally than you had so I got a punch to the face and the stomach when I came in. I'm Callum."

My eyes searched Jonathan's in confusion, unsure if I should greet myself. His eyes told me yes.

"I'm Macy Kerjoff."

"Jonathan's?"

"Neighbor and friend." I didn't glance at Jonathan when I said this, knowing that by doing so, I'd obviously reveal that my feelings for him were more than platonic.

Callum smirked. "Well, I guess I have a chance, don't I?"

I rolled my eyes in disgust, but the thought still came to me. Callum was basically an older version by eight years of Jonathan — physically, of course — which sparked my interest the tiniest bit. Mentally, they were two different people and I definitely wasn't for a man who left his brother without a word, sends a hopeless message, and shows up at the latest time.

"In your dreams. Now you better shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down and tell me why you're even here," I growled, the aggressive words feeling foreign on my tongue, yet invigorating.

"She's got quite a mouth on her, doesn't she?" Callum asked Jonathan, smiling cheekily at his younger brother. "I remember little fourteen-year old Jonathan would have found that pretty hot."

My thoughts roamed everywhere else except there to keep my cheeks at a normal shade of pink.

"I want to hear this too," Jonathan frowned, finally getting up to stand next to me while Callum smiled lazily while taking a seat on the recliner.

"I'm here to arrange my mother's funeral with my beloved younger brother and maybe get a shot with his feisty neighbor."

That was when I bitch-slapped him a second time.

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Woah. A second update! I have absolutely no inspiration for my book, 'Angel Wings' right now so I decided to write a +1500 word chapter in less than an hour because I didn't want to do my homework. Surprise, surprise.
Callum isn't exactly what you'd see in a supportive big brother, but I'm liking him, a lot. Vote and comment on how you feel about his whole mess of a chapter

And as always I hope ye enjoyed(:)

P.S. This is horribly unedited so if I made a ton of mistakes, I'm sorry. And also, if any of you know if I gave Jonathan's brother a different name before, please comment cause I wasn't sure if I mentioned his actual name in one of the previous chapters so I just went with Callum

-lovelylittleturtles