Mágoa (noun)

- a heartbreaking feeling that leaves long-lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions.

~*~

Everyone had a chapter that they didn't read out loud. I'd learnt that at this point. We all fought battles and sometimes we surrendered, no matter how hard we strived to push through. We left those battles with wounds that never disappear.

I had no concept of what to expect when I inspected the unlocked door leading into Liam's house. Christian shot me a concerned look from the driver's seat and for a second I wondered how much energy he required to convey just the smallest bit of emotion into his features.

"I'll be fine," I murmured, eyes levelled on the wreck that was Liam's motorcycle. Dirt was dispersed all around it and the lawn appeared to be shredded out by the intensity of the motorcycle crash.

Patting Christian's hand that was on the steering wheel, I climbed out of the car, reminding him to put all of the groceries away once he got home. I didn't exactly want Dad burdened with that job. He was tired enough as it was.

Within a few seconds, the car disappeared down the street and I took in a big gulp of air, needing to prepare myself for whatever was going to greet me inside that house. On the way here, Sabrina had called me again, explaining that she and her aunt had both gotten phone calls from a neighbour who complained about crashes coming from their house.

I looked to my left just in time to see a bald man slide inside his house, having been observing me since I climbed out of the car. Spreading a hand over my face, I moved across the demolished lawn before trying to quieten my footfalls as I entered the house.

It was quiet and it confounded me. The neighbour complained about bangs and I questioned whether it was a singular crash having been produced by the motorcycle. As I peeped around into the living room, my heart dropped and practically fell out of my ass.

Liam was an absolute mess. His face was red and puffy from God knows what and there were dull bags underneath his once luminous eyes. He sat with his left arm encircled tightly around his legs, pulling it closer to his chest.

In his right hand was a half-filled bottle of beer, threatening to collapse to the ground due to the slack grip he had on it. Scattered around the living room were four empty bottles of beer and what looked like fragmented remnants of another one.

I raised a hand to my mouth to overcome a gasp, blood running cold at the sight of Liam being surrounded by alcohol. In the time that I'd known him, I hadn't seen him take one sip of it which made the current moment all the more wretched.

My eyes were lustrous with an unshed bed of tears as I observed Liam break down in front of me. A stray tear trailed down my cheek when I blinked and tore my gaze from him.

"Liam," I rustled gently and rubbed my tears away. I needed to be strong for Liam. I needed to be strong for both of us. Personally, I was the wrong person to control this situation. If someone showed even the most minuscule impression that they were going to cry - I'd start crying my eyes out.


Liam shook his head slowly when I made to move towards him, paying close attention not to step on the splintered glass. The fluffy slippers I wore to go grocery shopping surely wouldn't shield me from glass shards.

"Don't," he croaked out, voice dehydrated due to all the drinking he'd done. He couldn't even get any more words out before he hiccupped.


"Liam, please," I implored, voice breaking as I spoke. There were no words to express how much it stung seeing Liam like this. He wasn't crying and I wasn't even sure if he could hear me or not.


After a few seconds of silence, Liam lifted his head and blinked furiously, wiping at his red face aggressively. A loud hiccup escaped his chapped lips when he attempted to verbalise and the sound caused my heart to compress painfully.

"It's funny," he grumbled out and continued swaying his head as he gesticulated to the bottle in his hand, the liquid sloshing with the movement. "Who would have thought that a simple bottle of booze could cause so much damage?"

It was a rhetorical question and I watched him chuckle darkly. My nerves were on edge and the hairs at the nape of my neck were prickling. Instead of probing him to continue, I slipped into the kitchen and seized a broom before starting to tidy up the crushed glass.

Apparently, I got his attention with that because he gaped at me for the first time, his thick brows pounding in what appeared to be melancholy. The next second he murmured in a husky voice, "no, baby. You don't need to do that."

"I know. But I want to," I told him, voice tender. "You're drunk and I don't want you to hurt yourself by stepping on these," I added dubiously, doubtful whether he would snap at the mention of his current state.

He laughed humourlessly and took another swig of the booze. "Do I look drunk to you?" he challenged. "I've had more than six bottles of beer before, Blondie. I've been drinking since the age of fourteen. I can handle my booze just fine."

The defeat in his tone was what made me let out a sniffle. The Liam I knew didn't drink alcohol. He never went close to them at parties. "You don't drink, Liam." I recommenced sweeping, not wanting to see the distress floating in his eyes.

"Not anymore," he grunted and wiped at his face with the sleeves of his jacket, the denim prompting his skin to become more red and irritated. "But today I thought why not? Just for old times sake."

"No," I interposed piercingly. 

Liam nodded slowly as I merely gawked at him, examining his body for any injuries due to his crash outside. There was dirt on his jeans and t-shirt but that was it. I groaned grievously before taking a seat on the chair opposite him.

"I don't even know who I am. Martin was right when he warned you to stay away from me. I'm a horrible person." There was no emotion in his voice. He sounded defeated.

"You're not a horrible person," I countered, moving to sit next to him this time and smoothly guided the bottle out of his grip. He didn't fight me and instead let me place the bottle onto the coffee table.

When I attempted to get him to look at me so he could see that I was serious, he turned away, licking his dehydrated lips. I reminded myself to get him a glass of water. "You know I've got a mom?" he asked abruptly and shot me a glimpse as if anticipating me to be shocked. But I wasn't. Sabrina already let it slip that they had another living relative and so dod Aunt Judy. "She's healthy and living her best life on the other side of town."

He stared at me for a while and I apprehended that he wanted me to question him. He didn't want to feel weak and spill everything. He wanted to be questioned about it. "Why's she not with you?" I inquired.

"Because she hates me," he acknowledged easily, messing his hair up as he sank back into his seat and I scooted closer, praying that he wasn't trying to distance himself, not at a time like this. "After my dad died she vanished and left us with Aunt Judy. Hasn't kept in contact with me since," his voice quivered. "She'd invite Brina over for lunch, but never me."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and clenched my fists. "Why would she do that?"

A snort escaped him but he wasn't laughing. "Because she hates me," he reiterated as if all the solutions were in that shallow declaration. "She called me at the party." I raised a brow at the mention of the phone call that caused him to spiral. "For a second, I allowed my resolve to weaken. I allowed myself to be weak for just that moment because my mom was contacting me."

No matter how hard I tried to stifle it, tears were building in my eyes. "Liam," I murmured, placing my hand on his but he stayed motionless, cold.

"But it turns out she just called to say that she was getting remarried this weekend and it'd be in my best interest to stay away." My heart physically ached for him and I let out a hiccup, placing my free hand over my mouth. "That's where Brina is right now. At my mom's wedding. I only just found out after finding the stupid invitation in the trash."

I couldn't comprehend how or why his mother would push him away like that. Particularly after the demise of his father. Glimpsing around at the bottles, I surmised why he had his outburst. His mother isolated him, made him feel alone. And the one time he permitted himself to be open, she shut him down.

I could understand why Liam favoured keeping his emotions masked. It gave people less ammo to shoot him down. And poor Sabrina, who loved her brother dearly, was contended. She clearly still loved her mother but she didn't want to hurt her brother's feelings either.

"That was wrong of her, " I contrived to speak around the block in my throat.

He shook his head, blinking slowly and I assumed his eyes were burning because he kept them closed for a second too long. His shoulders were trembling and I sniffled. That was the worst kind of pain. Wanting to cry but you couldn't. "No. It wasn't." He reached for the beer but I grabbed both of his hands and kept them on my lap.

"It was," I emphasised and he looked agitated at the fact that I was keeping him from drinking. I was not going to let him fall back into old habits. The first time I met him he refused to drink alcohol. He'd come a long way based on what he just told me about drinking at such a young age. I was proud of him. Even if no one else was.

I was.

"It wasn't," he riposted in that same emotionless tone. "She has good reasons. She blames me for my dad's death. If I hadn't snuck out to go to Martin's party, my dad wouldn't have had to leave the house and he definitely wouldn't have gotten into a fucking car accident."

I visibly bristled in my seat and tightened my grip on his hands. "You can't take the blame for something like that."

He ripped his hands out of my hold. "Really?"

As he began coughing, I quickly went to get a bottle of water from the fridge before placing it in his hands. "Really." Once he gulped down some water, I picked up the empty bottles and arranged them on the table.

"My dad was in the passenger seat," he stated, voice sounding better after taking a sip of the cool liquid. "He didn't deserve what happened."

I swept the shards into a corner where it'd be out of the way and asked, "then how can it be your fault?" Clearly, it was the cab driver's fault. I hoped that they sued the company.

"I was in the driver's seat."

My head whipped to the side so quickly that I heard the crack in my neck. My lips parted as if I wanted to say something but the thing was– I didn't know how to respond to that statement. Liam was staring into the distance, fidgeting with his hands. "What?" It was the dumbest question ever but I couldn't take my words back.

"I was driving the car when we crashed. A truck hit us out of nowhere," he confessed emotionlessly. "When my dad showed up at the party, I got so angry because he was always on my case. Dad asked me if I'd been drinking and I lied. I stole his keys and climbed in the car. He had no choice but to follow me, ultimately leading to his death."


"I'm sorry," I felt my eyes begin to water again and I wiped at them furiously as I listened to him speak. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Liam."

"I just," Liam frustratedly ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip to prevent a sob from escaping. He looked at me with watery brown eyes. "I just wish that I wasn't such an angry kid. My anger was what killed my dad. I killed him."

I choked on my words, mind still reeling at the revelation. His mom's behaviour made more sense but I still believed she didn't have the right to hate her own kid. "Interesting. It's your mouth but sounds like your mom's words."

Liam practically growled, the rage manifest in both his tone and wild eyes. "You should leave." He stood up and I expected him to stagger but he didn't even look the least bit of intoxicated.

"Why?" my voice was fainter now and his glare diminished. "Because I actually see the good in you? Because you're allowing yourself to be vulnerable with me?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, on the verge of tears. "You deserve so much better than whatever this is." He gestured to the mess he created, including himself. "Someone who's emotions aren't constantly at war. Whatever you need, you're not gonna find it here, Blondie. That conversation with my mom made me realise that I don't deserve all of the good people in my life. Look how I've dragged you along. You opened your heart to me and what have I given you? Nothing. I can't give you what you need."

I stepped closer to him, feeling exasperation and resentment bubble in my soul. Outrage at his mom for making him feel like shit, fury at him for assuming what I needed and anger at the world for being so fucked up.

"I don't need whatever it is you're thinking. What I need is for you to cry. Because you've been keeping all of this inside and it's not healthy. I need you to see what I see. Do I look disgusted by you right now, Liam? The answer is no. You might see pain and anger but I see strength."

"Blondie-"

"Only real men carry the weight of their burden," I cut him off stepping even closer. 


Liam looked up and met my gaze. His own coffee-stained eyes were glossy but he wouldn't cry – he couldn't. "I killed my dad."

Shaking my head, I let a sad smile grace my lips. "I killed my mom."

I couldn't help that my birth killed my mom in the same way that Liam couldn't have sensed that a truck was about to hit them. He'd said it himself and even I could see that he could handle his alcohol very well. He was fully capable of driving that night. But after the death of his dad, he needed someone to accuse and he blamed himself.

"That's not the same-"

He was cut off as I moved forward and pressed my moist lips onto his own. I clutched his t-shirt so tightly as if I was frightened he was going to disappear. At first, Liam didn't react and that made me flounder. I froze and pulled away from him but he grasped the nape of my neck and pulled me back to him. He sheathed his arms around me and lifted me so that he could kiss me better.

"Bad timing for a first kiss," he murmured in between kisses. We grabbed at one another even though we couldn't get any closer. Neither of us cared that the kiss was becoming messy. Our touches were becoming sloppy and we got a mouthful of teeth each time our lips coincided. His lips tasted like beer and I found myself craving it.

Liam intended to be gentle but he couldn't help it and kissed me hard, slamming me back into the wall. His arms were bound so tightly around me that at the back of my mind, I wondered if I'd have bruises. My concern quickly faded once I let out a long sigh of pleasure as he trailed kisses down my jaw. He pulled away slightly, leaning his forehead against my own. After a beat of silence, he whispered, "I love you."

"Huh," I murmured, eyes closed and cheeks a bright red colour. My mind couldn't even process what just happened. Talk about a mindblowing first kiss. But his words, they were playing on a loop in my head.

Liam wiped at my tear-stained cheeks. "You don't have to say it back, okay?" I nodded slowly with a small smile, not wanting to interrupt him even though I was certain I felt the same way. "I just needed to let you know. Blondie, you have no idea how much you've helped me in the time that I've known you."

Thinking back to how he helped me come out of my shell and go against the status quo, I had a pretty good idea about what he meant.

"I was wrong about you. You're a tortoise and I thought I needed to be invited inside your shell." He looked wholly confused so I continued. "But it turns out, tortoises are their shells. Your past is always going to be part of you. What matters is that you overcome it and not let it hold you back."

His brows furrowed and there was still torment in his eyes so I recommenced speaking, wrapping my arms around him. "You're tired. Right now, what I want you to do is cry, Liam."

"I'm not gonna cry," he snapped but the tears in his eyes said contrarily.

"You've been carrying this burden for too long. You've been suppressing your anger and forcing yourself to forget it. You can't just let that go. Channel it into a different emotion. Mourn. Allow yourself to grieve instead of blaming yourself. Even after what you just told me, even if you begin sobbing right now-" I pulled him down closer to me so that I could whisper. "I'm still going to love you."

And that was all it took for the walls Liam built to disintegrate as he slumped into my arms, letting out everything he'd kept back for so long as I stroked his back, pressing kisses to his head. Life didn't get any easier, people just got stronger.

And Liam Finnegan had the strength of ten thousand men.