Page 109 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

The automated response plays, then a beep sounds. “Hey, Oli.” He takes a breath. “Just calling again because I miss you.”

He hangs up, and I crook an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“I don’t know what else to say that I haven’t already.”

I think about it, wondering what I would’ve wanted him to say when we were broken up last year. Oh, how I dreamed of getting a call from Phoenix, but it never came. That part hurts. But I understand why he didn’t. “Maybe text him and say you’re sorry you weren’t there when he needed you to be?”

Phoenix blinks away some tears. “I can try.”

“Fight for him,” I whisper. “Like you did for me.”

He leans over to steal a kiss, then types out the text. I read it with him.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been. If you let me, I’d like to be there now, Oli.

Whenever you’re ready.

I squeeze his hand as the screen shows Oliver read it. And I swear, my breath hitches the same time Phoenix’s does. He’s writing back.

“You got this, baby,” I tell him.

When the text comes through, I know today isn’t the day he gets his brother back.

Oliver: I’m not ready. I don’t know when or if I ever will be.

“Fuck,” Phoenix cries, chucking his phone beside him and clinging to me. He wedges his face against my chest, and I curl my arms around him.

“Shh,” I soothe, rubbing his back while his tears stain my shirt.

“See? See what I’m talking about? It’s pointless. And I’m sick of my heart breaking because he won’t give me a chance.”

Maybe it’s different because how I feel about Phoenix isn’t comparable to a sibling relationship. He’s told me before that Oliver is his blood, but I’m his heart.

Throughout our relationship, Phoenix has never shied away from how close he used to be with Oliver. He’d often tell me how he felt like Oliver had been his twin growing up despite the three-year age difference.

I’d imagine, for Oliver, that Phoenix had beenhisheart. I have no way to confirm it, though. It’s just a gut feeling.

I suppose it’s because that’s how I feel about him, too. When all you’ve seen in the mirror is a flawed, broken reflection, you tend to latch on to whatever will give you a different image. That’s what Phoenix did for me whenever I’d let him. When I’d let down my walls just enough for him to peer over and see me, feel that desperation for a life rope—someone to pull me out of it. I used to think it’d be Phoenix to do it, but after these past few months and understanding how my head works, I know it was never meant to be him.

Ihad to do it. I had to be my wrecking ball and destroy those barriers.

There are still some; the walls are tough to tear down, but theyarecrumbling. And with those beams of light streaming in, I can see something better on the other side. I can see a chance at a future. And fuck if I’m not pushing myself to move rubble faster than I ever have before to get to it. I think Oliver is comfortable in his fortress. I don’t think he wants Phoenix to peek in yet. Or maybe he needs a different way of leaving it. Something neither he nor Phoenix can provide.

I just don’t know. But I understand it.

“Hey,” I whisper, curling my fingers under his chin. His pretty chimera eyes glisten behind his tears. “I want to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Is Oli worth waiting for?”

“Of course,” he sniffles.

“Then what’s the rush?”

“I’m not rushing.”

“You are.” I kiss his forehead.

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