room.
Why did I expect to be left alone? This is the Vestige, after all.
"How did you know my brother?"
We enter my room, and he comes inside, shutting the door behind him. His face changes, a subtle look of pain masking his normal, blasé facial expressions, throwing me off.
"I loved him," Parris responds. "What happened?"
The way he doesn't seem as confident or sure of himself isn't expected, but it makes me wonder if he's right, if he's being truthful. Earlier, I kind of thought so.
Cassidy never told me he was gay. He never even made it seem that way either. He dated a couple of girls, or so I was told. My brother was so private in every endeavor. When he succeeded beyond my understanding, it surprised me to no end because he never boasted.
There were times I felt the need to eat some humble pie while around him, he never outshined anyone, even when he acted jealous over my friendships with his friends.
But as time passes and I think of those moments, it doesn't feel like jealousy. It feels like an overprotective brother wanting the best for me, unwilling to bend to the will of what society said about brothers being overbearing.
He wasn't.
I just didn't see it before.
He kept me away from them because they were Emeralds.
He wanted me away from Student Gov because he knew it was best for me.
Not once did he ever force me, but he asked, and I refused.
Look at us now.
He’s buried six-feet under, and I’m stuck in this big ass estate, with zero control, not knowing what life will be like tonight, let alone when I finally escape this place.
“What was he like when he didn’t have to be himself?” The question tumbles out without a second thought. I wish I knew that side of Cass, the one where love conquered all, and while it was secret, he could escape the boundaries of this bloodline and go forth with loving someone besides me.
Parris walks over to the closet, opening the door. I follow him, and he sits on the lounger in the center and points at the dresses hanging up in clothing bags.
“They’ll be here to see which one suits you best, but I’m sure we have five or so minutes before then.”
I try not to grumble, knowing these dresses aren’t my norm. None of this bullshit attire, and black hair is my normal. It’s a facade, a mask they force upon me.
We all wear masks.
I wave at him and then turn to the garment bags. Unzipping the first one, I hiss as if it’s burned me. It’s pink, not a hot pink that I could force myself to wear, but a pale one. It has a princess neckline and flowers binding the fabric. It’s what someone would wear to a fashion show where anyone with taste would gag over.
“We met playing video games,” Parris starts as I go for the next dress. “He and I got put in the same group for the championships at one of the competitions, and we got along really well.”
I smile, thinking of Cass with his mic stand, headphones, and angry words at the screen. “Imposter?” I muse aloud, thinking of all the times I watched him play.
Turning to him, I see a faraway look in his eyes and can’t help but smile from it. I go back to my dress unveiling, and he must take that as a cue to continue.
“We had a lot of fun, talked daily, and then I finally got restless.”
“What do you mean?” I question, unzipping the next bag finally. My hands touch the golden fabric with awe.
“I wanted to meet, he didn’t.” Parris doesn’t laugh, and neither do I, knowing why he wouldn’t. “Eventually, at our away game in Vegas...”
“L-Las Vegas?” I whimper, leaving the dress to face him fully. My eyes well, feeling that pinprick of fear for him, for the situation, knowing that Cass never truly had a chance at love.
If they only met in Vegas, that means they only experienced each other for a few weeks at best.
“Yeah,” he confirms, clearing his throat. “We admitted our feelings for each other and spent the weekend after the game together.”
The tears overwhelm me, and fall down my cheeks, unbearable ache that has festered coming forward. They don’t stop, even though they’re silent. It isn’t until Parris taps my shoulder that I realize I’d been quiet for too long.
“What’s wrong?”
“Other than the obvious?” I cry, and he nods with a grimace. “He