A Thousand Boy Kisses(33)

Rune began to pace, his muscles bunching under his t-shirt. A cold wind blew through the grove and he raked back his hair. Stopping dead, he faced me and spat out, “You promised. You promised me that you’d wait for me to come back. Everything was fine, until one day I called and you didn’t answer. I called and I called, but you never replied. Not a text, nothing!”

He moved until his booted feet were right against mine, towering over me. “Tell me! Tell me right now.” His skin was mottled with the redness born of his anger. “I deserve to goddamn know!”

I flinched at the aggression in his voice. Flinched at the venom in his words. Flinched at the stranger standing before me.

The old Rune would never have spoken to me like this. But then I reminded myself this wasn’t the Rune of old.

“I-I can’t,” I stuttered, barely above a whisper. Lifting my eyes, I saw the incredulous look on his face. “Please, Rune,” I begged, “Don’t push this. Just leave it.” I swallowed, then forced myself to say, “Leave us … leave us in the past. We should move on.”

Rune’s head snapped back as though I had punched him.

Then he laughed. He laughed, but the sound held no humor. It was laced with fury, coated with rage.

Rune stepped one pace backward. His hands shook at his sides and he laughed one more time. Icily, he demanded, “Tell me.”

I shook my head, trying to protest. He lifted his hands to his hair in frustration. “Tell me,” he repeated. His voice had lowered an octave and radiated menace.

This time I didn’t shake my head. Sadness had rendered me motionless. Sadness at seeing Rune like this. He was always quiet and withdrawn. His mamma had told me on more than one occasion that Rune had always been a sullen child. She had always feared he would give her trouble. She had told me that his innate predisposition had been to snap at people and to keep himself to himself. Even as a child she noticed an air of moodiness about him, his inclination to be negative instead of positive.

But then he found you, she said. He found you. You taught him, through your words and actions, that life didn’t always have to be so serious. That life was to be lived. That life was one great adventure, to be lived well and to the full.

His mamma had been right all along.

I realized, as I watched the darkness exude from this boy, that this was the Rune Mrs. Kristiansen had expected—no, feared—he would become. This was the innate moodiness she knew was harbored below the surface of her son.

A predilection to darkness, not light.

Staying quiet, I decided to turn away. To leave Rune alone with his rage.

Moonbeam hearts and sunshine smiles. I ran my mamaw’s mantra through my head. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to repel the pain trying to flood in. Tried to stave off this ache in my chest, the ache that told me what I didn’t want to believe.

That I had done this to Rune.

I made to move forward, to leave, self-preservation seizing control. As I did, I felt desperate fingers wrap around my wrist and spin me back around.

Rune’s pupils had all but consumed his crystal-blue irises. “No! Stand right here. Stand right here and tell me.” He took in a long breath, and, losing all control, he shouted, “Tell me why the hell you left me all alone!”

This time, his anger was unbounded. This time, his hard words contained the force of a slap to the face. The blossom grove before me blurred; it took me a while to realize that it was my tears clouding my vision.

A tear fell to my cheek. Rune’s dark gaze didn’t waver.

“Who are you?” I whispered. I shook my head as Rune continued to stare, a slight tightening at the corner of his eyes the only evidence that my words had any effect. “Who are you right now?” I glanced down at his fingers, still around my wrist. Feeling my throat close, I said, “Where is the boy I love?” Risking one more look at his face, I whispered, “Where is my Rune?”

Suddenly, Rune ripped his fingers from my arm as though my skin was scalding to the touch. A nasty laugh spilled from his lips as he stared me down. His hand lifted to delicately smooth down my hair—a contradictory softness in the gesture compared to the venom with which he spoke. “You want to know where that boy went?” I swallowed as he searched every part of my face—every feature but my eyes. “You want to know where your Rune went?” His lip curled in disgust. As if my Rune was someone unworthy. As if my Rune wasn’t worth all the love that I had for him.

Leaning in, he met my eyes, his stare so severe that shivers darted down my spine. Harshly, he whispered, “That Rune died when you left him all alone.” I tried to turn away, but Rune jumped in my path, making it impossible to escape his scathing cruelty. I dragged in a hurt breath, but Rune wasn’t done. I could see in his eyes that he was far from done.

“I waited for you,” he said. “I waited and waited for you to call, to explain. I called everyone I knew back here, trying to find you. But you’d vanished. Gone to care for some sick aunt I know doesn’t exist. Your daddy wouldn’t talk to me when I tried; you all blocked me out.” His lips tightened as he relived the pain. I saw it. I saw it in his every move, his every word; he had been transported back to that painful place.

“I told myself to be patient, that you would explain everything in time. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, I stopped waiting with hope. Instead, I let in the pain. I let in the darkness that you created. As a year came and went, and my letters and messages went unanswered, I let the pain take hold of me until there was nothing left of the old Rune. Because I couldn’t look in the mirror one more day, couldn’t walk in the shoes of that Rune for one more damn day. Because that was the Rune that had you. That Rune was the Rune that had Poppymin. That Rune was the one with a full heart. Your half and mine. But your half abandoned me. It left, and allowed what I have now to take root. Darkness. Pain. A shitload of anger.”