Aster sat motionless, his thoughts a tangled storm of memories and realizations. The room felt colder now, like the weight of the truth had drained the warmth from the air. Celeste and Andrew had fallen silent, giving him space, but Rea… she was still watching him.
Her hands were curled into fists against her lap, her eyes searching his face. She wasn't speaking, but she didn't need to. Aster could feel her presence—steady, unwavering.
But it didn't stop his mind from spinning.
Jaxon's voice still rang in his head, sharp and brutal:
"You don't deserve this life."
Aster let out a slow, uneven breath. He had spent years convincing himself that Jaxon's hatred was nothing more than sibling rivalry gone wrong. That it was fueled by arrogance, by jealousy. But now, with everything out in the open, he could see the truth.
Jaxon had been suffering in silence. And Aster—blind, angry Aster—had never even thought to ask why.
He had never questioned why Jaxon's punches always landed with such raw force. Why his words cut deeper than anyone else's. Why, no matter how many times they fought, there was always something in Jaxon's eyes that looked like pain.
Aster's fingers curled into his palms, nails digging into his skin.
He wasn't sure what was worse—the fact that he had never realized it before, or the fact that there was nothing he could do to change it now.
---
Aster's memories churned, flickering through every moment he and Jaxon had ever clashed.
The first time Jaxon punched him.
Aster had been thirteen. Jaxon had been sixteen. It had been after an argument—one that started over something stupid, something Aster didn't even remember anymore. But what he did remember was the moment Jaxon snapped.
"You don't get it, do you?" Jaxon had snarled. "You think this life is normal? You think you deserve it?"
Aster had scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, actually, I do."
The next second, Jaxon's fist had collided with his face, knocking him to the ground.
Aster had expected him to stop after that—expected it to be a one-time thing. But Jaxon had stood over him, breathing hard, his knuckles trembling.
And then he'd hit him again. And again.
And that was when Aster had realized—this wasn't just a fight.
This was personal.
"We have the same father, you know," Aster had spat through bloody teeth, trying to push himself up. "Whatever you hate about him, you should hate about yourself, too."
Jaxon had frozen.
Just for a second.
Then his face had twisted with something unreadable.
And he'd hit Aster harder than ever before.
---
Back to the Present
Aster let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head.
"Jaxon always told me I looked like Collaway," he muttered. "Like it was an insult. Like it was the worst thing I could ever be."
Celeste and Andrew didn't say anything.
Rea finally spoke. "Because, to him, it was the worst thing."
Aster exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "And I threw it back in his face. Every single time."
Rea hesitated. "You didn't know."
Aster huffed a humorless laugh. "Didn't I, though?" His voice was rough. "I might not have known the full truth, but I knew enough. I knew he hated me, and instead of figuring out why, I just fought him back. I just made it worse."
Rea studied him carefully. "So what now?"
Aster didn't answer right away.
Because, for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure.
For years, Jaxon had been his enemy. The person who had made his life hell. The one who had beaten him down over and over again.
But now…
Now, Aster wasn't sure if they were enemies at all.
Maybe they never had been.