Alaric
My mother held me quietly against her chest while the cold Monaco wind moved softly through the terrace around us.
Somewhere below the cliffs, waves crashed violently against the rocks, but even that sound felt distant compared to the chaos still pounding endlessly inside my head.
I hated everything about this moment.
I hated the tears burning against my face. I hated losing control in front of my family after spending years pretending that I was fine. Most of all, I hated that Dami had witnessed every second of it.
Humiliation curled heavily inside my chest, mixing painfully with the guilt that never truly left me no matter how many years passed.
And somehow, despite my mother trying to comfort me, despite her arms wrapped around me gently like she used to when I was younger, I still found myself craving something else entirely.
Someone else.
Someone who understood me in ways nobody else ever could.
Someone like Harold.
Or Nico.
