ivy ; malachi barton

chapter nineteen ; vortex

"i know it's not my fault, sometimes it feels like i did this. someday i'll be able to let you go, someday i'll be kinder to myself." vortex; lizzy mcalpine.

evelyn

I don't think I'll ever live down the fact that I fell apart in his arms that day.

I didn't want to. I hated the fact that I did, the fact that I let myself show him all the deep, intricate parts of myself. He saw my raw emotions, my unfiltered sobs and cries. In the moment, I couldn't think of anything but him and me.

He held me, and we were the only things that existed. It was Malachi and I, and that's how I wanted it to be. But then, as the tears slowed, reality came crashing back down on me.

And I was humiliated.

The room fell silent, apart from my occasional sniffles of residue desperation. I suddenly remembered the state I was in, grasping onto my towel to keep it wrapped tightly around me.

Overcome with embarrassment, I pulled away from the firm hold of Malachi. I was sat in his lap, my wet cheeks smeared with red hot fear. The boy looked down at me with an unreadable expression, stroking the side of my face ever so softly.

His eyes. His eyes were so perfect; so warm and dark. If I kept staring, I would get lost in them forever, sucked into the endless abyss that is Malachi Barton. The gentle beauty of his face, the sinister curve of his lips, everything about him gave me more and more reason to give in to him.

I couldn't. I wasn't ready.

"I... uhm, sorry." I sniffled, brushing my hair over my shoulder and averting his gaze. Malachis hand rested softly on my lower back, still trying to hold me close as I stood from his lap.

"Why are you sorry, Evy?" He quietly inquired, tilting his head. I would never be able to erase that look of pity on his face, baring down on me like another hefty weight.

"This is just... I don't want you to see me like this. I can't, Malachi. I can't talk to you about this. I can't talk to anyone."

This seemed to upset the boy even more. He looked pained, as if my own salty tears had wounded him. "Not even Ari? Or Brady?"

I felt a pang in my chest at his words. I grasped the towel tighter as I took a few spacial steps away from Malachi. He hated the fact that me and Brady had something, but he'd rather me talk to him than talk to no one at all.

But Brady... Brady wasn't the first thought in my mind at the moment.

Not being able to bring myself to reply, I lowered my head. The carpet beneath my feet appeared to swirl in meticulous, spellbinding movements.

"I'll tell everyone that you aren't feeling well. You just... get dressed, and I'll be back in a minute, okay?" Malachi eventually said, encouraging me to look up from the ground. My piercing glare towards him dulled at that; and so did the light I shone on him. Maybe, Malachi wasn't as bad as I thought.

Maybe, that was all a front. Maybe Malachi was broken, like me, but in a complete different way. He needed to be guarded and stiff, not let anyone in. I needed never ending support, loving kindness and affection.

Our story was that of a doomed end waiting to implode. But the question was, would either of us back away before it was too late?

🫧

When Malachi left my room, I quickly retreated back to the bathroom to get changed. I avoided the mirror like it was cursed; in some ways, it was. I was cursed with the allergy of self esteem and accurate self perception, all inflicted by the smooth yet maiming surface of a mirror.