Crystalbringer

Chapter 8: Memories of a tragic past



«Sorry again for what I did last Sunday at the spa...» I murmur, my voice low and heavy with guilt as my eyes dart to Brianne's face, hoping for some sign of forgiveness—or at least understanding. Tonight, she's wearing a pendant I've never seen before on her. It's one of those vintage gold lockets that open up to reveal tiny photos of someone special. I can't help but wonder who's inside.

«You've already apologized a hundred times this week, Ren» Brianne's voice is gentle but firm, though her expression softens into something distant. «I told you—it's fine. Mistakes happen, especially when you're new. What matters is that you learned from it»

Her green eyes, usually sharp and full of life, glisten under the dim glow of the streetlights and the faint wash of moonlight. Brianne's lips tighten, and her tone takes on a melancholy edge. «When I scold you, it's for your own good. What you did—hurting someone so much bigger than you that easily—that kind of thing doesn't go unnoticed. If someone from Black Jacket had been there to see it... even by chance...»

Her voice falters, and I watch as those shimmering eyes overflow, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Her hands—delicate, trembling—move to clutch the locket at her chest. She presses it tightly against her heart and her fingers curling around it. Her gaze drifts, unfocused, as though she's being pulled into some deep abyss of memories.

«Brianne, are you okay?» I ask softly, leaning towards her and my voice laced with as much care as I could muster. It's a question to which I know the answer-silence, tension in her grip on that pendant, told it all. But seeing her this way, so far from the confident and strong woman I admire, twists a knot in my chest. Brianne is strong, always has been. And if there's any way I can lighten the burden she's carrying, I'll do whatever it takes.

«Ren» she starts, her voice low and trembling, «I have to talk to you about something» Her fingers close more tightly around the pendant, pressing it closer to her heart. «Come on, let's sit down over there» She nods her head, gesturing with a slight lean of her head toward a tiny playground nestled in the quiet shadows of the street. It's a simple place: just a slide, a creaky swing, and an old wooden bench.

We walk to the bench, sitting down side by side and Brianne digs a packet of cigarettes from her bag. Her usual midnight ritual. Normally, I'd take a few steps back; I can't stand the acrid bite of cigarette smoke. But tonight, I stay rooted in place. Whatever she's about to say feels too important to delay.

She lights the cigarette, her hands trembling only slightly as she exhales a thin plume of smoke that curls into the chill night air. I watch her carefully, waiting. Since Clare mentioned that the Black Jackets had done something to hurt Brianne, I'd been dying to know the truth.

Brianne opens the golden pendant delicately. Inside, there is a picture of a boy who-what? My breath catches as I lean closer, before the differences hit me. It is not me. The boy in the picture has blonde hair, not brown, but the resemblance is uncanny—the same eyes, the same features, even the same hairstyle. If it weren't for the hair colour, we'd be indistinguishable.

«You really do look alike, don't you think?» Brianne murmurs, her voice tinged with an odd mix of nostalgia and sorrow. Her lips curve into a faint smile. "In this picture, you and he were the same age."

«Yeah...» I reply, feeling a little unnerved by the similarity. «The resemblance is. striking. Who is he?

My big brother» Her voice softens, her gaze remains stuck on the photo, and, with her index finger, she rubs gently over the picture.

I am uneasy, not knowing what to say. How she's clutching onto that pendant, and in her expression is this tinge of sadness. It is crystal clear; something had happened to him. It tightens in my chest, but saying anything could just be salt in the wound, so I just watch her, waiting for her to continue.

«His name was Chris» she finally says, her voice trembling slightly. «He was the sweetest, most caring brother in the world. I loved him. more than anyone can love»

"You're speaking about him in the past tense, so that means» My voice trails off. There's no need to finish the sentence.

«He was your age when it happened—when a member of the Black Jackets murdered my parents and my brother one night, seven years ago» Her voice catches, but she makes herself continue. «Chris was a Crystalbringer, like us. He had the Ice Crystal. It's a powerful crystal, but it has one fatal flaw: it only allows one attack at a time. A weakness I didn't know back then»

She takes a deep breath, and her voice comes out laced with emotion. «That night, a man pointed a gun at me. He pulled the trigger, and my brother. He had to make a choice. He could counterattack or protect me." Her voice breaks, and a tear slips down her cheek.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. «Your brother must have loved you so much» I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Brianne lets out a bitter, broken laugh, her tears falling more freely now. «He never said it—not until that night. That stubborn idiot had to wait until he was dying to tell me he loved me» She snaps the pendant shut, her fingers clutching it tightly as if to keep her brother's memory from slipping away. The photo inside is wet with her tears.

She wipes her eyes, speaking more firmly now, although her pain does not weaken. «It happened because my brother and the rest of the boys in that student council back then had been careless about their use of powers, not pondering the implications. It must've been so easy for the Black Jackets to track them, even without radar."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Suddenly, everything makes sense—why she reacted so strongly when I lost control at the spa, why she's so cautious... Brianne, you've suffered more than anyone should ever have to, and yet you never stop caring for others. She's stronger than anyone I've ever known. She's truly special.

Moved by a surge of compassion, I gently reach for her hand, and our fingers intertwine. Her warmth grounds me, and all I want in this moment is to hold her close. So I do. My arms wrap around her, and I pull her into an embrace. She trembles slightly against me, but I don't let go. I don't know if someone she's only known for two weeks can truly comfort her, but I need her to feel this—she's not alone. 

But tonight, I'm not as steady as I want to be. My leg bounces restlessly, my hands trembling ever so slightly, a nervous tic I can't seem to control. I thought I'd hidden it well, but as our bodies press together in the embrace, Brianne notices immediately.

«Ren…» she murmurs, her voice soft but laced with concern. «How long has it been since you drank blood?»

I stiffen slightly at the question, a mix of shame and hesitation swirling within me. «Since the night we first met» I admit quietly. Two weeks. Two long weeks.

Her expression shifts instantly, her concern morphing into sharp frustration. «Ren, you idiot!» she exclaims, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. «When you joined the student council, I promised you that I'd let you drink my blood when you ever needed it. Why didn't you tell me?»

I falter, struggling to find the words. The truth is, I'd planned to bring it up tonight, but… the sorrow in her eyes, the heaviness of her heart—I couldn't add my own burden to hers. Not tonight. «I'm sorry...» I whisper, my voice barely audible.

Brianne sighs, shaking her head, but her frustration softens into something more tender. Without another word, she flicks her cigarette butt into the drain beside the bench and begins unbuttoning her shirt. 

It's the same shirt she wore that first night—the night we met. But this time, instead of a black bra, she's wearing red. This time, though, the atmosphere feels entirely different. The weight of those first moments we shared—the uncertainty, the tension—it's all gone now. In its place is something warmer, something deeper. It's strange; we've only known each other for two weeks, yet it feels like a lifetime. And Brianne… she seems so much more at ease. There's no trace of hesitation or embarrassment in her eyes. Instead, her gaze meets mine with a serene confidence and her lips curving into a soft smile. 

My hands finally settle around her hips, shaking a little, while my canines sharpen on instinct at the prospect of feeding, and my green eyes flash with deep red, like tiny embers flickering in the near-total darkness of the park.

That first red drop trickles from her neck, down to the length of her collarbone, to set on the bend of her breast and blend into the lace of her red bra. The moans are soft, and her hands brush up my back, hot but steady. A strangely gentle, fleeting moment, gone within a heartbeat. As always, we finish with the silent, clinical ritual of cotton and disinfectant, her ever-ready bag by her side.

«The sky's beautiful tonight» Brianne murmurs, her voice soft, her gaze fixed upward.

"Yeah...» My voice is quieter than I mean it to be. Before I know it, my hand reaches out to hers, and our fingers interlock again. I notice the sky: crystal clear, with tiny stars sparkling like scattered crystals on an endless blue cloth. A sight seldom seen in a bigger city like ours.

Brianne shifts, leaning back on the bench, her shirt still undone. She stretches her arms toward me, her silent invitation enough to make my heart race. I lean forward until her arms hold me close.

I find myself on top of her, my head placed upon her chest, slipping deep into the softness, like there couldn't be any safety stronger in this world. Her warmth sinks deep within me, running the cooling sting of night from me.

Her fingers trail up and down my back, light as a feather, sending shivers down my spine, but it is not because of the cold outside; it's deeper than that. It is so soothing, so calm. Lying here in her arms, I feel as though I have finally found one little nook of this world where nothing can hurt me.

This feeling is like a flame that doesn't burn but warms. It spreads from my chest to every cell of my body, wrapping me in a cocoon of quiet joy. I don't want to move. I don't want this to end. It is so... so relaxing... yes, relaxing...

The warm light of dawn grazes my face, soft and comforting, but that's not what jolts me awake.

«Look at my little Ren having the time of their life last night!» Clare's voice rings out, sharp and unmistakable. «I've been looking everywhere for you, you know! Neither you nor Brianne were answering your phones! I've never been so worried in my entire life! I spent the whole night wandering through sketchy alleys like a sweet, defenceless maiden at the mercy of muggers and creeps—all because you two were too busy going at it like a couple of rabbits!»

Wait. Sweet, defenceless maiden? Clare? In what dimension is that true?

The truth is, Brianne and I were so wiped out last night we didn't even hear our phones buzzing. She's got a point, though. Poor Clare.

Her dramatic rant stirs Brianne, who groans softly, stretching her arms as she blinks herself awake.

«Clare...» Brianne mumbles, her voice still coated in sleep. «What are you doing here?» she yawns, squinting at Clare.

«What am I doing here? What are YOU doing here, Brianne?» Clare fires back, hands on her hips like she's about to go full mom-mode. «You have no idea how worried I was—especially knowing those Black Jacket punks are running around with those freakin' radars now! And instead of worrying about my poor, frazzled heart, you thought it was a great idea to spend the night with little Ren doing who knows what!»

Brianne's cheeks instantly flush, her eyes darting away like she's trying to hide. «We didn't do anything... gross» she mutters, her voice barely audible. «We just... slept together, that's all»

Clare snorts, crossing her arms. «Don't you dare pull something like this on me again!» She huffs, spinning on her heel. «Come on, let's go. My car's parked nearby»

Brianne stumbles to her feet, still groggy but obediently following Clare's lead. I stay put.

«I'll walk home» I say abruptly.

Clare whirls around, one eyebrow arched. «Huh? Why?»

I glance up at the sky, painted in soft oranges and pinks. The morning air is warm, wrapping around me like a gentle hug. «It's just... the weather's nice. The air's fresh. I feel like taking a walk»

Clare narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed, but doesn't argue. «Fine, but you'd better text the second you get home. Woe betide you if you don't!»

With that, she and Brianne climb into Clare's fiery red car, the engine roaring as they take off down the road. I turn in the opposite direction, the world quiet around me as I start my slow walk home.

This night... Honestly, I don't even think words can do it justice. I slept on Brianne's chest—warm, soft, and so soothing—wrapped in her arms like I belonged there. Not even in my most optimistic dreams could I have imagined something like this happening. It felt incredible.

She fell asleep first—maybe the blood I took from her earlier made her drowsier than usual—but I could have... well, you know. I could have taken advantage of the situation. But I didn't. Not even for a second.

I'll admit, when I first met Brianne, there was definitely some... let's call it "natural attraction." I mean, come on. Any guy would feel that way about someone as stunning and effortlessly sensual as her. But over time, something shifted.

It's not like I don't still find her beautiful—she's breathtaking, honestly—but as I got to know her, I started seeing her. The person behind that beauty. And weirdly enough, her inner beauty? It's even more captivating than the outer.

Last night, in her arms, I didn't just feel warmth or comfort. I felt something I hadn't felt in years: affection. The kind that wraps around you and fills every empty space, the kind you think you'll never find again. It reminded me of something I thought was gone forever—the way I felt in my mom's arms before she passed. It's been four years since I lost her, and for the first time, I felt that safe, loved feeling again.

My thoughts come to a screeching halt as a loud honk jolts me back to reality. I turn around to see a small, beat-up dark-blue hatchback pulling up beside me.

«Ren, what are you doing out here at six in the morning?» a familiar voice comes .

Peering out the car window is a middle-aged man—messy, greying hair, an unkempt beard, and those unmistakable thick yellow-rimmed glasses.

«Just felt like walking and catching the sunrise. I could ask you the same thing, Dad» I reply with a smirk. «The factory you work is on the other side of town"

«A colleague's car broke down, so I gave him a ride home. You know, favours between coworkers» He gestures for me to hop in. «I'm guessing you haven't had breakfast yet, huh? How about we try that new bakery downtown? Everyone's been raving about it»

I can't help but smile. It's rare for us to spend any time together, thanks to his crazy night shifts. A breakfast outing with my dad? That's not something I'll say no to.


Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.