There was only one bathroom in the townhouse, and it currently smelled of bleach. The most annoying part about living with girls was their obsession with looking nice. They never looked nice. Sometimes, one of the twins would spend hours in the bathroom getting ready, and still look the same when she came out. River always dyed his hair after an episode. He’d been doing this for ages, and didn’t have a reason why.

The door was slightly ajar. Since the twins had moved in, River had learned to tell them apart by looking for a birthmark. The problem with this was that Eve wore too much makeup, claiming the birthmark brought attention to her and made her anxious. She stood in the bathroom doorway, watching River prepare his hair dye in a plastic bowl. She was quieter than Seraphim, but needed more reassurance. She was on the school yearbook committee, which she claimed to enjoy despite being teased for it. Though the twins still shared a room, they spent little time together, and seemed to constantly argue. With all the commotion, it felt sometimes like River was living back at home.

Wren wanted them to move in together. River wanted this as well, but it was intimidating to think about. Wren always told him she loved the time they spent together, and she could never grow tired of him - but the occasional weekend visit was much different than living together, and River was good at hurting everyone he cared about. For a while, his relationship with Wren was strained. He wanted to get better. He’d promised Wren to try.

“Can you dye my hair, too?”

River didn’t know how old Eve was. She was in seventh grade, and complained frequently about hating school. River would never know the experience of public school, and he still wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or regretful about it. Life was arbitrary. The twins had been toddlers when River left the house, very likely left with no memory of him at all. Nearly a decade passed, and they were almost teenagers now, and it was strange to think about how quickly time had passed. He didn’t dislike spending time with Eve. She was almost as self-deprecating as he was, but far less subtle about it.

“Why?”

Some days, there was still a temptation to crack open a bottle. It was hard to battle vices - no matter how hard you tried, there was always a possibility they’d suck you back in. River hadn’t had a drink in three months. This felt like a very big achievement. He had no reason to live for himself - so he lived for Wren, and he tried to make her happy.

Eve stepped inside, sitting on the edge of the toilet seat, watching River cover his hair with bleach. “I don’t want to look like Seraphim anymore. Kids at school keep saying she’s the pretty twin, and I’m the ugly one.” River hated kids. Despite this, he loved Thaïs, and he loved Eve. River knew how to make people feel special. If he loved you, there’d be no doubting it.

Something his therapist had said recently was that he couldn’t make everyone like him. Though this used to cause him anxiety, he’d come to terms with the knowledge that sometimes, a person just disliked another for no reason. Sometimes, a person changed their mind about you after years and years of liking you - and this was hard to understand, but it was part of life.

“They’re assholes.”

That afternoon, Wren was coming to pick him up. She said it was important to make time for one another, and to find ways to make one another feel loved. River wanted to marry her. He couldn’t imagine anyone would ever want to marry him. Many people had told him he was worthy of love. He never seemed to believe this.

Sometimes, Eve sat with him when he painted. She asked many questions about his art, and sometimes painted with him. She wasn’t as knowledgeable, but none of River’s siblings had taken interest in his art before.

“Please, River?”

She was probably twelve years old, but she looked little. River barely remembered being twelve. He was born, and then he was sixteen and running away, and then he was twenty six and trying to fix himself. “It’s green.”

“That’s my favourite colour.”

“Your hair’s dark. I’ll have to bleach it.”

Eve didn’t speak about her feelings. She kept to herself, responding when spoken to, but never initiating conversation. River had been this way as a child, too. “That’s okay.” Eve shut the bathroom door, looking hopeful. He could have said no to her, but what was the harm in self-expression?

He was tired. When Wren came to pick him up after she finished work, he’d be ready for bed. During the weekends they spent together, Wren wasn’t afraid to change in front of him. River, who had discussed briefly with his therapist his gynophobia, hadn’t made much progress in this regard. In the past, he’d been too disgusted to take a shower without keeping his eyes closed. It wasn’t this bad anymore. Wren had never seen him naked. She was fine with this. She never wore makeup, and always had her hair down in a braid. Wren was beautiful and kind. She’d changed him in ways he could have never imagined changing. She made him want to be better.

Salem spoiled the girls, claiming they deserved to feel like normal teens. Eve had a smartphone and a laptop, and sat on the side of the tub. River had never dyed someone else’s hair. Eve was soft-spoken and non-confrontational, letting him bleach her hair. It made the bathroom smell. Aside from the two of them, no one else was home.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Are you moving out soon?”

The dye made his head itch. It was always worth it, afterward. “I don’t know.” It was hard to think about the future. River couldn’t predict what life had in store, and speaking of the future with certainty was impossible. “Hopefully. My girlfriend’s been looking for a place.” He’d never lived with a girlfriend before. Someday, he dreamed of making Wren his wife.

Eve was sensitive. Eve greatly feared being criticized. “I’ll miss you when you move out,” she said, mostly to herself, “Nobody in this house understands me except for you.”

For the past couple months, River had been attending therapy twice a month. It was taxing and hard to force himself to remain dedicated, but Wren deserved the best possible version of him, and River deserved to be happy.

I don’t want you to do it for me. I want you to do it for you. I want you to get better for you, because you’re important to me.

“I’ll come back once in a while to hang out with you.”

It was odd. River had never been close with his siblings. It was unusual and relieving to know he wasn’t the unstable, volatile boy he’d been in the past. Sometimes he still lost control of himself - but this was rarer now, and far less destructive. He often wondered why people hung out with him. You deserve to feel loved, his therapist had said during their last meeting, even if you don’t feel like you do.

For a while, the two sat without speaking, listening to the music that played quietly from River’s phone speaker. Eve scratched her head when she was deep in thought, and she was often distracted in conversation. River had memories of her as a toddler: following him around out of boredom, demanding to be involved. She hadn’t changed much. Both sat on the bathroom floor as the time counted down, letting their colour set.

Eve read often, things like psychology texts and biographies, the kinds of things nerdy preteens read. It felt unsurprising that she had few friends; Eve isolated herself, insisting other people made her miserable. River understood this. People were selfish and cruel. Sometimes, River was selfish and cruel too. He’d learned recently that others were not responsible for his personal triggers, and that - unless it was purposeful - it was necessary for him to apologize for the way he treated people who triggered him. This was an easy concept to understand, but very hard to put into practice. Like anyone, he was embarrassed and ashamed after mistreating others. All of his life, it’d been easier to ignore than to acknowledge.

Time always passed too quickly. Sometimes it felt as though the last decade had passed without River living it at all.

“Seraphim has a boyfriend.”

Eve always sounded like she was speaking to herself. She was short and seemed to blend into the background everywhere she went. “His name is Lucas. I told her she’s too young to date, but she didn’t listen.”

Kids didn’t listen. Even people who knew nothing about kids knew that. Salem didn’t care much what the girls did, or who they spent time with. He had rules and expectations, but wasn’t strict or impatient. Eve still seemed to fear disobedience; she did what she was told, and asked for permission to do things like leave the house and wear new outfits.

“What about you?” She didn’t really feel like a sister. She felt more like a younger neighbour or sibling of a friend. “You’re not interested in boys yet?” River couldn’t remember his first crush. He hadn’t been exposed to much romance growing up, and certainly was never given opportunities to explore. It was better to learn valuable life lessons young than to grow up knowing nothing.

Someone was arriving home; the door opened noisily. Eve frowned, nibbling her bottom lip, refusing to look at River. “I’m interested in girls,” she said finally, sadly. “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t make it stop. Maybe I’ll grow out of it. I don’t want to be sinful.”

Children were impressionable. River remembered being young, believing everything he was told without a second thought. But people matured with age, and experiences came with lessons, and it was his responsibility as an older brother to give Eve the love and compassion he’d never gotten. “It’s not wrong.” It was refreshing to feel calm. It happened more often these days, and stayed longer than it had before. Eve was small and confused. He’d been that child at one point, too. “People will tell you it’s wrong, but it’s not. You can love whoever you want, as long as they treat you well and make you happy.”

It was nearly time to wash his hair. He always felt like a new man after dyeing it.

Eve blinked. “But Dad always said-”

“Dad was a piece of shit.”

I feel bad for anyone who ends up with me in the future. I don’t deserve to be happy. I ruin everything.

He hadn’t meant to get angry. It took time to heal from trauma, and sometimes it exploded out of you at random moments. When River got triggered, he struggled to calm himself down. “Stop lying to yourself; they were full of shit, all of them. Dad didn’t care about us. You should know that by now.” He stood, abrupt, disinterested in speaking any further. Turning on the taps above the sink, he let the lukewarm water run over his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting next to Wren at a bus stop. “I'm sorry for saying I hated you, and calling you names. I didn’t mean it. I’ll be better, I promise.

It was hard to improve. You could promise a hundred times to be better, but it never meant anything until you actually followed through. One of the biggest challenges was learning to be okay with not being liked by everyone. Nearly a year into his relationship with Wren, Raven still disliked him. This was hard to get past, but it was impossible to be liked by everyone. Wren loved him, somehow, and that was all that mattered.

“You don’t even like everyone,” said Wren, on a day he was feeling particularly depressed, “Why do you expect everyone to like you?

When River was a teenager, his mother often told him he would never be loved. You’re a liability, she’d say, no one ever knows what will set you off. Loving you is usually more trouble than it’s worth. For many years, this lived in his head as absolute truth. River deserved to be loved: even if he made it difficult sometimes. But even months into healing, he sometimes still struggled to believe this.