We’re home.

The car journey always seems longer on the way back from one of Max’s treatments, like some unknown force wants to draw out his discomfort and make him suffer unnecessarily.

Mum looked shocked when both Rhys and I asked if we could come and support Max during his chemo, and, as yet, neither one of us has missed a single treatment. Max didn’t look shocked, though. He smiled like he was waiting for it to happen all along.

He was waiting for us to finally accept him as family.

I think the ride home is worse than sitting through treatment. At least there, we get to take his mind off things by playing silly games like Guess Who? Or Boy, Girl, Fruit, Flower. But so much hinges on getting him home before the side effects of the medicines kick in—traffic, roadworks, and whether Mum allows Galen to drive. We’re always quicker when she does let him because she can’t concentrate on the road long enough, her eyes are always on Max in the front seat. Whereas Gal is focused, and gets us home in what feels like half the time.

Today, Mum drove.

By the time we get home, Max is already struggling with nausea, and he needs Galen’s help to get out of the car and to the front door. Galen’s arm is wrapped around his dad holding him up and offering him support while Max leans into the embrace, face pale, eyes closed tight.

Despite being outside, the air surrounding us is heavy and oppressing. Every one of us a prisoner to the worries in our heads. It’s the same routine as always when Max comes back from one of his chemo treatments. We each try and bear this burden with him and each end up feeling like we’ve failed him.

When Mum finally has the front door open, we all give a sigh of relief. That is, until Max steps into the hallway and the smell of this morning’s breakfast, although faint, hits him straight in the guts and he begins to heave uncontrollably.

Mum and Galen move fast as Max forces apologies through the wracking of his body.

“I'll grab a bucket.” Rhys rushes around us and darts towards the kitchen.

He's not quick enough, though, and the bitter smell of bile engulfs us as the meagre contents of Max’s stomach splashes on the tiled floor entryway.

I hurry with Rhys to grab cleaning supplies, and when I come back, Galen is stood there alone. He snatches the mop out of my hands and spins away from me determined to block me out and do it himself.

He makes me feel useless.

He makes me feel like I shouldn't be here.

That he doesn’t want me here.

Still. Even after everything.

Mum calls down from their bedroom for help, and Rhys and I rush upstairs. He heads straight for their room with the bucket, while I grab a glass from the bathroom and fill it with cold water.

As I reach their doorway, I watch Rhys and Mum helping Max into bed. Once settled, Rhys turns and places the bucket at the side of the bed by Max’s head, and I quietly step into the room and deposit the glass on the bedside table. When I turn around Galen is watching from the doorway, his entire body rigid, his hands fisted at his sides.

Max settles back onto the fluffed-up pillows and releases a weary sigh. When he opens his eyes, he silently sweeps his gaze across everyone in the room, taking note of the anxiety and tension making this large space feel very very small.

“Cheer up everyone,” Max says through his sore and used throat. “Hey, did I tell you about my aunt Diane?”

No one replies to his random and hoarsely spoken question. Not even a shake of our heads, but he’s undeterred. “It was pretty ironic how she died. You see, her star sign was cancer—”

Galen swallows hard, his breath seemingly stuck in his chest, and his eyes blink repeatedly. Before I can reach out to him, he turns around and dashes from the room.

“—and she was eaten by a giant crab.”

Mum calls after Galen, but he doesn't return.

“Too soon?” Max asks weakly, and Mum bends to place a soft kiss on his clammy forehead.

“Don't you worry about him. He’ll be fine. He’s a good boy. You just rest, okay.”

Max leans back against his pillows. “Yeah,” he says, his eyes slowly closing. “I could do with a rest.”

Rhys and I awkwardly leave the room as Mum lifts her hand and gently runs it through Max’s hair.

My heart aches and begs me to find Galen.

“Hey,” Rhys says, stopping me at the top of the stairs. “Go easy on him.” I nod and all but dive down the stairs.

Galen's not in the living room or the kitchen, but I spot him out through the open patio doors.

He’s standing with his back to me, his head bowed, and his chin resting against his chest. His shoulders are visibly shaking with the force of his silent cries.

I don't think, I act, and I’m through the doors and pulling him into my arms before I can take a full breath.

He holds onto me so tight that it hurts. I can feel it all; his pain, his fear, and gives it over to me willingly.

I am Galen’s flower.

Right here, right now, I am the vessel for his anguish.

Against my neck, his voice nothing more than a whisper on the summer breeze, he says, “You promised me. Don't let go.”

A few weeks later, Galen is in the TV room playing angry sounds on his guitar. He’s been in there for hours.

We're all waiting for Max to come home from his appointment with the specialist.

I’ve been sat in the kitchen with Rhys, trying and failing to ignore the music Galen has been playing over and over and over. The jarring, harsh and severe noise repeatedly hits me like a fist to my chest.

When we hear the front door open, we both jump to our feet and all but run out into the hallway.

Max steps inside with Mum, both wearing big smiles that stretch wide across their faces.

“Galen,” Mum yells up the stairs, and the awful noise he’s been torturing us with stops abruptly.

Seconds later, he’s pounding down the stairs.

With all eyes on her, Mum looks up at Max and he gives her a nod of encouragement. She turns back to us and says, “The doctor said surgery can go ahead soon and everything's looking good.”

Max kisses her cheek and adds, “He said the treatment has gone well. So, if he’s optimistic, we are going to be too.”

Galen steps closer and wraps his dad into a tight hug—a cwtch. Home.

Rhys and I join in until we form a circle of love, hope, and optimism. All of us embracing our unconventional family and the positive news.

“I’d die for a cup of tea,” Max says eventually, and we all groan at his inappropriateness and pull away.

“What?” he asks, the wide grin still present on his face. “Still too soon?”

Rhys breaks away first from the group hug and uncharacteristically offers to make it. Neither Galen nor I miss the raised eyebrows on Mum and Max’s faces at the gesture as they follow him into the kitchen. Mum stops in the doorway and looks over her shoulder at us to see if we’re coming.

“I need some fresh air. Wanna come, Fflur?” Galen asks.

I nod, and he turns to Mum and enquires, “Need anything out? We won’t be long.”

Mum smiles at us both but shakes her head. She looks tired despite trying not to—happy, but tired.

Galen tilts his head, indicating for me to follow him out to his car, and fifteen minutes later we are in our field. It’s now barren of dandelions, the grass trimmed short, and random buttercups burst through the green here and there, their golden yellow petals calling to me.

Galen reaches down and plucks one before bringing the flower up under my chin.

“Ranunculus Acris. Meadow Buttercup,” I whisper, and Galen’s eyes find mine and sparkle.

“Do you like butter?” he asks. The innocent, childhood game of holding a buttercup under your chin and asking the question seeming less innocent with the fire contained in his eyes—a fire that speaks of deep kisses and searching hands.

My breath hitches as the petals lightly skim my skin, but I don’t answer.

His eyes flick from mine to the area under my chin.

“The buttercup says you do,” he confirms, seeing the yellow glow of the flower’s petals on my skin.

“That’s not what it says. Ask it a different question.”

His eyes, heavy-lidded, hit mine. The question I yearn him to ask forms on his tongue and I can almost taste it.

But instead of asking it, he blinks slowly and takes a step back, the moment gone.

“Thanks,” he says instead, offering me the buttercup, his fingers delicately gripping the long stem. “For coming with me. Getting out of there helps.” He lets his gaze stray over my shoulder before once more catching my eyes. “Being with you helps.”

I think I say “I’ve got you, Gal,” but I can’t be sure because my heart has leapt up into my throat, and Galen is slowly walking away through the field.

It’s the weekend before Max’s surgery on Monday, when Galen next comes into my room.

“Fflur?”

“Yeah?” I say, my voice muffled by the covers.

He sits at my side, his thigh pressing into mine.

“I can’t sleep. Come for a walk to the brook with me?”

I’m comfy and warm in my bed, but I could never refuse Galen anything, and ten minutes later I’m dressed and escaping into the tree line, my eyes on Galen’s broad shoulders.

It’s chilly tonight, and a cold breeze rustles through the leaves and skitters across my skin.

When we get to the brook, Galen stands and stares at the waters, swollen from recent rains, with his back to me.

“I’m terrified,” he says to the rushing brook in front of him, just loud enough for me to hear.

I take three steps until my front reaches his back and I slip my hands around his waist, my brow resting between his shoulder blades.

“Max has got this. He’ll get through tomorrow no problem. He’s strong Gal.”

I feel him nod, the action more to convince himself than me.

“It’s not just about my dad’s surgery” he admits, quieter now I’m close to him.

“What else has you torn up like this?”

He drags in a rough breath, and his chest expands beneath me.

“I had sex with Laurie for the first time last night.”

My hands begin to slip from around him, and he quickly gathers them to his stomach, unwilling to let me go.

“I needed to be close to someone. I needed that connection to another person. I didn’t want to feel alone. Laurie kissed me, told me she was there for me, and I figured it was the right time.”

The right time.

I go to tug my hands free, but he grips them tightly.

“But it wasn’t. It wasn’t right. I mean, I don’t know what I expected, but I still felt alone afterwards, in fact, even more so.”

“And why are you so upset about sleeping with her?” I manage to say without my voice cracking and betraying me. “So, it didn’t rock your world. It didn’t fix everything for you. But that’s no reason to be worried about your dad.”

My heart aches and my head wants to say something mean, but Galen is hurting, and that trumps everything. So, I lock up my jealousy tight, and I do what I promised I would. I’ll be there for him.

“No. It’s more than that. I thought I’d feel different afterwards. I thought it was the way things were supposed to go. I felt different, but not in a good way. I felt cold. Cold to my bones.” He hesitates before continuing, “The only time I don’t feel cold is…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, and his hands release mine allowing me to step away.

“All the wrong things are changing, Fflur. I don’t know how to stop them.”

He turns to face me, and I see the war of emotions play across his features. “I want things to go back to how they were. I want my dad to be healthy. I don’t want to leave here. I don’t think I even want to pursue the band. Fuck. This is all so messed up. I wish I’d never slept with Laurie. I wish things could be different. I feel weak. I want to be strong. I want to be fearless like you. You are unashamed of who you are. I want to be the same. I want—”

I step forward, place one hand on his chest and the other lifts to cup his face.

Our eyes lock and a million words of comfort flit through my brain and tickle my tongue. But I don’t say any of them. Instead, the words that leave my lips, sure, honest and true are, “I love you, Galen.”

Thunder booms overhead and electricity arcs through the sky as the first drops fall. The approaching storm bearing witness to my confession. “I don’t mean as a friend or an almost brother, I mean I’m in love with you. Totally and utterly.”

Galen’s eyes spark, and his mouth opens to reply but closes just as quickly.

Our clothes soak through, each of us stood immobile in the driving rain, the weight of my profession heavy and thick between us.

Guilt nips at my skin. What makes me think that telling Galen I love him when he is on the edge of breaking apart is a good idea? He’s dealing with all kinds of confusing shit in his life, and I drop that bombshell on him.

Maybe Emma was right. Maybe I’m not just a freak but a selfish one.

My love for Galen has grown like a delicate bud for many years, and I’ve kept it hidden, kept it safe. It wasn’t meant to be shared when his life is so upside down and his worries are firmly with his father.

Despite my conflicting emotions, a seed of hope plants firmly in my gut. I’ve told him the truth. He deserved it. He’s owed my honesty.

I love you, Galen.

I’ve loved you since forever.

I want you to kiss me so bad.

I want to wash away every single one of Laurie’s touches.

I blink, and a single tear joins the rain on my face. Worry replacing my hope at his silence.

“Fflur,’ he says eventually, his voice betraying the defeat he holds inside him.

I tug my hands away.

I was stupid to tell him that. Stupid and selfish.

I want to leave this place. I want to crawl back into my bed and forget I just offered him every part of me.

“Fflur, please don’t,” he begs. “It’s not as simple as saying what we feel inside. You know that.”

I didn’t expect those words.

I expected him to say he thought of me as his sister or a friend.

Silence stretches taut between us once more, and I want to push him for more, but my weak and fragile heart holds back, less brave than it was during my declaration moments ago.

“I need a friend right now,” he finally admits. “And you’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

I nod in silence. The guilt I feel doubling and taking root under my skin. That seed of hope I held withers and dies. The delicate bloom of my professed love closing and turning away from Galen’s sun.

With one last look into his lawn green eyes, I turn and walk away. Leaving him standing in the rain, his feet sinking in the mud.

He needs a friend.

I need a flower.

I scan the grassy floor at my feet and see nothing. My legs carrying me faster towards the house.

Max is having surgery tomorrow. Galen needs me as a friend.

I can do that.

I can be that for him, and I’ll bury everything else where I should have kept it hidden.

I’ll tell my secrets, sins and loves to my flowers.