Beautiful Boy

couldn't sleep, you?

amara haven

The family spent the day at a secluded beach, and then went out for dinner around six.

Nic had another meeting to go to at 9:30 PM.

I was happy that he was staying sober and going to meetings, but I had to admit, I missed him when he was gone. Even if it was a simple hour.

I spent the time that he was at the meeting with my sketchbook and my thoughts.

I felt contradicted with myself.

Part of me never wanted to leave Nic's side.

But the other, probably more logical, part of me, wanted to stay in Sausalito with my sisters.

Of course I'd end up back in Los Angeles with him anyways, but I wanted a few extra days with my sisters. That couldn't hurt him, right?

I was coming to the end of my sketch, and the end of the blink-182 cassette when he got home.

I could hear talking downstairs between him and his Dad, and then I heard him coming up the stairs.

He opened the door, and I could tell he wanted to slam it closed, but didn't.

"What's up?" I asked.

"My fucking Dad," he replied, "He made me take a drug test. I was at a fucking meeting for crying out loud."

One thing I always found endearing about him, he'd cry.

Whether he was upset or angry, he'd cry. Not many men cry at all, they view it as weak.

Though it broke my heart when he cried because I wanted the best for him at all costs.

"Fuck," he muttered quietly, tugging on his hair.

I could tell he didn't want to cry but he couldn't fight it either.

I climbed to the edge of the bed on my knees and opened my arms.

Being on the bed made me about the same height as he was, allowing him to tuck his face into my neck.

If I hadn't had more self-control, I think I would've cried myself.

I slid one of my hands into his hair and gently massaged his head, my other hand rested on his shoulder.

I kissed his temple and he pulled back enough to look at me.

His eyes were glossy and the tip of his nose was red, tear stains fell down his cheeks.

I felt my own eyes gloss over.

"Well, why are you crying?" He asked sarcastically.

"Because you're crying," I laughed, moving my hands to his cheeks to wipe his tears away.

He laughed too, but it was a forced laugh, I could tell.

He was hurting.

And for a completely valid reason.

I pulled him back to continue our hug, "If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."

"I told you why I was upset," he countered.

"No, Nic, something else is bothering you," I comprehended.

"Yeah? What makes you say that?" He asked, pulling back again, but fully this time.

"Well, I don't know, I just- I know that you've been through a lot, and that getting sober is hard-"

"I don't want your fucking sympathy, Amara," he seethed.