𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 || 𝙰𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗 𝙱𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚛

19 - Not Even For A Second

I am so sorry for this one, please forgive me 

TW: drugs, mental disorders, grief, vomit, major medical events

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𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗

𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚡 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚍

𝙿𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜

𝘚𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘚𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯: 𝘐𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 – 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘦

ELSIE

– 4 years ago (Junior year) –

It had been about 2 months since the death of Austin's father and to say he was taking it badly was an understatement. He was on the verge of flunking out of school, the only reason he was even coasting was because I took over all his course work.

He spent most of the time in his room – it was filthy. Cluttered with trash, clothes, rotting food. It was easy to know that the food would decay because he wouldn't eat. He wouldn't eat at all. In the short time, he had dropped at least 20 pounds. He was never that bulky, fairly lanky to begin with, but now his ribs were popping out and his arms shrunk by the day.

He'd sleep all day, then be up most of the night. Or sometimes he'd sleep the entire 24 hours. The sockets around his eyes remained purple, his cheeks sullen. I barely recognized him.

Most of the time he wouldn't shower for weeks on end and then there were some weeks where he wouldn't even speak a word. At one point I even thought I was forgetting the sound of his voice and so started rewatching old videos of us just to hear it. Or his laugh or see his smile. God, I missed them, I missed them so fucking much. It was selfish how much I missed them.

It had been so long since I'd seen even a glimpse of the Austin I knew. He had become a ghost. Haunting our apartment with small traces of who he used to be all over, but he was no where to be found.

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I was in his tiny room just trying to clean up a bit, do some laundry for him. I thought maybe a clean space might lift his spirits, or enough just to eat something, anything.

He was cocooned in a thick navy duvet, just tufts of overgrown blonde hair peaking from a small opening. I figured he was asleep since he didn't react when I came in. But when I went to grab an stale chip bag from between him and the wall, his hand weakly grabbed my wrist. I just about jumped off the ground from shock.

"Oh, I'm sorry Aus, I didn't mean to wake you I was just trying to clean-" He shushed me, then silently pointed behind himself. "Yeah I know, I just threw that stuff away-" I whispered. He gestured again. "Aust I don't know what you're trying to say."

In a slight struggle to unravel himself from the bedding without adjusting, his frail arm held open the cover. I stayed silent eyeing the scene in front of me and what it meant, if I was understanding correctly. With the raspiest, weakest, voice he croaked out, "Please."

Without another word I slipped into the bed behind him. We had never done anything like this before and it felt so odd. Such an intimate act, so taboo, as if it was something we shouldn't be doing. But some part of me didn't feel that way and my arm curled around him like it was instinct, like I knew exactly where my arm would fit. He nuzzled back into me.