Bad Things

|Chapter Seven|

I haven't seen Noah in over a month. He hasn't been to play at the venue, nor has he been in his apartment. I know he hasn't been at either of those places because I haven't had a single coherent thought that didn't involve the kiss we shared.

I haven't seen him in person, but he's been there in my dreams. All night I dream about what it would have felt like if I had kept kissing him. I create these elaborate scenarios in my subconscious about how his hands would feel if they had roamed more, what he would have felt like inside of me.

Jackson hasn't stopped showing up at my door, at the farmer's market, outside of my work. He's everywhere. I know his patience is running out.

I'm unsurprised to see him leaning against my door when I get home from work tonight. He looks so damn good, but I can't forget the unveiled rage in his eye the day he choked me. The day he almost killed me.

"Can I come in?" it's the first time he's asked. Mostly he's just been telling me he's sorry, that he will do better.

"I'm really tired from work," I tell him, it's 2am and I just want to pass out.

"It's my mom," Jackson's voice cracks and I feel my walls come down a fraction, "she's in the hospital."

"Oh, Jackson, I'm so sorry," I tell him, sincerely. Jackson loses his composure and pulls me into a tight hug, I can feel his body shaking with his sobs. Without letting him go, I unlock my door and let us both inside.

He separates himself to go sit on the couch and I grab water for both of us.

"What happened?" I ask, joining him on the couch.

"She had a stroke," he tells me, his eyes are red and puffy from his tears.

"What did the doctor say?" I ask, "Is she going to be okay?"

Jackson pauses, he takes a drink of water before he starts crying again. I've never seen him upset like this before. He buries his face in my shoulder and I wrap my arms around him. My conflicted feelings for him aren't going to stop me from comforting him. His mom had a stroke, I don't even know if she will make it.

He doesn't say anything else, and eventually he falls asleep with his face pressed against my neck. I don't want to wake him, so I try to get as comfortable as I can and let him sleep. It's light outside when he finally stirs.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep on you," Jackson says, sheepishly. His wild hair is pressed down on one side, and sticking straight up on the other.

"It's okay, you were really upset, how are you feeling this morning?" I ask him, stretching out the kink in my back.

"I still can't believe this happened," he says, dropping his head into his hands.

I rub his back, "do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

"No, I need to get to work, the hospital told me I couldn't do anything anyway," he says. He's going to work when his mom is in the hospital? I guess we all grieve in different ways, but there's no way I would have left my mom to rot in a hospital alone.

"Should you be going to work? You should take some time and be with her," I say, gently. I lost my mom when I was young, I know how important that extra time means.

"No, I need to go to work," he says, I can see the anger in his eyes. "Can I take a shower here?"

"Yeah, go ahead," I say gesturing to the bathroom.

"Come with me?" he says, and his eyes are so sad. It's been over a month since anyone has touched me. I am weak, but I nod and follow him into the bathroom.