Boys of West Denton ✓

chapter sixteen

Sebastian

"What the hell did I miss?" I ask Saanvi. She's in the upstairs hallway, and Harris is slumped against her, an absolute mess of a man. And that's not hyperbole. There's blood splattered all over the front of his shirt, and small bruises are forming beneath his eyes, and the wet sheen on his chin just might be vomit.

"I'll tell you in the car," she says. Her eyes are as serious as they are hollow. She looks the angriest I've ever seen her—is it just me, or are her hands shaking?

"Here," I tell her, "I'll carry him."

"You can carry me?" he asks. He looks absolutely defeated. "Are you ... are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course." Hopefully.

"But, but, your chicken arms."

"My what?"

"We've gotta fuckin' go," Saanvi says. "If you and your chicken arms can lift him, then do it."

As I attempt to scoop Harrison up bridal style, I realize that I don't actually know how to lift someone. Also, Harris may be short, but he's stocky and strong, mostly lean muscle. I squat down and try to scoop him up like that, but he's not the most cooperative.

"It's okay," he mutters, his eyes closed. His head lolls to the side. "Your chicken arms."

"Oh my god, where is this chicken arms shit coming from?"

Someone approaches behind us on the stairs. I turn and see—much to my surprise and chagrin—Evan standing there, his hair disheveled, his brow furrowed.

"Is he okay?" he asks.

Saanvi takes a step forward. "You punched him in the fucking face and left him alone with Liam mother-fucking Grande. What do you think?"

Evan pales. "Wait, Liam? Did he—"

"It's none of your fucking business what he did or didn't do," Saanvi says, stepping in front of the pair of us. Evan tries to meet my gaze. I look away.

"Move." Saanvi crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Or so help me, I will kick your bony ass down those steps."

"Sebastian," Evan says, his voice strained. His gaze is pleading. "Is Harris okay?"

"I–I don't know," I mutter.

"I'm fine," Harris whispers, pressing his face into my chest. But he's so obviously not. I don't know what to do.

Evan takes a step forward. I hold Harris just a little tighter. "Let me carry him down the stairs," he offers. "It's the least I can do."

Saanvi looks back to the pair of us, frowning. I can tell she's considering it. I am, too.

"Fine," I say. Can't hurt. Well, shouldn't hurt. Kind of does though. "Thank you."

He walks forward and squats down, just like I'd thought to do but couldn't manage. He makes scooping Harris up in his arms look easy, despite how heavy he is. "I'm so sorry about hitting you," Evan says, adjusting his grip before walking down the stairs.

Saanvi's eyes stay narrowed, even when we're out at the truck. Evan places Harris in the backseat, buckling him up and asking him to stay awake before looking back to me. "Hey Seb, you might wanna grab some plastic bags or something before you go."

It takes a moment to register. "Right, right." I run back inside the house, all the way to the kitchen. There's a variety of alcohol littering the island counter; people are packed into the open floor plan, drunkenly dancing under green LED lights. It's a dizzying cacophony of pure noise and inebriated nonsense.