Society | A Evan Lennon Story

21 - Hope After All

I wake up because the sun is in my eyes. It takes a few minutes to wake up fully, but even then, I don't move. I feel a pressure against my stomach, so I look down and I see Barrett's arm wrapped loosely around me. I don't remember falling asleep, all I remember is crying into Barrett's chest. I look up at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It's nearing 8am. I huff tiredly and look over my shoulder, at Barrett. "Hey.." I say as I rub his arm that's around me with my free hand in an attempt to wake him up. My voice sounds somewhat raspy and quiet. I don't necessarily want to leave this spot, abandon this moment, this feeling, but if I don't wake him up, he'd be late for school. He groans softly and his eyes shut tightly as his head sinks into the pillow but it lifts itself back up and his eyes open and meet mine. "It's 7:40." I say. He groans and sinks back into the pillow, his arm leaving my body so he could wipe the tiredness from his eyes. I smile softly. "I'll lend you a change of clothes." I sit up and take a second to wipe my eyes to hopefully, not feel as tired as I do, then I stand. I walk over to my dresser and take out a random t-shirt and pair of trousers, and knowing what Barrett would be most comfortable in, a jumper as well. I turn. He's now sitting up, his hair messy, and his back is slouched as he rubs his eyes half-heartedly. I smile and walk over to him. I offer the clothes to him, all folded neatly upon each other. He takes them once he notices me standing there.

"Thank you." He says and he stands to remove his jumper. I sit on the end of the bed and I find myself staring at him. He drops his jumper on the bed, then he takes off his shirt. I glance at his wrists and furrow my eyebrows. There's plasters on his arms, typically, his scars aren't covered, well not by anything other than his jumper. I absentmindedly reach out to grab his hand after he pulls on the t-shirt. He flinches at my touch and I feel his eyes on me. I just stare at the plasters. "Oh." He says. I look up at him. He takes his hand from mine and lets out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I, uhh, started putting them on again. Someone posted a picture of me, outside, eating lunch with you guys and there was a lot of nasty comments, so I thought maybe I'd wear these, at least until winter or until things die down." He spoke nervously and his eyes are looking everywhere but at me.

I look down. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"It's okay. You have a lot going on, I didn't want to bother you with this."

I look up. He pulls on my jumper, which seems to fit him. I know usually he likes them to be larger, but mine were all fitted. I don't particularly like clothes that are large. "It wouldn't have bothered me." I finally say. He suddenly stops what he's doing and looks at me. I shrug. "It would've been nice worrying about something other than my fucked up shit." I don't realize that this was probably not okay to say until after I say it. But before I can take it back, Barrett speaks up with a laugh.

"Yeah, I suppose that's true. But I'm fine, really." He says. "I'm more concerned about you."

"I'm okay." I say, which wasn't entirely a lie. I'm tired but not because of anything like before, I don't feel more depressed than I did yesterday. I feel better.

"Yeah?"

I nod. "Yeah. I think so."

He smiles. "Good." I smile and look down. I hear the rustling sound of him removing his trousers to put on mine but I don't look up. I'm now too deep into my head to really care all that much. After I told him and myself that I wasn't okay, that something was seriously wrong with me, a huge weight lifted from my shoulders and I felt relieved, and for just a moment, happy. I still feel depressed and angry and anxious but it's less, I don't find it as difficult to get out of bed in the morning. I don't find it nearly as exhausting to smile, regardless the little times that I did smile this past week, it's been fake, but this morning, in this moment, they're not. "Evan." Barrett's voice breaks me from my trance and I look up. "Are you going to be okay? Alone?" He asks.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"..Okay." He steps back. "Just- call me if you need anything." I nod. He smiles. "I'll come by after school, if you want?" He says this as more of a question than a statement. I hear how hesitant he was. "It's okay if you don't." He then says rather in a panic than anything else.

"I wouldn't mind." I say. My voice is calm, soft. And my hands haven't moved from where they sat, intertwined, in my lap. I'm staring up at him with a soft smile.

He smiles and nods. "Okay." He adjusts the bottom of the jumper and takes his old clothes from the bed and he takes a moment before turning and going over to the window. I watch as he opens it and climbs through. He turns and smiles at me one last time as he shuts the window, then he turns and walks away. I sigh softly. I feel sad that he's gone, lonelier but I don't pay much mind to it and I look away from the window. I'm just relieved I had him here, that he came when he did because who knows what I might've done to myself hadn't he came.