Five Weeks to Forever [BxB] (WILL NEVER BE FINISHED)

Chapter 6.

There's not a single problem in this world that a double-scoop of Cotton Candy Explosion ice cream on a waffle cone from Brusters couldn't fix.

No, seriously. It's scientifically proven. Ask any psychiatrist or doctor in your area and they'll tell you just that.

Just don't ask Eloise. He doesn't agree.

But that's not because the aforementioned claim is false, it's just because his taste buds are fucking shit.

I tried to ignore the way Eloise kept casting me concerned looks as I loudly slurped my ice cream while he drove back to his house. There were still hot tears leaking down my face, dripping onto my lap, but I ignored them in favor of absolutely destroying the sweet treat Eloise had so graciously stopped to get me.

He had offered it in a vain attempt to cheer me up after I couldn't stop balling hysterically like a widow who had just been informed her husband died out at sea. I had followed him out of the car and up to the ordering window out of fear he would mess my beloved ice cream order up.

Needless to say, we had been quite a sight to see.

"O-o-o-one small waffle cone." I had sniffled miserably, gasping for air. "W-with cotton c-candy explosion p-please."

"Uhm.." The lady inside had stared, eyes glancing back and forth between Eloise and I. "Would you like anything else?"

"Napkins, as many as you got." Eloise sighed, his hand resting on my shoulder sympathetically. "He's already used up all the tissues in my car."

Which, yea, was true. Even with the giant wad of napkins the poor employee had graciously gifted us, tears and snot was still managing to slide down my face at a steady pace.

"Hey, Elliot," Eloise broke the several minute long pause that had been transpiring while I inhaled my ice cream. "I don't mean to be 'that guy', but I think I just saw a couple boogers fall into your mouth. You need to wipe your face?"

I hiccuped, blindly reaching my hand out for Eloise to place a few napkins in, keeping my eyes on the delicious prize in front of me. I wiped my face haphazardly, blowing my nose loudly in the quiet of the car.

By the time we made it to Eloise's house, I had finished my cone, though not very cleanly. Sticky, dried residue was left all over my hands, face, and clothes, making me look like an overly excited toddler after the cake at their birthday party. Eloise directed me towards his bathroom sink where I quickly rinsed my hands off, pulling on the sweatshirt and pajama pants he tossed at me to replace my day clothes. He was a couple feet taller than me, so they were a bit big, but comfortable enough.

"Your soap smells like cut grass." I mumbled softly, toweling my hands dry.

"That's cuz it's Irish Spring, Elli." He responded, gently patting the side of his bed where he already sat. I waddled over, plopping down where he directed, falling over onto my back and rolling onto my side.

"Where are your parents at?" I asked, curious.

"Out for dinner. I wasn't supposed to leave the house, so.. Stay quiet about this." He grinned at me.

"You? Sneaking out?" I gasped dramatically, tucking my arm underneath my head as I shut my eyes. "How scandalous. What would God say?"

"God knows I had a good reason." Eloise assured me, laying down on the bed beside me. He smiled at me for a moment longer, before pausing and frowning.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

I swallowed thickly. My throat was still hoarse and dry from my sob-fest in the car, making my words feel like they were getting caught, scraping against the delicate flesh inside.

"Do I have to?"

"No," He answered slowly, eyes flickering up to the ceiling then back to me. "But it might make you feel better."

Yet another thing I loved about Eloise. Only someone like him would stop everything he was doing at the drop of a hat and haul ass to my house to pick me up and let me stay the night, and then not even demand answers to what had happened to cause my little mental breakdown in the first place.

Of course, it's not like I left much up to the imagination. Eloise knew enough about my dad from stories I had told him over the years to put together the pieces of what had happened, I'm sure. What had gone down with my mother, though..