Aiden [Book Two]

8

For someone so soft and timid, afraid to speak out of turn and frightened of the world, Aiden had quite the fiery temper.

After his meltdown in school, the redhead felt completely drained. He slept in Reid's lap for the rest of the afternoon until home time. Nathan came to collect his boyfriend and was so shocked by his state that he asked Evan to call his aunt for help.

There was no way he'd be able to carry the boy home, and if Aiden was as sensitive as usual after an attack, the others wouldn't be able to support him, either.

Nathan guided his love to the car and sat by his side, holding the fragile, bruised hand as he watched the exhausted boy, who hadn't spoken since waking up. It was like he wasn't in his own body anymore; vacant and distant.

The younger boy remained silent as he trudged into the house, dropping his backpack by the door and heading for the stairs. He didn't stop until he made it to the bedroom, all but dropping onto the mattress with a defeated sigh.

Aiden said nothing when Nathan entered. He just watched with heavy eyes as the brunette knelt on the floor, brushing the orange hair strands back with one hand. He whispered tender words to his boyfriend, using the smokey, low tone to lull him back to sleep.

They were safe in the bedroom; away from the terrifying memories.

The elder stayed by his side for a while, wiping away the thin layer of makeup to reveal the flushed skin underneath, before leaving to let him rest.

Nathan sat around the table with the redhead's parents; the trio picking at their dinner as they wondered what had pushed Aiden over the edge. He struggled early that morning after a restless night, wobbled during lunch, and finally fell down near the end of the day, but nobody knew why.

Nobody knew about the calls, messages, and pictures. They thought it was another overwhelming panic attack brought on by traumatic flashbacks and memories.

Nobody suspected the teen was living through his worst nightmares all over again. So when Grace headed upstairs carrying a plate of dinner for her son, she didn't expect the frosty reception and painfully familiar anger.

The woman knocked on the door before entering, her eyes settling on the boy sat on his bed, head against the wall, staring at the TV as it silently flickered.

Her little boy looked broken; just like the day he was attacked.

"Hey, baby. I brought you something to eat; Nathan said you haven't eaten much today."

Aiden glanced at his mother as she placed the plate on the bedside table while sitting on the edge of the bed. He radiated stoic indifference, and didn't care about eating or taking care of himself. It was all pointless anyway.

"Not hungry," he mumbled, focussing on the show he and Nathan started watching together a few days ago.

The elder would be mad about missing an episode, and would make Aiden skip back. The vulnerable boy didn't care about watching it again, he was hardly paying attention as it was.

Grace held in the urge to sigh as her dishevelled child continued to stare at the TV, ignoring her presence. Whatever was going on in his head, it left an empty shell where her son used to be.

"Can we talk about what happened today? You haven't been this bad in months, not since we moved here."

Other than the one serious panic attack at the coffee shop, Grace had witnessed nothing too dramatic. She always knew when her little boy struggled with his emotions, because he withdrew from the world, but they weren't like this. This was more poignant and painful.