The Spring of Love & Heartbreak

Panic Attack Hangover

He smiles at me, standing up and ending whatever conversation he was having with Steve. Steve looks back and see's that I'm just staring at them, just like that night after the pool. After I woke up and it was him, Nancy and Eddie just watching me- to see if I was still normal.

Eddie swaggers into the room, swiping the mug off the nightstand and handing it to me. "Drink. It'll help." He grins, handing the cup to me. I take a sip but don't drop his eye contact. It's one thing I can't not stare out. I always thought I had a thing for blue eyes, but I also seem to from brown eyes. They're such deep dark brown, with small specs of gold in them that only shine when the light hits them just right. Staring into his eyes I see all the light and life shinning behind them. And I want that back in my eyes, but not at the cost of other people. "So what's the verdict? Is she mad?" He puts his hands in the back pockets of his jean, swaying back and forth on the ball of his feet.

"No she isn't mad. I'd say more upset then anything." I sigh, holding the mug to my chest. "She said you could stay the night if you wanted too. Just that we will have to stay in the living room."

He looks around my room, at my bed and his guitar sitting on the reading nook, debating in his own mind. "I'll stay if you'll have me."

I smile, "I'll always have you. Again thank you for earlier." I motion to the bed and to crack in the wall by my desk.

He puts his open palmed hand up in the air, "Stop. You never need to apologize. If you need help, it's okay to ask for it." He takes the mug from my hand, "Get what you need and I'll see you downstairs? Grab a blanket and pillow for me. I'm going to go talk to your mom." He takes the mug with him, I'm assuming to warm it back up. I wonder what he could want to talk to my mom about? Maybe apologize about what happened in the last few weeks? Who knows. Maybe he just wants to talk to my mom and make her get use to him being around?

Thinking to myself as I mindlessly hum, picking up two blankets and a few pillows before I walk downstairs. Closing my bedroom door behind me and running into Steve in the hallway, watching him pick up his baseball trophies I knocked off the shelf during my melt down. Some are broken and in pieces scattered across the floor. "I'm sorry." I drop the blankets and pillows stuffed in my arms, and bend down to help pick up the mess I've caused. There's a gold bat here and a baseball mitt there. The pedestal one of them sits on is broken down the middle.

"It's okay. These don't mean anything to me anymore anyways." Steve mumbles, picking up the whole ones and putting them back on the shelf. "I was thinking about throwing half of these away and putting other things up here."

"Like what? Don't these remind you of your childhood, all those trips you use to take for baseball?" I remind him- of all the times he was gone for a weekend. In some neighboring state with his team, and with dad too. It was those weekends when things were calm. I remember one weekend when mom took me out dress shopping- even when I didn't like wearing dresses. It was her trying to bond with me and I was being nothing but difficult to her. "I was thinking of putting up some more recent things. Take more pictures, and put things up here. Mom said we get to control what this shelf looks like."

"Yeah as long as it's appropriate since when guest come over that's in their line of view." Mom yells up to us, Eddie following behind her as they make their way into the living room. Steve and I both giggle to each other. "I'll make sure not show off my dildos." I whisper with a slight chuckle and a roll of my eyes. "Brook!" Steve falls back on his butt, laughing. Actually laughing. "That's fucking gross."

"I was kidding. It was a joke!" I sneer, and help finish cleaning up the broken pieces. "But hey, I was thinking we put up a picture of you and Billy up here. You know? Just for the memories?" Steve offers, quietly. "If you want?"