The Religious & The Damaged

41

Elias

  I glance back into the room as I leave, and Joseph's sound asleep on the bed.

  I adjust my hoodie around my neck as I shut the door, and I head into the main room of my apartment.

  The sound of a long groan in the living room brings me to a halt as I stand in the doorway of the kitchenette, and I turn.

  Nick looks over at me from where he slumps on the couch, then he sits up—ruffling his hair carelessly.

  "Thanks for letting me crash. Mom would've murdered me if I came home shitfaced."

  I smile. "Don't mention it."

  He blinks at me, a sort of blank expression on his face, but he still holds a tired look.

  He says, "You let him stay over too."

  "His dad would've killed him too, except literally." I reply, and he scoots down the couch so I can sit next to him.

  "Then why get wasted? I was surprised to see him there."

  "Kelsey dragged him."

  "Kelsey? I thought she was sick."

  I shrug. "She probably needed a break too, and he said that things were getting bad these past couple months."

  His brows raise. "So you talked to him, then?" He asks.

  I break eye contact briefly. "Sort of."

  "Sort of? The fuck does that mean?"

  My gaze falls, and I feel as heat rises to my cheeks at the events that took place last night; and my heart races.

  "Holy shit." I look at him. "You two totally had sex last night, didn't you?"

  I blush more, and I look away briefly as I say, "It was just.. hand stuff. He was really drunk last night."

  "So, are you guys back together now or what?"

  I look down.

  I haven't thought about that.

  I mean, I hope we are, but it's something we should talk about together.

  I smile nervously at Nick and shrug my shoulders. "He's just been sleeping. We haven't had a chance to talk about it."

  He smiles at me, but it seems sympathetic—and I'm not sure why.

  "Well, good luck, man. I'm gonna split and catch some more z's before school." He stands. "I'm not coming til lunch. Fuck that."

  I laugh shortly. "See you later, Nick."

  He waves half-heartedly at me before he heads out the door, and my gaze turns to my bedroom door—just in my sight from where I sit.

  The sheer realization that he might not want to get back together; that last night was just a drunken mistake to him—it settles in my mind, and I feel a grip on my heart that only he can relieve, but what if he doesn't?

  A shaky breath slips from my lips, and it's followed by another. I stand.

  I'll just have to ask.

  I walk into the kitchen, where I fill up a glass with water, and I return to my room.

  Joseph's still asleep; he's facing me, and the peaceful expression underneath all the swelling and bruises brings relief to my anxiety.