All Too Well - Erik Menendez

The Explosion

Beverly Hills. CA. 1988.

Lyles POV:

This entire week has been fucked. Fucked in every sense of the word.

Yesterday was an embarrassment. You can only have so much of a 'celebration' when you're given those poor excuses as fucking parents. My fathers behavior yesterday was nothing short of disgusting.

Flashback to yesterday.

I make my way out of the yard, past the living room sneaking into the foyer and up the stairs, carefully and cautiously to avoid any interaction with my father. If he knows I'm taking food up to Erik like this, I won't hear the last of it. My feet carry me fast up the stairs, I'm desperate, starving to see the one who's most important in my life.

I approach Erik's bedroom, pausing to assess what my approach towards him should be.

"Erik." I knock twice. Silence.

"Room service!" Silence.

"I've got food for you." Silence.

"Buddy, you in there?" My concern grows.

Taking the initiative, I turn the handle to his door. Pleased when it begins to open. I push carefully, peaking my head around the corner of the door before it's even fully opened.

There he is.

In bed.

His body convulsing as he attempts to silence his sobs, failing entirely.

"Oh Erik." I move inside and shut the door behind me, gently.

After placing the plate of food on his desk area, I make my way over to his bed. Sitting on the edge, and if like we're magnets pulled to each other, he immediately shifts so his arms are gripping around my waist, his head laying on my lap as his sobs escape loudly, my abdomen becoming drenched from the influx of tears falling from his beautiful blue eyes.

"Whats happened buddy?" My hands find their way to his curls, burying themselves deeper and deeper into his soft forest of locks.

Nothing but sobs escape him. He's broken. He's on the edge, I just feel it. Erik has always been emotional, I have sat countless times holding him as his endless sobs escape. His heart is made of the most fragile glass, it's one of his best qualities. However that man downstairs is not the right person to live with when you are as gentle as Erik. It is clear to me however that Eriks condition has worsened ever since I left for Princeton. Guilt eats me up every night knowing I left him in this house, by himself. What was I supposed to do? Princeton was never my choice, Erik would be living with me far from here if I had any say in the decision.

I won't act coy. I know what my father has been capable of in the past when it comes to Erik and I. Not keeping his words to himself, not keeping his hands to himself. But we're older now and my father learnt years ago when we were still kids how to keep his hands to himself. So I can't imagine what has been said to make Erik react like this. What is my father saying that is causing this gentle boy to break so hard.

"E, I need to know what he's said to you." I slide my hand across his jaw, hoping to lift his head to make eye contact with him, however his head stays firmly against my bare stomach.

"Why haven't you came downstairs today?"

"I love you so much."

"Fuck Erik, say something!"

My mind begins to spin in circles, nothing helps. That fucking asshole knew Erik was in this state. All day I've been downstairs, giving my father the benefit of the doubt when he said Erik wasn't feeling well and didn't know why. Last fucking time I'll take his word again. I should've fucking known better.