A slow fall

Chapter 43 - Caleb

   Froggy stared at me in judgement. Well, maybe not, but it felt that way. Like his eyes were boring into me, burning me with their intensity as he scolded me for my behavior. He sat beside Slothy on my bed, both of them watching me with their beady eyes as I got ready for school. A glance at my phone reminded me why I felt this way: I'd been avoiding Lucas.

Maybe it was because Froggy reminded me of Lucas. The teddy had belonged to Lucas for years before he was ever mine. Maybe it was simply the shame I felt, the way my heart raced every time my phone buzzed and I left it, letting the notification hide amongst the others. A growing pile that made my heart race and my fingers quickly swipe away the reminders. Maybe, secretly, I wanted someone to hold me accountable.

I put on the first hoodie I grabbed. The graphic design on the front that wasn't my usual style and a fit slightly too oversized to be intentional, I realised it was the hoodie Lucas leant me on Sunday. He'd joked about my 'Church Uniform', and when the hot air in Maxwells didn't seem to be enough to warm the neverending chill that had long since settled deep into my bones, Lucas handed his hoodie over, no hesitation. I'd tried to give it back, a faux argument of I don't want it, and me neither and I'll get it back another time and no, you wont, you do realise it's mine now forever that led to it hung up in my wardrobe and not his.

I debated it for a moment, putting it back was so easy, then, as if my hands were controlled by someone else, I was enveloped in warmth from the soft fabric and Lucas' lingering smell.

As fast as I picked it up I dropped it. The realisation of what I'd done, the impulsiveness I'd let take over me, forced the air out of my lungs. I couldn't think about it, I couldn't let my mind carry on venturing into place it wasn't welcome.

I walked downstairs to an empty house. My parents had already left for work, the only sounds were the creaking of the floor boards beneath my feet and the house settling, as if, like me, I couldn't quite rest without other people–my brothers–filling the space.

The photos on the wall caught my attention, a visual timeline of our lives displayed for all to see. My finger traced the bottom of the frame of the nearest one. It had three children, grins as big as their faces as they sat on a bench in the main square.

Hung beside it were the same three boys, slightly older but still as happy, with ice cream they'd somehow gotten everywhere in a way only kids could do.

The third photo was different. Two of the boys looked the same. Bigger once again, but smiles still present and wide as they stood shoulder to shoulder. The third boy smiled alongside them, but he stood apart slightly, his eyes no longer as bright. I hadn't realised how early it was, how young I had been when I stopped looking at the world in childish wonder.

It seemed so obvious now, looking at it in photograph form, that something had changed. The boy in the photo now looked like a stranger, the more of them I passed, the further away from reality he seemed to get. Yet, his face began to resemble mine more.

I didn't grab lunch before leaving the house. My heart pounded in my chest, my head ached, and the world felt like too much again. I focused on putting one step after the other. As I walked I fished my headphones out of my bag before putting them on my head and turning the volume as far up as I could bear. I wanted to drown everything out.

I thought about going out, getting drunk and forgetting. Did that sound fun? Drowning in pulsing lights, thumping music and endless waves of bodies. The smell of sweat and bad decisions lingering in the air, and sharks swirling the waters, preying on the unsuspecting. Maybe I'd let one take me, maybe that would reaffirm the truths I'd been told. I'd let it hurt, because it was meant to, because sharks bite and why should I expect anything less?