Learning to Live, Again

Chapter Fourteen

Caleb's POV

"Dean, please open the door," I called through the bedroom door. Heath stood beside me, his arms wrapped around himself as he tried to mimic my disapproving stance. His brown curls had grown out and were sitting in his eyes a little, and I made a mental note to get his hair cut. He can grow his hair out as long as he wants, but I want to be able to see his eyes. 

I sighed, and knocked on the door again. "Dean, open the door. I mean it this time." There was shuffling inside the room, but the sound seemed to be moving away rather than closer. Sighing, I set my forehead against the door. "Dean," I said, my voice pleading, "open up. It's not safe for your door to be closed. What if something were to happen to you?" 

"Well, you're just gonna hafta open the door," Heath replied, with a "what kind of question was that" look. 

I smiled. "Yes, well, I can only do that if the door was unlocked."

Heath laughed. "No. I open the door when it's locked all the time." 

I raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on my face. "Oh really?"

He dropped his arms, nodding in an over exaggerated manner. "Uh huh."

I stepped back. "Well, why don't you open it for me then?"

He took a step back. "Well, I can't."

"And why can't you?"

He scrunched his face up in thought, like his mother used to do, and my chest hurt at the little action. Then, he grinned as he said, "Well, 'cause you're watching. I hafta do it alone."

I laughed. "Would you like me to leave now so you can do it?"

He shook his head quickly. "I can't do it now. You know 'bout it." 

I smiled. "Oh, of course; my bad."

Heath wrapped his arms around himself again. "When is dinner? I'm hungry."

I sighed. "I know. As soon as Dean unlocks his door-"

Heath kicked the door be5fore I even finished my sentence, and then he was yelling. "Dean, I'm hungry!" I grabbed Heath by the arm and pulled him back from the door.

"What do you think you're doing? You don't kick doors."

Heath gave me a pouty-lip. "B-but, I'm hungry, and Dean won't come out."

I sighed. "I know, but that doesn't give you the right to kick the door. Now, go downstairs and wait for me."

I knocked on the door. "Dean, please open up. I just want to talk." After a few moments, Dean opened the door, and I frowned. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was a mess. He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He held the bear Niamh had given him in his other hand. He never let go of that thing; not since Niamh was found dead.

I knelt down, taking his hand in mine. He flinched, but otherwise seemed okay. "Dean, I know it's rough. I'm sorry." 

He sniffled. "She's not dead," he hiccuped, his bottom lip sticking out. "She was my only nice mommy. My other mommy was mean. She h-hurt me. She was my nice mommy." Dean started to bawl, and my heart ached for him. "Sh-she w-was my n-nice m-m-mommy." I pulled him into my arms and let him cry into my chest. His fragile shoulders shook, and I realized for the first time how much he had truly stopped eating. He'd been picking at his food, but I hadn't realized he really hadn't eaten.

"I have an idea," I began.

Dean leaned back, wiping his nose on his sleeve again. "W-what?"

I chewed my lip. "I can't give you Niamh back, but I can give you something else?"