Growing Pains

Chapter 9

The clock reads 00:01 am. It is now officially the 24th of December, Christmas eve and I have not heard from Sam since the hockey incident, with the exception of a text that had read:

More ice.

In truth, I had said text me if you need anything, but this was a little cold.

I've never had Sam be this angry at me, for this long and it's very disheartening.

I scroll further on my laptop, my eyes scanning the new information and I jot down the details of another apartment that looks affordable. The chances of Sam returning to his normal self seems to decrease with every day that passes, but I'm trying to take my mind off it. I nibble on my lip anxiously, glancing at my phone which is yet again void of any messages.

I sigh and rub my temples gently. The time on my laptop now reads 1:46am and I groan, thinking of all the time I am wasting worrying.

I could just go over there tomorrow, ask to hang out. But what if he doesn't want me there? That would be humiliating. He's probably not even asleep yet, he could be out though?

I push my laptop off my lap and strip off my shirt, deciding that the only escape I will get from my overactive thoughts is sleep. I brush my teeth and swap my contacts for my glasses, exhaling in relief as I do so. I walk to the hall to switch off the light when a curious bang echoes from my door. I watch it silently, several horrible horror-film scenarios leaping to the forefront of my mind. Helpful.

A pathetic, weak tapping ensues and I grab my hockey stick. I traipse forwards and take a deep breath, grasping the handle tightly before yanking it open.

A wasted Sam, dressed in nothing but red and white striped boxers, with matching knee length socks, woollen hat and round glasses slumps through the now open doorway.

"Where's Wally." I blurt, watching him sprawl across the floor.

"Here I am!" He announces, although muffled by the floor, flinging his arms up in a surprise motion.

I sigh heavily and nudge his feet inwards, closing the door behind him. I abandon my hockey stick and place my hands on my hips as I assess the mess in front of me. Part of me wants to take him downstairs and forget that this entire escapade ever happened, because he surely won't remember in the morning. The other, selfish part of me wants to keep him here, where I can keep an eye on him. It's been so long since we've spent any time together and I'm still quite unaware as to why.

I huff to myself and bend down, scooping my arms beneath his knees and under his arms. I pluck him up gently and move towards my bed. Sam hums in my arms and slumps his head back against my shoulder.

"Missed you." He mumbles and I smile properly for the first time in weeks.

"I missed you too." I state, nudging my bedroom door open with my foot. I go to place him on my bed but he shakes his head vehemently, clinging to my arms. I sigh but adapt, shifting his weight and walking over to my wardrobe instead. I raise a knee to help balance him as I root around, finding a spare pair of joggers and a t-shirt.

I throw them over my shoulder and kick the door closed, shifting so that I'm holding him firmly again. I place him down, successfully this time, and pull the shirt over his head, guiding his arms through the holes like a toddler.

I take off the glasses and his socks, before helping him guide his feet through the trousers. I stand up, breathless from the effort of dressing him and he laughs.

"Do I take your breath away, 'Lias?" He slurs, his head tilted to the side and a sly smile on his face.

"Frequently." I mumble, thinking of all the times I've had to chase, carry or care for the imbecile in front of me. For a moment I also, inadvertently think about how genuine his smiles are, and the twinkle in his eyes whenever he laughs.