Camp for the Emotionally (Un)Stable || Lams

Chapter Seventeen: Reality Check: Life Sucks

Laurens|First Person

I've been thinking a lot about Alex lately. I mean, I think about him a lot anyway, but I've been thinking about everything I don't know about him. He's still that quiet boy with the large sweater from the first day of camp sometimes, and we only have another month together. A foster kid, that I know, he grew up the Caribbean and moved to Northern California at some point during spring. 

I glance over at him, sitting on his bed and looking down at a piece of paper he pulled out of the envelope delivered to the cabin this morning. He looks distraught with whatever he's reading, and a part of me wishes that the letter had been lost in the mail so that I didn't have to see him so upset. I know that's selfish though, to wish he was happy for my own benefit.

"What is it?" I ask. He looks up from his letter and shrugs, though his expression is sad. His eyes are red like he's trying not to cry. I stand up and walk over to him, pausing before him. 

He looks up at me, sniffling a little, "they're sending me to a new home when I get back. They already packed up the rest of my stuff." He wipes at his eyes quickly. 

"Oh, Alex..." I start, running a hand over the back of his head. I stop at his neck as he looks down. "It's ok, we'll figure it out." He nods solemnly. I frown down at him, setting a hand on his shoulder. I nudge him back on the bed and sit down with him. He sighs and leans against me.

I pick up his hand in my own and squeeze it. He shakes a little beneath me, but all I can do is offer him a side hug. 

"Can I ask you a question, John?" He manages in a shaky voice. 

"Sure, what is it?" 

"Why are you here?" He says abruptly. I pause for a moment, that's not what I was expecting. I shrug minutely, looking over at him, though he keeps his eyes trained on our fingers. 

"They say it's depression and anger issues," I chuckle awkwardly. It's odd letting him see that side of me. I'm used to hiding all my problems behind my personality. "I'm not sure if I necessarily agree though." He hums a little in understanding. "What about you, what kind of label did they stick you with?" He sighs deeply. 

"PTSD, anxiety, depression, had bulimia for a while..." He trails off, though I'm too stunned to say anything. "You name it and I've probably been tested for it." I wrap my arms around him, doing what I know best, protecting him. Well, at least trying to. 

"You want to elaborate on any of that?" I ask, not to be pushy, but because I don't want him to feel like I'm ignoring his issues because I don't have any myself. He shrugs a little and I press my lips to his hair. "You don't have to if you don't want to, baby." I mutter, feeling butterflies at the petname. 

"Uh, when I was a kid my mom died and I was on my own so they kind of just let me live with whoever wanted to take me in the Caribbean." I nod, remembering him telling me he lived in the Caribbean when he was younger. "Then there was a hurricane so I was sent to live with some second-cousin-twice-removed. He committed suicide a couple years ago so I was put into the system." 

I'm not sure how to react. Tears threaten to spill out of my eyes, but I force them away. I can't cry for him, not when he's right here. That's too cruel. I stroke his hair again, holding him against my chest. "So that's when things went downhill?" I settle on, earning a  small nod in return. He whimpers a little, so I just lace our fingers. "You're ok, Alex. I'm here for you." He stays quiet, but I know he hears me. 

"What about when you can't be there, John?" He asks softly. My chest aches for him as I tighten my grip on his body and shake my head quickly. "Face it, I'm leaving and we have no way to keep in touch." 

"No, Alex. Don't say that. You know it isn't true." I kiss his hair again, doing anything I can to push away the inevitable situation that I won't be able to hide from in a couple weeks. "I will find you, I swear. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't." I stroke his hair, rubbing circles on the back of his hand. I would never just leave this boy. He doesn't deserve that. 

"Why do we have to live?" He looks at me, wide eyed. Tears blur my vision as I let him turn around so he can face me. "It's so pointless, I mean my whole life has been disappointments. Why do I have to keep living it?" A tear rolls down my cheek and I gasp out a sob. He keeps looking at me, questioning. 

"I don't know, baby. We have to though. You have to, for me." He shrugs a little, wiping away my tear and settling back into my lap as I silently cry behind him. After a few minutes though, he falls asleep and I'm left by myself to dwell on his thoughts. 

Alexander. Dead. 

The words don't fit together. They're not right. He can't die. I need him alive if I'm going to have any reason to keep going next summer. I need something to get me up in the morning. He's the only reason I can get dressed anymore anyway. 

One more part till part one is done! Whoop for that.

Also you guys want a Mullette? Because I'm probably going to publish a Mullette so accept it.
<3