Catboy

30: lloyd

Lloyd stared out the window, a lukewarm cup of coffee gripped tightly in his hands. Lawrence sat across from him, sipping his own drink. Neither of them spoke.

Erica's death couldn't have come at a worse time- Julian was meant to be attending college tours the morning after. Even though Lloyd and Lawrence had protested, Julian had still gone. Maybe it was for the best. Arin hadn't said anything, just let him go with cold, empty eyes.

He was currently lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling and fidgeting with a piece of string. The three of them waited in silence.

Lloyd impatiently checked his phone, hoping for some sort of news. No messages, no calls. He swivelled in his chair, turning to face Lawrence. "When'd he say he'd be home again?"

"I don't know," Lawrence shrugged. "Have you tried calling him?"

"Yep. No answer." Lloyd sighed, folding his legs up to his chest and curling up into a ball. "I think his train should be arriving by now."

"Is he catching a taxi?"

"Yes," Arin muttered, voice empty and broken. His gaze was vacant. He'd been the same way for the past two days. "He said he'd rather die than hitch a ride with me."

Lloyd winced. "Sorry."

"Not your issue," Arin replied. "Don't bother."

Lloyd turned back to his coffee, gently blowing at the foam swirled around the top. It wouldn't help- if anything, it would just make the already room-temperature coffee even colder. Still, he felt like he needed something to do. Anything was better than watching Arin stare a hole through the roof.

Lawrence seemed to notice his discomfort and offered him a small smile. He forced himself to grin in response.

He said he'd rather die than hitch a ride with me.

Lloyd knew that, try as he might, he'd never understand what Julian had gone through. No matter how many stories he listened to, it was never going to be the same thing as feeling the sting of real-life abuse. Part of him was obscenely grateful for that; but another part of him wished that he could understand just a little more.

He'd already seen the ugly side of Erica, but that was only emotional abuse. He shuddered. Don't think about that. He brushed a strand of blue hair out of his eyes. He'd dyed it the night before.

Both Julian and Arin had gone through so much at such a young age. They'd felt the pain of physical abuse, they'd gotten sick and been offered no medicine. They'd been left for dead countless times, and their only option, in the end, had been to run away.

And still, Arin was grieving.

Lloyd couldn't understand it- not really- but Julian was even worse. He'd absolutely refused to care, blocking everything- and everyone- out. Arin had cried when he got home, throwing himself down on the sofa and sobbing. Julian hadn't even bothered to check whether he was alright. Lawrence had had to carry him to bed and give him sleeping pills to calm him down.

Julian couldn't give less of a shit.

Arin was grieving, and nobody seemed to understand. It just... didn't make sense. After years of abuse and neglect, he was still broken at the realisation his abuser was gone. It made sense for Julian to be happy, to be free. But Arin was another story, rough and ragged around the edges. He had barely eaten in the past day.

Even though he'd been hurt so badly, he was still grieving. Lloyd couldn't understand it- didn't want to understand it.

Still, he knew someone that probably could.