Under the Bridge

chapter twenty two- "half naked"

"I BROUGHT A BRIBE." He says, with only a speck of humor lacing his voice as he lifts up the bag of candy. "Can I talk to you?" 

My lips curled up into a weak little smile as I opened the door to the balcony. "How did you get here?" I asked, looking down at the ground, which sits three stories below the two of us. 

"I walked." He replies, briskly, cruising past me and inviting himself into my home. 

That wasn't what I wanted to know, but I didn't want to press him any further, he was hurting. "Sorry for popping in all unannounced." He sounds casual, but I know there's a little pain beneath his voice that he's burying behind small talk. 

"Sit down, Liam." I instruct, motioning to the edge of my bed.  

My mother lives on the other wing of my house, so there probably wouldn't be any chance of her hearing anything. I'm particularly worried as to what she'd find, but there is a lingering anxiety picking at the edge of my mind. 

So I do what I used to do when I was feeling depressed so she wouldn't talk to me. 

I lock the door. 

Now, she won't care enough to check up on me, even though she probably wouldn't do it, anyways. 

Liam just gives me a knowing look as I take a seat beside him. I rest my hands on my lap and look up at him. "Are you okay?" I ask. 

He shrugs. "I don't want to be in the same house as the people who locked her up." He mumbles, voice deep and hoarse. 

I nod. 

"I'm sorry for bothering you while you were studying." He notes, looking over at the books piled on my desk. 

I shrug. "I have a hundred and six in the class, I can do without turning in one homework assignment." I admit, biting the inside of my cheek. The thought sends me into a spiral of panic, but the lie soothes the room. 

Yes I have 106%, but I won't be able to sleep until I finish this page. 

"Can I ask you a personal question?" He asks, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Yes." 

Not yeah, or a shrug, but an affirming yes. I don't mind telling him things anymore. I feel better the more he knows. 

"Did your anxiety ever get so bad that you thought about..." He can't finish the sentence, his words dull out a little bit, as though the words can't get articulated. 

"Anxiety and depression work hand-in-hand sometimes. You just want the panic to stop, and you'll do anything to make it happen." I reply, telling someone for the first time since a doctor in middle school. 

I'm sure there's a tear trickling down my cheek, I feel the cold brush up against my cheek, trickling down until it approaches my chin and--

Liam's thumb brushes it away. 

I tilt my head to the side and rest it on his arm. I would've rested it on his shoulder, but that would imply that I was tall enough to make that happen, and I wasn't. 

"I hope she feels better." He mutters. 

"You can't fix people, Liam." I reply. "You just have to stand by them and help them learn to handle their problems." 

He says nothing, but I hear his heart beating slowly in his chest, relaxed and calm, unlike mine, which is always in a panicked frenzy. 

"Why are you so smart?" He asks. 

"I'm not." I say back. "I just study a lot." 

"No, I mean that last thing you said was genius, like everything you say." I shake my head a little but I don't respond. "I read once that the smartest people are the most likely to be depressed."