$20 For You {D.H. & P.L.}

Let Me Go

Dan

How did I get here? Is all I can think, as my hand is literally a millimeter away from knocking on the door of Phil's house. I don't see why I even knocked, considering his parents aren't even home. Amazing parents, right? Stay with your son for one day and then flying off to another place. Great way to parent, all parents take notes. Looking down at my phone, and I remember why I am here, that damn text. Scrolling through the contacts on my phone, I click on Phil's and put the phone to my ear.

     Nervously playing with the lip ring (seriously I need to quit that) I listen to the silent tone of it ringing. 3. The longer it takes for him to pick up, the more my anxiety grows. After calling him twice, I decide to go by my gut, and just walk in. Looking through the familiar pristine house, which  I swear is owned by perfectionists. I make my way up the stairs, and down the carpeted hallway, till I reach Phil's room. What if he's okay, and I'm overreacting? Well fuck that now.

    I open the door, and see Phil laying on his bed, passed out from the looks of things. His fringe is stuck to his face, and the room smells horrendous. I see a half-empty vodka bottle, sitting on the bedside table, and notice the vomit on the bed, and covering his stomach. I put down my keys on his shelf, and shove my phone in my pocket, before walking over to him. If it wasn't for the fact he's covered in vomit, sweat, and reeks of vodka, you'd probably think he's sleeping, which is sadly not the case.

     Moving around him awkwardly, I snake my arms under his back, and under his knees, so I can pick him up. I pick him up quite easily, considering he has a very lean frame, and cradle his body to my chest. I make my journey down the hall, and to the bathroom, where I draw a bath, and let it fill. "Dan, what?" He mumbles, his voice barely audible over the running water. "Phil, you need a bath, between the vomit, vodka, and sweat. You need to get clean." I sigh, before grabbing a towel from the closet.

     "O...k..." he sighs softly, and curls into a fetal position, this time moving his head onto the rug better. "Phil, clothes. Off. You can't take a bath if you are fully clothed." I nag, sounding strangely like my mother. Oh dear lord, anybody but her. He mumbles something inaudible, and takes off his jeans, slowly, but he at least manages. I sit on the floor beside him, and grab the hem of his hoodie, which I slide off easily, and quite thankful he didn't wear a button-up today.

     I let him continue to get undressed, and feel a blush climbing its way up my face. Standing up again, I set my phone on the table, and I hear Phil get into the tub. Finally. "Why are you wasting your time on an alcoholic?" He pipes up, and I spin around to look at him. "I'm quite frankly not wasting my time, and somebody at one point did the same for me, so I figure I should return the favor." I shrug, before sitting beside the bathtub. He brings  his knees to his chest, and looks at me really confused.

    I look at him in his current state, and realize he won't remember anything I said probably, so I tell him. "I lived on the streets, and fell in with the wrong crowd. Didn't realize they were the wrong crowd until it was too late, they started selling me. My body. I got addicted to heroin, doing it on the daily, and one night my now roommate found me, laying on the street. He took me in, did basically the same thing I'm doing for you, and helped me through the withdrawal."

I remember that night. It was cold and dark, somebody had stolen my blanket. I see Phil, who's eyes look dazed again, and I was right, he won't remember this tomorrow. "I'll get you clothes, and wash the sheets. I'll be back to check on you." I make sure he is awake before leaving, and taking my phone with me. I go into his room, and take off the sheets, then go downstairs putting them into the wash.
   I see the spare set of sheets and grab them taking them upstairs with me. Putting them on the bed, and grabbing him clothes from his closet, I walk into the bathroom, where Phil stands with a towel around him, bracing the wall. I pass him the clothes and can't help but notice is bare chest. Pale, and his collarbones could hold water, and his hipbones cou- I'm gonna stop right there. By the time I'm actually out of my daze, he's dressed, and drowsy. 

     He walks ahead of me, his steps slow, until he reaches his room. I sit on his bed, and he curls up next to me, burrowing his face into my collarbone.