a l e x
tw: not eating; depression; anxiety
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"Kellan Carver came in the office earlier," Mom tells me.
"Why? Mom, you're an accountant. Why on earth was Kellan in your office?" I ask.
"He said you needed to talk to him as soon as you could. He wasn't acting right. I think you should go over and see him, or invite him over here. I'm worried about him. He didn't look like he was eating much--"
I push back from the table.
"Bye Mom, I'm going," I say, grabbing my keys and phone.
I turn down his street and into his driveway. His parents aren't home- big surprise there. I use the house key he gave me and unlock the door and walk in.
I walk in the living room and find him on the couch.
"Hey," I say. "Can I come in?"
When he doesn't acknowledge me, I walk over to him and sit down.
"Hey," I say softly. He looks up at me and buries his head in my chest, sobbing.
"What's wrong?" I ask him. "My mom said you were in her office later. She also said it didn't look like you were eating. What's wrong?"
He doesn't say anything, he just cries into my chest. I pull him onto my lap more and hold him against me.
"Ssh...it's okay, I'm here, I'm right here," I whisper in his ear. He looks up at me, tears streaming down his face.
"Come on, I'm going to take you home with me," I say. He gets off of my lap and I get up.
"Do you need anything from here?" I ask him.
He shakes his head.
"No clothes? Blankets? Electronics? Books? Anything?" I ask.
He shows me his phone in his pocket and grabs his keys on the way out.
The drive to my house is absolutely heartbreaking for me, so heartbreaking in fact, I have to pull over:
Once we pull off of his street, I take his left hand and intertwine my fingers with his. He looks out the window, his hand by his mouth. I know he's crying.
"Don't hold it back, please, I know that it only makes it worse." I say quietly, looking at him.
He looks at me. Then he whimpers. He covers his mouth with his free hand, and I pull over into an empty parking lot. He opens his mouth to say something, but all that escapes is a loud sob. My heart falls apart. I get out of the driver's side and go to the passenger's side, telling him to get out of the car. We both go to the backseat and I pull him onto my lap gently, and hold him close, rocking back and forth without realizing it. He continues to sob and I continue to hold him close. I press my face against his, and let him cry it out. He finally calms down enough for me to talk to him a little bit.
"Oh bubba, I know it hurts," I say. "But can you tell me what happened? What's going on?" I stroke his cheek gently, and wipe away tears that fall with my thumb.
"M-my p-p-p-parents ob-obviously w-w-w-w-weren't there, a-a-a-as you s-s-s-saw....my d-d-dad left and my m-mom said she hated me and hoped she never saw me again, and then she left with my d-d-das." He stutters, trying to hold back the sobs. "A-and I know it shouldn't hurt as much as it does, but it really freaking hurts, Alex."
"Oh bubba," I say softly, squeezing him tightly. "When did this happen?"
"L-last Th-Th-Thursday."
As soon as Kellan calms down enough for me to drive home, I help him in the passenger's seat and hold his hand the whole way home. I pull in the driveway and help him out of the car and into the house. Mom looks up as we come in and starts to say something, but I shake my head vigorously. I lead him up the stairs and into my room, where he sits down on the bed. I run into my bathroom and grab a washcloth, setting it with warm water and going back to him. I wipe down his face with the washcloth, and take off his jacket, then go to my dresser and pull out a pair of sweatpants and a comfy shirt of mine. I lift his shirt over his head and replace it with the one I pulled out of the drawer, doing the same with his pants. When he's changed, he clutches my hand in his. The pile of his clothes and the washcloth lay forgotten in a pile beside the bed. He pulls me down towards his and presses his lips against mine. His lips move against mine, slowly at first, but then hungrily, we kiss each other and with every kiss, it gets steamier and steamier. I climb on top of him and roll us over so he's on top, my hands going around his waist. Did I really just dress him only to undress him? We pull away, both of us panting and smiling, he leans his head against mine.
"I love you," he says. "I know it's probably too soon, but I don't care. I love you."
"No," I say. "It's not too soon because I love you too,"
I pull him down and wrap my arms around him tightly- but gently.
