It's Harder Breathing Next To You // KELLIC

8

"Are you hungry?" Vic asked as the two of us hopped down the stairs. This was weird. I never in a million years thought that I would be in Vic's house, alone, with him acting nice to me. It was too weird and it made me anxious and paranoid. There's got to be a catch and I don't want to hang around and find out what it is. He won't let me go to school but he didn't say anything about going home.

"No. I think I might just go home." I said.

Vic spun around and looked at me as if I were crazy.

"Uh, no." He said.

"Uh, yes." I retaliated. My life, my rules. I went to walk past him towards the door but he grabbed hold of my wrist. Like always when someone touches me, I panicked, shook myself out of his grasp and took a few steps back. He rolled his eyes.

"What if your dad is there?" He asked. I hadn't thought about that. I just shrugged.

"So what if he is?" I asked, still trying to keep up the charade that there's nothing wrong at home.

"Bruises, Kellin! They didn't come from nowhere!" He was shouting now.

"Why do you even care?!" I yelled back, getting just as annoyed with this conversation as he was.

"I don't fucking know!" His outburst was followed by a silence. He looked angry with me but he didn't look like he was going to hurt me. He kept his distance and didn't try to touch me again. I think he was beginning to understand that I hate being touched, it always makes me feels like the person touching me is in control and with one swift movement they could hurt me.

"You aren't the boss of me." I said softly. I don't know what brought all of this on. What makes him think that he can tell me what to do? He should be the last person in the word that can tell me what to do.

"Newsflash, I saved your life last night. I should be entitled to controlling it for at least a day so you don't go and fuck it up again." He said. Fuck it up again? He no longer looked intimidating and in control, instead I saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes and that's when I realized he wants to keep me here to make sure I'm not going to try and kill myself again.

"I'm not going to hurt myself again." I whispered.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" He asked.

"Because I called Mike for help. Would I have done that if I wanted to die?" I asked.

"Would you have taken a bottle of painkillers if you didn't?" He shot back.

"It was a mistake." My quiet voice was barely audible, I'd be surprised if he even heard me, but I didn't want to speak any louder because my voice would probably betray me. It was a touchy topic, I mean, I tried to take my own life last night. That's a huge deal and I have barely thought about it. I know that when I get home it'll be the only thing going through my mind and I'll break down, but I don't want to do that here.

"Stop looking at me like you're terrified of me." He said with a frown. He was wrong, sort of. I was more scared of myself right now, but he doesn't have to know that.

"But I am terrified of you." I said truthfully. He sighed, leaning against the banister of the stairs.

"Look, you can either go to school where Craig is waiting for you, or you can go home to your Dad, or you can stay here with me. Who do you hate more?" He asked. I could see his point. I hate him, but I hate Craig and my Dad a lot more. I sighed, knowing that I was giving in.

"Fine. Congratulations, you're only my third most hated person." I teased. He looked somewhat offended.

"Can you really blame me?" I added.

"No, I guess not. Come on, I'll make you something to eat." He changed the topic. He turned and walked off, with me following him. I guess I should take advantage of his peculiar kindness. I get the feeling it's not very often when he's nice to people and it's also not very often when people are nice to me. I followed him into the kitchen and he ruffled through a pantry before turning back to me holding a small box.

"Pop-tarts?" He asked. I just shrugged and nodded. The movement once again made my vision go blurry for a moment. I clutched my forehead and leant against the kitchen bench.

"Hey." Vic got my attention. I looked up at him. He took a step towards me and reached out a hand. He stopped himself though, dropping his hand to his side. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I said as my mind went back to normal. I guess I should have stayed at the hospital over-night, but then my Dad would have found out I was there. I probably ought to be at least a little bit grateful to Vic for getting me out of there. Vic looked at me with concern for another second before his face went emotionless again.

"What flavour?" He asked, holding up the pop-tart box.

"Um, blueberry?" I asked. He got it out of the packet, along with another one and put them in a toaster. He turned back to me and we stood there in an incredibly awkward silence for two minutes. I ended up looking away from him and flicking through some random home design magazine, pretending to be completely interested in it. Finally he shoved the pop-tart in front of my face. I took it and thanked him before taking a bite. I only just noticed how hungry I was, so it didn't take me long to devour the tasty treat.

"Hungry much?" Vic asked with humor in his voice.

"No." I lied with a mouth full of food. I glanced at his disbelieving face and swallowed the food. "Not anymore."

He smiled for a split second before it disappeared. He continued to slowly eat his pop-tart.

"So uh, what's the deal with your mom?" He broke the silence.

"What do you mean?" I asked cautiously. No one outside of my family has ever asked me about her. The kids at my old school didn't even noticed she left.

"Well, where is she? Like, your dad hits you, does she even care?" He asked.

"I don't know." I shrugged. "She left us a few months ago."

He looked at me sympathetically and I hated that.

"Let's work on our music assignment." I said, putting on a cheery voice.

He looked slightly taken aback at my change of mood and topic, but he just nodded and motioned for me to follow him. I followed him back up the stairs and into his room which I had been asleep in earlier. I wonder why I was put in his room and not Mike's, or a spare bedroom, that's if they had one. Vic picked up his acoustic guitar which was leaning against the wall next to his door, then he jumped on his bed, sitting cross legged, holding his guitar.

"Sit." He ordered. I did as I was told and sat on the bed next to him.

"Okay, what kind of lyrics have you got? Happy, sad, or something else?" He asked.

I suddenly regretted suggesting this. I have lyrics, I have a lot of lyrics, but the thought of telling him what they are...well that didn't go over well with me.

"I um, I can't tell you because my lyrics notebook is at home." I said.

"Okay, but you can tell me the mood of the song, like should I be playing slow, fast, upbeat?" He asked.

"I don't know." I said, still too shy to say anything about my lyrics. Besides, I have so many I haven't even chosen one.

"Oh come on, Kellin, just give me one verse?" He asked. I shook my head, no. "One line?" Once again I refused.

"How am I supposed to know what to play?" He was getting annoyed now. I just shrugged again. This was definitely a stupid idea. My lyrics are personal. I don't even know why I agreed to this.

"Okay then, I'll just have to assume it's a country hoe-down then." He joked. He started to play a horrible sounding country song.

"No, I hate country." I protested, but he kept playing.

"Don't break my heart, my achy breaky heart." He sang in an over the top country accent. He sounded truly ridiculous.

"Stop." I said and I could help but laugh.

"No way, this is what our song is going to be like unless you give me something." He said. "Oh, how about this?"

He changed the tune to Sweet Home Alabama and started singing. His singing was totally playful and I know he was only joking around and over-exaggerating his accent, but behind that I could hear a really good voice.

"Join in, you know you want to." He said with a wink when there was a break in the lyrics.

"You're an idiot." I said. I wondered how the hell this happened. How did we go from arguing to jokingly playing and singing classic songs? I swear he's bipolar or something. Or maybe I am because I went from depressed, to scared, to joking around within the span of half an hour. I could tell what he was trying to do. He was trying to cheer me up and it was working, but what I didn't know was why he was going through such an effort for me. We're supposed to hate each other. I'm sure that tomorrow at school everything will be back to normal.

We didn't even work on the assignment at all for the rest of the day. I figured that I must have woken up some time in the middle of the day because we were only sitting there for a few short hours before I looked at the digital clock in his room and saw that it was three o'clock. We had spent the whole afternoon messing around with different genres of music because I still refused to tell him anything about my lyrics.

"Why can't you be like this all the time?" I asked him after we finished singing our own rendition of Rebecca Black's Friday. It sounded so stupid, but it was actually kind of fun. I can't remember the last time I genuinely smiled and had fun like this.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean, I don't know why you act so tough at school all the time. Why not act like this; like yourself?" I asked. I probably shouldn't be asking questions like this, but after this afternoon I felt comfortable being around him, even though I knew it wouldn't last and he's only being nice to me because I tried to kill myself last night.

"How do you know that this isn't fake and that how I am at school isn't the real me?" He asked. He had a point. He's so confusing and I don't know the real him. He's more of a dick than he is nice. I guess I'm just holding on to false hope.

"Wishful thinking, I suppose." I said.

He stopped playing the guitar and put it down next to his bed.

"I'll take you home now if you want." He said it like it was a question, but I knew I had no say in the matter, but I still protested just because I knew it annoyed him.

"I can walk." I said.

"No." He said, getting up from the bed. That was all he had to say about the matter and I wasn't going to argue. Besides, it's three o'clock which means everyone will be getting out of school, including Craig, he could drive by while I'm walking home and do God only knows what to me.

I followed Vic out of his room and out of the house. We got into his car without another argument and we drove the few minutes towards my house.

"I shouldn't have to tell you that what happened today stays between us, right?" He asked. He was so determined not to let anyone know that deep down somewhere behind that tough exterior, was someone that actually knew how to have fun and be nice to people. I don't know if I'll ever understand why he wants the world to think he's a horrible person, but he's been good to me today so I owe it to him to respect what he wants, no matter how confused it makes me.

"Whatever." I accepted.

Vic stopped his car outside my house. My dad's car was in the driveway, but after a minute he made no appearance at the door or in the windows so I don't think he heard us here.

"Are you going to be okay?" Vic asked.

"Yeah. It should be fine." I said, only half believing myself. "He got all of his anger out last night. It should be okay for a few days."

I looked from the house back up at Vic. He looked worried. I hadn't really officially confirmed to him that my dad hurts me, but I guess he knows it for sure now.

"Um, thanks, for everything. I'll see you around." I said and went to open the door.

"Wait a second." He said. I stopped what I was doing without a complaint. Secretly I didn't really want to leave. In that house was hell, here with Vic was...well...a little bit better than hell.

"Do you have your phone with you?" He asked.

"Uh no, it's probably still inside." I said.

"Okay, umm..." He trailed off and then he leant over to me to reach the glove compartment. I sat back and my breathing involuntarily hitched as his body reached across mine. I don't know what came over me, but his sudden close proximity made me feel...I don't know...strange. He pulled back, holding a sharpie and took my hand in his. I went to pull it away.

"Not going to hurt you." He reminded me and I noticed him roll his eyes. I relaxed a bit, but was still feeling anxious. He then wrote a series on numbers on my arm, but my anxiety got the best of me and I pulled my hand away before he could finish.

"Kellin." He said softly but forcefully. He was looking directly into my eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

How could I trust him? This was all getting too weird. I opened the car door and went to make my escape, but he clutched my wrist and yanked me back in. I turned to him, getting ready to tell him to leave me alone but I was silenced. He pressed his lips against mine lightly. I stopped breathing and my stomach was doing flips. He pulled away before I even got the chance to process what was happening. I looked at him in shock and he looked back at me with his usual impassive face. He pulled my arm to him again and finished writing his number.

"Call or text me if you need anything." He muttered, letting go of my arm and suddenly looking disinterested. He faced back to the road, seemingly dismissing what just happened.

I looked at him one last time in complete confusion and then got out of the car. He was gone within seconds.

"What the fuck?" I whispered to myself.