Twisted

Chapter Twenty-Five: Road trip

Josh' POV
Chapter Twenty-Five: Road Trip
*edited*

Callum was avoiding me...

That stung.

I hadn't told anyone about Callum kissing me, Callum and I acted like nothing happened.
So I didn't understand why he was avoiding me. As much as I love Callum (Love as a friend and like as a crush) I wish he'd realize that, as his best friend, when he ignores me after a simple accident: that shit hurts.

It was like taking six steps forward and twenty four steps back.

Although I did have to give him some slack. The times we have been hanging out his face had been etched into a frown, bags under his eyes. His normal emerald eyes were slightly duller and he was constantly asking if we could just hang in my room, call it a day and nap. He said it was about his sister, and some other stuff he'd just been thinking about. He wouldn't tell me what the other stuff was though.

Today he was over, but the second he walked in the smell of smoke wafted my nose and he went and collapsed on my couch, hands pressed into his eyes as he twitched every once and awhile, deep in his dreams.

Call me creepy or a stalker, I didn't care, I couldn't help but stare at him. An aching in my chest.

If Callum was going through something hard but couldn't consult on me because of what happened... I'd be willing to push away the crush I had on him, push away the way I looked at him, push away everything and just become his best friend again.

That's what he'd do for me.

I'd become the guy who promised to go through thick and thin with him.

I let out a groan and fell onto my back on the floor.

Why is this so damn difficult? I thought in irritation.

It's not like I wanted a crush on the messy, clumsy, sarcastic, tall, freakishly annoying and excruciatingly weird boy I called my best friend.

I was half about ready to grab a stick and bash it on him a few times to get 'revenge' before he stirred awake, misery etched on his face.

"You good?" I asked, gaining only a grunt in reply as he shifted his legs over the edge of the couch.

A sad look suddenly crossed his face and he rubbed his chin. A deep sigh leaving his mouth.

He looked exhausted. Dark gray bags were under his eyes, his brown hair was messier, greasier and more tangled than usual, His face looked like he had aged forty years, His shoulders were slumped, I noticed he was wearing the same clothes he wore when I saw him last two days ago, his hands were slightly shaking and his eyes looked so deeply sad.

He looked at me for awhile, and although I tried to push it back: my cheeks grew red as his eyes ran over me.

"This fucking sucks." He said in irritation, eyes darting away from me.

"What's wrong, Callum?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

He opened his mouth, eyes closed as if he was about to tell me... but then he stopped and shook his head.

"I just want to do something. Go out and do something but this fucking pandemic- and I- I-" he stuttered in anger. "I want to go to a bowling alley or a fucking movie theater and watch a cringy movie with you while we sit in the back and laugh." He ran a hand through his hair, "but noooo, can't do that. It's fucking Corona time isn't it? Isn't it?!" He said towards the sky, as if talking to god himself.

I walked towards him, sitting next to him and he did something that completely caught me off guard.

His legs went to the side of him and his head laid down gently on my lap. His eyebrows were squished together and when he finally looked me in the eyes I couldn't help but look away.