Scars (Sequel to Cuts) - Kellic // boyxboy

Chapter Eighteen

It's dark when Kellin gets home. I hadn't noticed it was dark until now. I've just been so out of it. Who knows how long I've been sitting in the dark for.

"Vic," he calls confused, coming into the living room.

He flicks the light on and I immediately shield my eyes from the unbearable light.

"Have you been laying there since I left?" Kellin asks sounding worried.

"No, I got up." I assure him to ease his mind.

"Oh, right, you got dressed." he points out, tiredly rubbing his temple.

I glance down at my clothes just to make sure I got changed. Hopefully the blood comes out of my other shirt.

"What are you doing just sitting here in the dark? Kinda thought you would have cooked by now." Kellin frowns.

Guilt washes through me. I've felt like a zombie practically all day. I don't even know if I have it in me to cook.

"Why don't we just get take-out?" I sigh, feeling a little weak as the air leaves my lungs.

"You were supposed to cook the steak tonight. It goes off tomorrow." Kellin frowns.

I consider just getting up and cooking but the thought literally makes me dizzy. I don't know if I can even get off the sofa.

"What if we just call it a loss and forget about the steak? I really don't feel like cooking." I suggest hopefully.

But Kellin doesn't seem to like the idea at all.

"Those steaks are ten dollars each, Vic. We can't just throw them out. That's money I worked for. You can't just throw my money away." he says with a snarky tone.

"Your money? I thought it was our money." I say definitively.

Tension lingers in the air for a minute then Kellin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"It is. It's our money. Don't worry about it. I'll cook." he murmurs, defeated.

The tension breaks as he leaves the room and I start feeling guilty all over again. Why can I just get up and cook dinner? Why am I so useless right now?

I hug my knees to my chest, desperately trying to push down all emotion as I listen to Kellin cooking dinner from the kitchen. I want to go in there and keep him company, ask him how his day went. It's the least I could do for being so unhelpful, but I feel like I might cry at any second and I don't want to do it in front of him. I don't want to stress him out even more.

I spend the next twenty minutes trying to calm myself until Kellin finally calls me in for dinner.

I take a deep breath, then push myself from the sofa. I steady myself as I'm hit with a wave of vertigo, then I make my way to the dining room.

Kellin's already eating by the time I've sat down. He still looks pissed-off which makes me hesitant to even breathe too loud.

I look down at the steak and homemade fries on my plate. It looks delicious in theory, but my stomach tightens and I realize I'm not at all hungry. I feel nauseous.

Kellin silently eats his food, the only sound being the knife and fork hitting the ceramic plate, which echoes deafeningly through the room.

I cut off a small bit of steak and force it into my mouth. But I'm chewing forever, dreading the moment I have to swallow it. I really don't feel like I can eat right now.

I manage to force down two small pieces of steak and a few small fries in the time it takes for Kellin to be finished.

He looks up from his plate for the first time since the meal began. He glances from my plate to me, then back down to my plate.