What Happened in Winter [boyxboy]

Chapter Twenty-One

River POV

The car ride was a blur. River was too busy trying to calm his brain. It felt like an over-heated cell phone, all those wires and microchips baking in the summer sun. So many thoughts gathered up there at once that it all sounded like white noise to him. Part of him contemplated jumping out of the moving car, willing to take the gamble and see if he lived or not.

"We're here," Craft announced with lackluster, breaking River from his self-destructive thoughts. Not waiting a second longer, Craft got out of the car, not even bringing his backpack with him. River pinched the bridge of his accentuated nose and muttered a curse before exiting the vehicle.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the Shepards," River blurted when he saw the destination and size of Craft's family's house. It was settled up on a hill, a long unpaved driveway leading back down to the main road. Trees were everywhere, making the place look like a haunted forest if it weren't for the beautiful and ornate, vintage brick-and-mortar house in the middle. It had white pillars out front and a beautiful garden blooming with azaleas and various other brightly colored flowers  wrapping around the back of the mansion.

Craft was staring at River, the key dangling in the lock. "Are you coming or what? I'm not driving you back to school."

"This place is beautiful," River said, walking up the front steps to stand by Craft.

"Yeah. It's nice. But only because my parents have people that take care of it. They don't do anything to care for this house," Craft grumbled, entering the foyer. "Take off your shoes. My mother will have a cow if dirt is tracked inside."

River slipped off his dirty shoes and set them subconsciously beside Craft's clean, never-scuffed sneakers. He led River down a hallway, past a very large and pristine sitting room, and into a huge kitchen with black granite countertops, dark wood cabinets, and gleaming-new appliances.

"Sit on a stool by the island. I'll make you something to eat," Craft said, turning his back to grab a loaf of bread out of a far right cabinet.

"The... what?" River asked, absolutely lost by  Craft's invitation.

"The island? The bar right here?" Craft said in confusion, pointing at the large built-in table in the middle of the kitchen. River flushed in embarrassment. "Oh," he said, and sunk down into one of the stools.

"You seriously don't know what an island in a kitchen is?" Craft asked skeptically, slathering peanut butter on a piece of bread.

River looked away and pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Not all of us are rich like you."

Craft shut his mouth and turned back around, adding peach preserves to the sandwich and bringing it to River, who was also silent. He took a bite of the sandwich. And then another one. And then another one.

"Did you like it?" Craft said, noticing how quickly River scarfed the food down. River looked down at his lap and nodded, hating that he was eating in front of someone. At home, he was forced to eat dinner with his mom, sister, and step-father. And dinner usually never ended well, with at least one person wearing their food by the end. Everywhere else, he was able to avoid eating in front of people.

"Do you like sweet things?" Craft asked. River didn't look up, but nodded again. Craft quietly arose and went to the refrigerator, pulling out a singular slice of light-colored cake. He set it in front of River.

"My mom ate all the other pieces, but there's one left. Go ahead and eat it," Craft said.

River hesitantly picked up the fork and took a bite. It was so sweet and light, vanilla with a hint of-