Chapter Twenty-Seven (pt. 1) [Liam]

WARNING: This chapter contains discussions of mental health.

It's the last Saturday of spring break week.

Trey Coleman, Brunson High's most infamous left-winger, led a small group of current and former hockey players — the latter back home for the break — in organizing a get-together at the recreational center. The kind of get-together that involves alcohol, drunk hook-ups and the possible occasional boose-related injury.

I did my mandatory showing, like seemingly everyone else under twenty-three in the Brunson-Lake City area. That includes some of the guys from the Olympic ski team who, though they don't always show up, are always a hit when they do.

The second the hockey guys started pouring in, though, I told my friends I needed to get my phone charger and bailed. Presently, I am hiding in my room over The Lodge. Like the coward I am.

It's been over a week since I confronted Eli and I've avoided him since. It hasn't been as hard as I imagined it would be. Especially since school paused. Mostly, I stayed away from The Lodge and the Ice Arenas during off-practice hours. I have yet to see him for possibly seven days.

Seven days in which he never texted or tried to reach out in any way.

It's pathetic and frustrating that I know a part of me expected — or rather wished — he would have at least tried. Even if it was just for a half-assed attempt at a booty call.

Like I said. Pathetic.

It's kind of on me. It was all supposed to be a merely physical thing between us. That's how it started, I think. I don't even know when I started letting my guard down. I guess I was arrogant. I thought I was so good at keeping things separate, and that I'd never fall for a guy like Eli Blake.

When did it all went to shit? When did I start catching feelings? When did I decide emotionally constipated, short-worded jocks were my sore spot?

I'm starting to think it can't have been on that last night we spent together. I was in too deep by then already. It wouldn't have affected me the way it did if I hadn't already... attached.

It creeped in silently and inconspicuously. The way my mom always said it would whenever I started to care for someone for the first time. Why is that woman always right?

There's a knock on my door.

I'm frozen in place for a second, transported back to a night seemingly a lifetime ago, back when a lot of things were much simpler.

It's not him.

I will open the door and it will be Mack, drunk and lost, wanting to drag me back to the recreational center, with or without phone charger. Or I will open the door and it will be Gus, fully intoxicated on the excitement of the party more than the boose, prattling about this and that boy. I will open the door and it will be Chloe, wanting to hide out here with me, possibly watching a TV show together in complicit silence. I will open the door and it will be Nat, worried I have been gone for so long, asking if I need help with anything.

Except I haven't moved yet, and now there's a second knock.

I stand up from my bed and move to the door.

It's not him.

Except I open the door and it's Eli Blake.

There's a protest on the tip of my tongue, but it doesn't come out. I take a look at Eli's state. He has his arm on the door frame, supporting the weight of an unsteady body. He's wearing a steel-gray button-down over dark jeans. The color enhances the darkened shades of silver in his eyes. The maroon beanie tilted on his head brings out the blushing tinge on his cheeks.

And I can smell the liquor on him.

"Can I come in?" He asks racuously.

"Are you drunk again?" I shoot back.

Eli shakes his head, looking down.

"Are you lying?"

He shakes his head again. "Didn' work this time."

I frown. Does he mean the alcohol didn't work? As in, he wants to be drunk right now, but he's not? Or does he mean something else completely?

How could I know?! Eli never outright just says anything. And he doesn't let enough show on his face for me to try to read his mind, like he seems to want me to.

These are exactly the same red flags from last time. From that night that changed everything without really being any different from countless other moments we'd shared before.

Except tonight I shouldn't ignore it. Or let myself get distracted.

"Wanna come inside?" I offer.

Eli nods. He makes his way past me and into the room, wobbling a little on unstable legs. I watch him lean against the wall by the bathroom door, back pressed to the faux stone.

"Are you feeling okay?" I ask, closing the door and walking up to him. I'm starting to feel a little worried.

Eli answers with a head shake again, sliding his back down the wall until he's sitting on the floor. He clutches his beanie in one hand and pulls it off his head, squeezing the wool in a tight fist on his lap. I crouch down by his side on the floor, trying to get a better look at his face. I think he might be looking a little pale.

"Are you going to be sick?"

Eli shakes his head, eyes closing shut.

"Are you gonna tell me what you are feeling exactly?" I ask, setting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing," he speaks through a strained voice.

Something about his tone makes me pull back my hand. Slowly, I settle down on the floor next to him, with my back to the wall as well. I take care to keep a couple of inches of safe space between us.

For a few beats of silence, I rake my brain for a strategy on what to do next. What to say.

"Do you want to elaborate on that a little bit?" I ask, as softly as I can without sounding patronizing. "Just so I can know how to help."

Eli shakes his head again, chewing on his bottom lip. He'll leave it at that again, I think. I'll have to find another way to approach this. But he speaks before I have time to follow-up on that thought.

"Since my parents—" his voice breaks, but neither of us mentions it in the half-second it takes him to continue in a whisper, "I just feel nothing most of the time."

The next words leave his mouth like they have to be torn out from deep within him by force.

"When I do feel something, I feel like absolute shit. And I can't explain it, or fix it—" his voice wobbles a little. He keeps his eyes staring ahead, unmoving and unfocused. "At first I thought I was just sad—" he sniffs, "—then I was tired because of practice, and work... But I don't..." He sniffs again, rubbing the back of his free hand under his nose. Still not looking at me. "The only times it started to feel better was when I... when we..."

He doesn't finish that thought. His hand comes up again to wipe at something under his eye I pretend I don't see, and we both act like we don't know he's taking this minute to recover his voice.

He surprises me by looking at me with glossy eyes and trembling lips. My heart breaks a little.

"I know I was a jerk. To you, and Natalie, and a whole bunch of people. But I just don't know how to..." He looks away again, sniffing. "I can't—" his voice breaks, and he huffs. After a minute, he takes a shaky breath in and says, "Sometimes, just getting out of bed is..."

Each time he doesn't finish a sentence I want to reach out and hug him and tell him everything is fine. But I'm not sure that's the right move yet. I hear a dry sob and look back at him to see it wasn't that dry. Eli uses both his hands to wipe at the tears that have started running down his face.

In a reflex, I put my hand back on his shoulder and he looks up at me. Redder eyes stare back at mine, and I can see his pain. I can see just how hard it was for him to come here tonight. How desperate he must have felt. How desperate he has probably felt for nearly two years.

And then, for a second, I feel like an idiot. A self-obcessed idiot. It's sudden and seemingly disconnected, but I feel almost guilty. It doesn't necessarily make sense, but it's been so long since I've actually talked to Eli. Last time I did, I was utterly pissed at him. Now, I just feel... Stupid.

It's like a shame. The same kind of shame that gets teased in the back of my mind whenever I forget my sister's birthday. Or when Chloe makes a snide remark about something snotty and bratty I said. But it's bigger, and heavier, and worse. And I don't like it.

I use my hand on his shoulder to pull him forward and put both my arms around him. Eli moves as a stiff block. I rub one hand in small circles on his back, slow and carefully, while my other hand holds him close by the shoulder, loosely enough for him to pull back any time.

It's like the click of a latch when he starts crying. His whole body relaxing into the hug.

***

Sorry it took a while, but I've been struggling.

Now that it's here, sorry it's broken in half. Not sure when I'll be able to put out part two — hopefully tomorrow. (I'm just going to have some crazy days until next Monday).

Were you as surprised to see Eli dropping by as Liam was? What do you make of his breakdown? Are you scared for part two or excited?

If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider voting or commenting. As always, thank you so much for reading!!