Authors: S.C. Stephens
It was seeing Denny’s bags placed behind the chair, his jacket, thrown over the back of it, that finally released the wall holding back my tears of guilt. I sank into the chair, nestled my head in the cool sleeve, and sobbed. What felt like hours later, I was still sitting in the chair, deep in thought and despair and guilt, when a soft knock on the door awoke me from my despondency. Wondering who could possibly be knocking at this hour, and hoping they didn’t wake Denny, I brushed away my tears and quietly went over and opened the door.
A worn looking Sam stood there, supporting a very drunk looking Kellan. “I think this belongs to you.” Not waiting for the shock to slide from my face, he stepped inside and half-dragged Kellan to the living room, shoving him down into the chair. “There, all yours.” I stared at Kellan in disbelief. He had definitely been a touch drunk last night, but I had never seen him anywhere close to this bad before.
He hunched over in the chair with his head hanging down, like he had lost the ability to sit straight. “What happened?”
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“Uh, whiskey, I’m pretty sure. I don’t know, found him like this.” He shrugged his massive shoulders.
“You found him?”
“Yeah, wasn’t hard. Nearly tripped over him, sprawled on my doorstep as he was.” He turned to leave, running a hand over his shaved head and then down his tired face. “Well, I got the idiot home. I’ve got to get some sleep, I’m beat.”
“Wait! What am I supposed…?” I let it trail off as Sam disappeared through the door. “Great…”
I walked back to where Kellan was still collapsed on the chair, wondering what had happened to him. Probably out partying with some girls. The thought irritated me and then I was irritated for being irritated.
I smacked his thigh. “Kellan…”
He slowly raised his head, his eyes squinting in the soft light from the lamp. “Hey, it’s my roomie…” He stressed the last word oddly and bit his bottom lip. Drunkenly, he stood up, or attempted to anyway. He collapsed back down in the chair, looking surprised.
I sighed and held out my hand. “Here, let me help you.” Anger flashed in his eyes as he looked up at me. “I don’t need your help.” He nearly spat the words at me.
Startled, I dropped my hand and watched him successfully stand up…and immediately start to tip over. I quickly helped him steady himself, putting my shoulder under his, my hand on his chest, supporting his weight… whether he wanted it or not. He sagged into me a little and made no move to push me away.
He smelled horrible - like whiskey and vomit. Again, I wondered what the heck he had been doing. “Come on.” I pulled him towards the stairs.
Being so close to him again, brought images of last night to my mind. I still wasn’t sure what to feel about that, other than guilty. I pushed it further back in my head. I couldn’t deal with that yet.
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Somehow I managed to get him up the stairs. For every two steps he clumsily took up a stair, he seemed to take one backward. At about the half-way point, he started to sink down and I feared for a minute that he was going to collapse on the stairs, on top of me. That brought to mind such a vivid memory, that I blushed and smacked him on the chest to keep him walking forward. He didn’t say anything, but glanced over at me, seemingly torn between irritation and another emotion I couldn’t even begin to guess. Near the top, we crashed into the wall rather noisily and I froze, looking over at my door, praying Denny didn’t wake up.
Kellan followed my gaze but I couldn’t see his expression, I was too intently watching the door. Not hearing any movements, I exhaled deeply and glanced up at Kellan, who had turned to stare blankly at the floor.
Wanting to help him in some way, I thought maybe showering away the smell permeated on him would ease his pain in the morning, since waking up that gross wasn’t going to be good on his stomach. I dragged him to the bathroom and set him on the toilet. He watched me quietly with unfocused eyes. I ran the water, wondering if he would be able to do this without killing himself. I blushed suddenly, wondering if I was going to have to undress him. He took the option away from me by standing awkwardly and stepping over the tub rim into the shower, fully dressed. He slumped against the far wall and sank down into the tub, closing his eyes and letting the water drench him. The water streamed down his face, his wet hair clinging to his skin, his lips partly open, breathing shallowly. His soaked shirt clung to his body. He was gorgeous, even stumbling drunk.
I sighed again. His boots were far enough from the water that I was able to get them and his socks off before they were completely soaked. I contemplated what else to do for him. I brought my hands back to his face and ran my fingers through his hair, letting the water soak in completely. He sighed, eyes still closed. I couldn’t stop the memory of clutching his hair last night. I swallowed the lump in my throat painfully.
He had gotten so still, that I was afraid he had passed out. Moving him would be impossible on my own. I would have to get Denny. What if Kellan let something slip around him? What if he flat-out told him? I desperately did not want Denny to know. He had actually come back for me. Given up everything and returned…just for me. It would kill him if he found out.
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I shut off the water, but he didn’t move. I brushed some strands of hair away from his eyes, still no movement. “Kellan…” I lightly smacked his cheek - nothing. “Kellan…” I smacked him a little harder. He moaned softly, and then groggily opened his eyes. He tried to focus on my face, then blinked his eyes excruciatingly slow and shook his head a little.
“Come on.” I tugged at his shoulder, wondering if I’d be able to get him back out of the shower. I had tried to help him, make tomorrow slightly better for him, but now it didn’t seem like such a great plan. Finally, my tugging got a response, and he slowly rose and exited the shower, stumbling and dripping water everywhere. I dried as much from him (and myself) as I could, finishing by scrubbing his hair a little and then running my fingers back through it. He looked a little pained when I did that, so I stopped.
I took his hand and led him back to his room. I had so many questions to ask him, but he didn’t seem eager to speak, and before things had gotten…intense between us last night, he had been respectful of my silence.
I could at least do the same now.
Being in his room with him again, brought back even more memories that I didn’t want to have right now. They got especially vivid when Kellan took off his shirt. I turned and headed back to the door when he started unbuttoning his jeans. As I was closing his door though, I couldn’t help but leave it slightly cracked and watch him. He started taking his jeans off, stumbling, and having a little trouble with the wet fabric. I considered going back to help him, but he finally managed on his own. Just in his boxers, he stood staring at his bed.
Suddenly, he ran his hand through his wet hair and turned to look at the door. I didn’t know if he could see me though the crack. I didn’t think so, with how difficult it had been for him to focus on me in the shower. I felt a little guilty watching him without him knowing, but I was just so curious as to what he was doing, I couldn’t stop.
His face was unreadable. He simply looked at the door, then back to his bed, then the door again. One last time he looked at his bed and then he seemed to lose the battle against gravity, falling heavily on top of the sheets.
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I watched for a few moments longer. When his breathing was slow and even, I figured he had finally passed out and I crept back into his room. I paused, watching his aching perfection in slumber. Finally, I fixed the messy pile of sheets around him until he was covered. Watching over him, I had a crazy desire to kiss him. I sat on the edge of his bed, sighed softly and leaned in to kiss his forehead. I brushed his hair back and stroked his cheek, wondering where he went today…if he had thought about our night together at all. Should I have told him Denny came back? Would he tell Denny? Would things change?
He stirred and I pulled my hand from his cheek. His hazy eyes found mine and I froze. “Don’t worry,” he mumbled. “I won’t tell him.” Then his eyes closed and he passed out.
I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering about that. Would he really not tell him? How did he even know he was back? What would tomorrow be like…?
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8
Chapter
The Asshole
The following morning I woke up groggy; it had been really hard to crawl back into bed with Denny. Especially when in his slumber, he had sighed happily and reached out for me. The guilt that had washed through me then had almost made me bolt from the room, yet again. But I made myself close my eyes and stay there.
So, as I turned the corner to the kitchen in the morning, surprise stopped me in the doorway. Even dead drunk the night before, Kellan still woke before me. But unlike every other morning since I had moved in, for the first time ever that I had seen in fact - Kellan looked like crap.
He had thrown his t-shirt from last night back on, but was still in his boxers. His hair, while still messy and fabulous, seemed to accentuate how tired his face looked, highlighted the deep circles under his eyes and his shockingly pale skin. He was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over, with his head held in his hands. He was breathing very slowly and carefully through his mouth.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
He grimaced in pain and looked up at me. “Yes,” he whispered back.
He looked anything but.
“Coffee?” I barely breathed the word, to spare him a little pain.
He cringed anyway, but nodded his head. I went over to make a pot, looking at him curiously. Having just been through what he felt now, I did empathize with him, although it was his own fault for getting that ripping drunk. I tried to make as little noise as possible, but every clink, every bump, even the water running, made him wince a little. He must really be in pain.
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I couldn’t help but wonder who, or what, had driven him to such excess. Where had he been all day yesterday while I was suffering? I tried to run through our limited conversation last night, but he hadn’t said more than a couple sentences, so I wasn’t getting any clues about what he had been out doing. One comment he
had
made, did stand out however.
Without thinking, I blurted it out at regular volume. “How did you know Denny was back?” His head sank to the table in a groan and I guiltily covered my mouth with my hand.
“Saw his coat,” he mumbled.
I blinked, surprised. He hadn’t seemed aware of anything last night, let alone something as small and insignificant as a jacket on the chair.
“Oh.” Not knowing what else to say about that, and worried about his suddenly paler color, I asked him again, “Are you sure you’re okay?” Irritation flared in his eyes as he glanced up at me. “I’m fine,” he stated coldly.
Confused, I finished making the coffee and waited at the counter while it brewed. Once it was done, I grabbed two mugs from the cupboard.
Suddenly he broke the quietness. “Are you…okay?” he asked slowly.
I looked over at him. He had an odd look on his face as he watched me. Hoping he felt a little better, I smiled at him reassuringly. “Yes, I’m great.”
A wave of nausea seemed to pass over him. He laid his arms down on the table and buried his head in them. His breathing was forced, like he was trying very hard again to keep it even. I started pouring our cups of coffee, hoping that would somehow help him.
“Put a little Jack in that.” He turned slightly towards me, so I could understand him. I smirked back at him. He wasn’t serious, was he? He raised his head to look at me, no humor in his eyes. “Please.”
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I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. “Whatever.” I scrounged as quietly as I could above the fridge for a bottle of Jack Daniels. I set the bottle on the table in front of him. Kellan didn’t move his head from his arms. Making my cream and sugar coffee, I left one black and set it quietly in front of him. He still didn’t move. I poured just a smidge of Jack in, and then attempted to close the bottle.
Kellan coughed at me, and motioned with his fingers to pour more, his head still resting on his arms. I sighed and let an obscenely large amount go into his mug. He lifted his head a tiny bit and glanced at me. “Thank you.”
I put the bottle away and joined him at the table. He took a rather long sip of his coffee, inhaling through his teeth a little bit afterwards. It was probably a little strong. I hoped, at the very least, it would help his head.
I sipped my coffee in silence, not knowing what to say to this man, that such a short time ago, I had been so intimate with. I had a million questions, most revolving around whether or not I had meant anything to him…and whether our relationship was intact…and where the heck did he go yesterday? I finally decided that there was only one pressing issue that I needed to discuss with him now, while Denny was still upstairs.
“Kellan…” I really did not want to have this conversation, “the other night…” He watched me over his coffee. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking and he said nothing.
I cleared my throat. “I just don’t want a…misunderstanding,” I finished quietly. I didn’t really know what I meant by that. I didn’t know how I felt about this man, who had been nothing but sweet to me while Denny was away. I couldn’t ponder it though…not with Denny back. I just didn’t want our friendship to change. He was…important to me.
He took a long draw on his coffee again before responding.
“Kiera…there are no misunderstandings between us.” His voice was cold and flat, it gave me chills. My stomach clenched as I wondered if it was too late, if our friendship was already too changed.
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We sat in silence and finished the rest of our coffees. I poured another black one for Kellan and watched, relieved, when he drank it without alcohol. A little while later, Denny came down, saying hello to Kellan and looking at him quizzically, since he really did look awful.
“You okay, mate?” he asked politely, while slipping an arm around my shoulder as I sat at the table. I tensed, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with Denny and Kellan in the same room.