Tents | calum hood

2.9

I looked at the clock. 2 AM. Jesus Christ, it was late.

Calum and I were being honest with each other, telling each other every secret we had, asking questions rapidly. We were hurting as we spoke, but we trusted each other enough.

"So you keep saying you haven't dated anyone for a while. Why not?" Calum asked me, reaching out to my hand, touching my fingers.

"You sure you're ready for this?" I asked him, although I was kind of wondering if I was ready for it.

You can do this.

"I'm sure," he assured me.

Gulp.

"My last boyfriend... died."

"How?"

"Well, I'll just explain it. Okay. I was sixteen and I swore I was in love. His name was Marc. He was seventeen and he had his license. We were both into the same shit, you know... drugs, bands, music, alcohol, everything. He was a perfect match. My mother loved him despite my father's disapproval. My brother even liked him, hell, they were nearly friends. Then his mom got cancer and his best friend got shot and we started fighting more. He hit me sometimes, yeah, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. I could handle him. But he was getting bad, emotionally... depressed." I paused in order to keep myself from breaking down. Almost two years later and I was still crying over Marc. "His mother died, three months after she was diagnosed. That's when Marc broke. He hit me more, he shot up more, he smoked more, he went to every party he found and got black out drunk. He got another girl pregnant once, too. She aborted it, thankfully, and I forgave him. He told me once that he had dreams about his friend and his mother every single night.

"One day he showed up at my house and demanded I get into his truck with him. He seemed drunk and I swore he smelt like beer, but his words weren't slurred so I got in. He drove me to his favorite spot, this little cliff that overlooked some fields and a pond. We sat on the edge and he broke up with me. He told me he was getting bad and he hated himself for how he treated me. He told me he needed to be alone for a long time and that he needed to figure out a way to escape everything he was feeling. I told him I would stay and help him, I would do whatever. He told me no."

"How did he die?" Calum asked quietly.

"A week later he overdosed on heroin at the cliff. He collapsed and fell..." I stopped and held in sobs.

"Come here, baby." Calum pulled me into his arms and held me tight, rubbing circles on my back. I cried into his bare shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay."

"I'm sorry. I just, yeah..." I apologized and pulled myself off of him, wiping my tears off of his skin. He didn't smile at me, he just looked at me in thought. "He was my everything and he's dead. But, I guess you understand."

Why isn't he talking?

"Okay. I was gonna save it for your birthday, but I think tonight would be better..." Calum began.

"What?" I questioned.

"Put some shoes on and grab a sweatshirt," he directed. He crawled past me and off the bed to his dufflebag. I felt like I was watching The Breakfast Club scene where Bender takes out a bag from his locker that has, like, eight other smaller bags into it. The last bag in Calum's bag held the same thing, too... weed.

"Do you have paper?" I asked, getting excited.

"Did we or did we not go to the library today?" Calum smiled. He looked through his books and chose the one that seemed the least interesting and put it into his sweatshirt's pocket. "Ready?"