Paint Me, Professor | Student-Professor Erotic Novel | 18+ | ✔️

85 - Little Brother

Alison
***

Kent closed the front door of Chris' apartment softly as he left, the clinking of the latch the only sound that echoed inside those four walls. I didn't dare move a muscle, my arms still wrapped around Chris' neck tightly. I still couldn't believe what had happened, that there was a chance that I would have never hugged him again.

The emotions going through me were intense, but I still managed to get a grip. From receiving the news that Chris was dangerously close to overdosing to Kent finding out about our secret relationship, being in New York actually became a blessing in disguise. Being away forced me to stay put, to not run to the hospital, to not make a scene. The physical impossibility of being with Chris forced me to think, to process his overdose, to process the fact that Kent knew about us. It gave me time to build my emotional strength back up. God knew I needed it more than ever.

However, being away increased my guilt by tenfold. I had a feeling deep down that my very emotional and impulsive decision to leave him in order to protect myself was harsh and selfish. I should had stayed to talk it through, I should have done better, I should have seen the pain in his eyes. My therapist told me my reaction was due to my trauma though, that if I hadn't grown so protective of my heart I would have reacted differently and not run away. That explanation helped me accept my mistake, but it didn't make it easier. Everything was so fucked up.

The time would come for us to come clean about everything: about our fight, about Chris' secret, about our six month relationship, about the reason for his overdose, but today that didn't matter. Kent and I both knew Chris' health came above everything else. Until he recovered he needed support, not face more problems. In that sense, it felt as if all three of us were in survival mode, putting aside all that wasn't important and focusing only on survival.

That was exactly how I felt as I held Chris. I had no ill feelings towards him, no repulsion, no fear. We'd have all the time in the world to talk about what he did to me once he was stable. He needed me to be in control of my feelings, to be strong for him. His overdose was such a desperate cry for help that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I let my pride speak louder than my love for him.

Once the initial shock of holding each other dwindled and our crying burst came to a stop, neither of us pulled away. We melted deeper and deeper into each other, our chests fusing into one as we held each other tightly. I was so worried about him that finally seeing him, feeling his heart beat next to mine and feeling his warm skin was such a relief.

I placed my hand at the nape of his neck, his face still hidden in the crook of my neck. "Kent isn't here anymore, it's just the two of us now. You can tell me everything that's going through your mind. You're safe with me."

I could feel his hot breath on my neck before he parted his lips to speak.

"I don't want to talk about anything," he whispered. "I just want the pain to stop."

I turned towards him and kissed his head. I swayed him softly in my arms, the heartbreak in his voice giving me a glimpse into his weak mental state.

"It will stop," I comforted him. "I promise it will."

He sniffed, making my skin ticklish. "It won't."

He said this like it was the absolute truth, like there was no hope, like he was utterly defeated. Was it possible to become this depressed in a week, or had he been feeling this way for longer? I had a feeling it was the latter.