Deliciously Destroyed | 18+

11. Dressing

I'm home alone, pacing.

Why did Ada need Seb? Did something go wrong? And why didn't she call me? Because I'd freak out?

I'm not freaking out. Just worrying.

I bite my  nails as I walk around the couch again, waiting until they get home. Why does it take this fucking long?

I mean, it's a five minute walk. They could have been here like fifteen minutes ago. 

My phone vibrates, and I immediately take it out, hoping for some news. Thank God it's Aiden.

Aiden: Get the guestroom ready. & maybe some extra hoodies of yours.

I frown, not understanding. Aaron's coming here?

My eyes widen. Fuck, the house is a mess! 

I quickly throw every empty can away before I run upstairs to get the bed ready. It's small work, so I'm done in a few minutes.

Then, finally, the front door opens, and I run downstairs again. Ada comes in first, then Aiden with a bag, then Seb, . . . 

And there's Aaron, rubbing his eyes and looking exhausted. His whole body is slumped, but he manages to look alerted, even now.

While I get closer, I start seeing red spots on his necks. I stop my steps, stiffen. What the hell did he go through?

I glance at Ada, but she gives me a warning look. So I don't comment on it and just smile friendly at the small boy. He gives me an attempt of a smile back.

"Hey, Aaron. Are you tired?" I ask. His eyes widen and he shakes his head. "Oh, n-no, I'm fine. Don't bother looking after me, I'm fine with the couch. If-if that's okay, of course," he adds when he notices four people scowling at me. 

I see his hoodie has been tore apart, explaining why I had to get a new one. That's not a problem, I have like six others. 

"Why don't you shower first? Then we'll discuss where you can sleep tonight," I gently smile. I can tell too much attention bothers him, just like too much being cared after. 

That's okay. One thing at a time. 

While I lead him the way to my room, I nod at Aiden. "Guest room's ready," I whisper, so Aaron doesn't hear it. He gets the hint and nods, leaving to place Aaron's bag in his room.

I don't think Aaron would like it if we unpacked his things. He seems very closed and very private. On the other hand, I wouldn't like it either.

"First, I have some other clothes so you can change," I tell him and take him upstairs, to my room. He nods, gripping the hem of his shirt very tightly. 

"I'm sorry about the hoodie," he then whispers, a blush rising to his cheeks as he looks down. The blush is so cute, I want to squeeze his little cheeks. 

"That's okay," I softly laugh. "I think—but correct me if I'm wrong—you couldn't help it either, right?" He nods, not lifting his eyes from his shoes.

I smirk. Is he always this flustered, or am I just that good looking?

"Oh, by the way, they came from Foot Locker," I tell him. He flinches violently, his cute blush turning into crimson red. It's rather concerning now.

I was just answering his question from earlier today? It seemed like a good, casual start to talk. but Aaron seems almost . . . upset.

"I-I'm sorry, that was a stupid question. I-I was just—I'm sorry, I didn't want to cross a line or anything and I know it's no excuse but the clouds came back and-and—" I squeeze his arm, trying to get him back.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." I bend a little to be able to look in his eyes, but he's closed them and is taking shaky breaths. "I was just answering your question, because my answer earlier today sucked."

When he doesn't respond, I bite my lip and look around in the hall. "Come on," I nudge him and drag him along to my walk-in closet.

Thankfully, something around the room calms him down. His breathing slows down and his shoulders relax. 

I have no idea what it is. Maybe it's the way my clothes are organized  by color, or the dim lights, or that it's all plain black and white and no flashing colors.

He takes in the room slowly, calmly. I give him a new hoodie, to which he flushes and mumbles a thanks. 

Cute.

"Can I get you anything else?" I ask him, thinking. His eyes glance at me in a panic, then he shakes his head. "N-no, thank you, the hoodie is more than enough."

My brows knit together in a frown, but I don't comment on it. He's exhausted, anyone can see that, and I believe uncomfortable too.

"So, Aiden has brought your bag to your room," I tell him, walking out of my closet. He quickly follows, so I switch off the lights. "There's a bathroom attached to it, so I don't think you'll need the main bathroom."

He gives a little shrug, never meeting my eyes. That's okay, tomorrow is a new day. I bet he's craving sleep and comfort right now.

I show him his room, tell him how the lights switch off and that he's allowed to use everything here. His eyes scan the room fully, before he completely relaxes.

"Okay." He nods. "Thank you so much for all of this. I'll try to not bother you any more than staying here," he adds, whispering.

I sit down on the chair in his room. "You're not bothering. The only bothering thing to me is not knowing what happened, but I'm actually glad you're here. Those two jerks are the absolute worst."

He flinches, but nods. "Yeah. They are," he then agrees, his soft voice sounding small. I'd love to hear that voice happy and talking all night, but he's tired.

But before I leave, I want to tell him one more thing. "You know where my room is, yes?" He nods again. "If something's wrong, and I mean anything, you come to me, okay? No bullshit about being a burden, because you're not."

He averts his gaze again. Doesn't say anything. I drag a hand over my face in silent suffering. Stansley's sons really fucked him up.

"Look," I sigh, making him wince even more. "Just know that if I found out tomorrow something happened because you didn't wake me, I'll be pissed. You don't want to see me pissed."

With wide eyes, he looks up at me. "But—" My warning scowl stops him from protesting. 

"Let me ask you something," I tell him. He gives a tiny nod, clutching to the hoodie in his hands. "You hear a weird sound at, let's say 2 am, what do you do?" I cock an eyebrow.

The knuckles around the hoodie go white. Fuck. 

"I'm, ah, ignore them?" he whispers, clearly stressing over the answer. I suppress my groan. "No. You go knock on my door, wake me, and I'll go check. Another question."

At this point, he could tear another hoodie apart. So I gently take it from his hands and lay it on the bed. He sighs.

"Someone is throwing small rocks to your window. When you look down, it's Ezra and Silas. What do you do?"

Okay, maybe his knuckles weren't white. His face is now, though.

"Go search you?" he whispers, eyes wide. I smile. "There you go. Alright, now go shower and sleep. And, please, don't worry about the Ezra-and-Silas-scenario, because they don't know where we live or where you are."

He frowns for a second before nodding. "Right. Thank you."

I give him a wink before leaving his room. Going downstairs, I plan on figuring out every little detail.