Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC

28: My Head and My Heart Are Beating the Shit Out of Me

I don't bother closing the door to my room behind Farleigh - we won't be here much longer anyway.

As soon as we're past the threshold of the door, he stumbles, collapsing onto the bed. He's gasping, crying and shaking at the same time as he drops his head into his hands. I want to comfort him - but the urge to get out of this place as fast as possible is stronger. I need to leave.

I pull my suitcase from under the bed, and crack it open, tossing it into the center of the room. On autopilot, I start ripping into the drawers, going through the motions of folding everything as small as possible and shoving it all into my suitcase. After studying abroad, it's second nature to pack - something I don't really have to think about.

The image of Felix's dead body forces itself to the forefront of my mind.

I blink - long and hard - and force it away, focusing instead on the hardwood under my knees, the dusty smell of the room, the sound of Farleigh quietly sobbing on the bed.

"Farleigh." I say, my voice wavering.

"Eves." He responds, but doesn't lift his head out of his hands.

"We have to go." I say, trying to be as gentle as I can. Despite my efforts, the frantic urgency still seeps into my voice. "You should go pack."

His crying increases. "I can't- I can't go home."

I stop packing, turning to look at him. "What?"

"I don't-" He chokes. "I can't- where do I go?" He looks up at me. "My mom- she's going to be evicted this month," He hiccups. "She'll be living on the street-"

"What about your dad?" I ask.

Farleigh shakes his head. "I haven't spoken to him in like," He hiccups again. "Eight years. I don't know where to find him-"

"Okay." I cut him off, my mind racing. "Okay. You can just come to Brooklyn with me. I have an apartment, you can stay with me."

He hiccups again, running a hand underneath his eyes, wiping the tears. "No, I can't-"

"Farleigh." I almost snap at him. "You can't stay here."

The anger in my voice jolts him to his feet. "Right." He says. "Um. I'll go pack." He makes his way to the door, but he lingers, turning to look back at me. His eyes are puffy, and tear tracks run down his face. "You're sure..?"

I nod. "I'm sure. Go pack."

He nods, still a little unsure, but disappears down the hall, back towards his room.

I go back to packing, methodically opening drawers, emptying them, and folding them into my suitcase. I'm not even really look at what I'm putting in my bag, my mind too busy trying to make sense of everything that's happened in the past thirty six hours. My head is pounding from the alcohol and the coke, my legs are sore from the sex, and my stomach churns from the horrificness of it all. It feels like someone switched the genre of the story - from a summer beach read to a psychological horror.

The first dead body I've ever seen belongs to my best friend's brother. There was still glitter on my face when my world fundamentally shifted forever.

The chest of drawers empty, I stand up, ignoring the protest from my knees, and move to the wardrobe, repeating the process. The hangers bang against the wood of the cabinet as I strip sundresses and tank tops from them, the garments falling in a pile on top of my suitcase. I'll do the bathroom next...

The sound of the door creaking open breaks through my stupor, and I turn to find Venetia standing there, her eyes locked on the suitcase in the middle of the floor. She sways on her feet, obviously wasted beyond belief.

"V?"

Her eyes slowly find mine. "What are you doing?"

I look down at the suitcase, and then back up at her. "Packing."

"Why?"

I want to laugh and scream at the same time. These fucking people- "Because your brother just died, V. I'm not just going to keep vacationing."

Something in her expression shifts. "You're leaving me?"

On instinct I say, "No-", but really, I am. I can't stay here though, not when someone's just died. I can't grieve for him like the rest of the family will - though if lunch is anything to go by, I doubt there will be much grieving at all. Either way, the way James was shouting earlier makes it abundantly clear that I need to leave.

Venetia's voice is full of contempt. "You are. You're leaving me."

"I can't stay." I say, turning from the wardrobe to walk over to the door. "I can't. Your brother is-"

"What about me?" She says. "What am I supposed to do? You'd leave me here, alone, without Felix or you?"

"I can't stay." I repeat. "Farleigh-"

"You promised." She interrupts me, jamming a pointing finger into my chest. "You promised that you would never like him more than me, and look at you now! Leaving me just because Dad told him to get out."

"That's not why I'm fucking leaving." Her anger seeps through the tip of her finger and right into my heart, infecting me. "Felix is dead!" I almost shout it. "Summer is over! I can't just keep vacationing and pretending everything is fine like you psychopaths!"

She retracts back from me in shock, taking a step back into the hall. "Don't shout at me."

All the anger fades as quick as it had come on. "I'm not- I'm sorry." I say. "I just can't walk around pretending everything is normal when it's not, I can't-"

"I'm not asking you to." She says. "I just want you to stay."

"I can't-"

"Please." She's almost pleading now. "Don't leave. I can't have you leave too-"

"Venetia." I cut her off. "Your brother is dead. Your parents are grieving. I'm only a guest - I can't stay here. I need to go home."

She retreats further into the hallway, betrayal laid plain on her face. "Fine." She says, defeated. "Go home then."

"V-" I start. A million apologies dance on the tip of my tongue - I should be comforting her right now, not arguing.

But she turns her back on me anyway, slipping down the hall, back towards the stairs. I linger in the door - and for a moment I almost call out to her, beg her to come back - but I don't. I turn back to my room.

I need to finish packing.