Sleepless (HIATUS)

07. Alan the Asshole

"Just grab my hands," Austin whisper-yelled through the tiny window.

"No!" I whispered back, "I can do it myself!" We stared at each other a moment, my eyes hardened and unyielding, his desperate.

"Alan, seriously, what is your problem? Just let me help you!" He looked vaguely annoyed, frustrated. We'd been at it for ten minutes, starting as soon as the clock struck midnight. I was sick of him fucking acting like I was some damsel in distress, and that I needed his help all the time. Newsflash, Austin, you're not God's gift to the earth. With my dad, and the way I was feeling right now... Jesus. I knew there was no way I'd be in a good mood. But he was my ultimate distraction. Nothing ever caught my attention more.

"Alan," he whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose, "you asked me to come here! Now, just stick your hands out."

"No," I said stubbornly.

"Why not?"

"Because you'll drop me."

"I think we both know that I am strong enough to lift your puny ass."

Sarcastically, I hissed, "I have an idea! How about I trust you with something important and you fuck it up and then run away from your failures!"

There was a silence, just a short one, before he whimpered, like a kicked puppy. All the air in my lungs was sucked away, and I clapped a hand over my mouth, but it didn't do any good. Immediately I realized that I did not mean this. It was too late, though. Austin was already crying.

"Just, fuck, Alan. Just let me help you," he said in a very low voice. The look in his eye, the surging tears, made me hate myself to a degree that I couldn't even begin to describe. Ashamed, I held my hands out the ground window to him, and felt his two strong ones easily lift me. We both tumbled out into the grass, and just sat there. He angrily wiped a tear from his eye, and then laid back in the grass, staring up at the clear night sky. It was cold, crisp, and the stars were brighter than I'd ever seen.

"Austin?" I whispered. He didn't reply, but shrugged his shoulders. "Aus, I-I'm sorry. I only said that because I'm having a bad night." He glared up at the sky, then down at himself, then back up again. For a while, he was silent, until he opened his mouth to speak.

"You wanna know something? There are only a couple different kinds of people out there who tell the truth. I'm not talking half-truths, or even almost-truths. I'm talking about the full, unsullied, Jesus Christ of truths." Austins lips moved at a steady rate, getting faster. His eyes became more hardened as he spoke, subconsciously holding his hand to his chest.

"Drunk people tell the truth. Kids tell the truth. And majorly pissed off people tell the truth. And you, buddy," he laughed humorlessly, "are pissed the fuck off." He fell silent for a moment, before beginning again. I held my breath.

"I know what you think about me. I know you look at me and see a pathetic person. I thought that after we became friends, you'd realize everything I went through," he whispered. "You'd see what I'm willing to sacrifice for you... You would see that I've learned."

"I don't know what to say," I mumbled, watching him closely under the moonlight. He closed his eyes, sighing.

"Is any of this even worth it?" he whispered. "God, it's been such fucking hell. It's been a nightmare. I missed you so much, but you still can't even so much as look me in the eye. I thought there was a second chance out there, you know?" he laughed again, that dry, sad chuckle. His words ripped holes in my chest. The honesty flowing out of his mouth right now scared me. In that moment, all I felt was blame.