and then you left // cth

chapter 9: occupied

luke

"That was amazing," Alexis tells me, a new tone to her voice. She looks genuinely impressed. "Who's it by?"

I grin and glance at Mike, who's smiling at us. Calum wrote that song a while ago. He told us it was about a mistake he made, but he was careful to never be too specific. After mentioning it, he'd clam up and change the subject. I never pushed it, knowing that the topic must have been touchy and serious.

When Calum first came to live with us, he was in a bad place. He barely talked, or did much of anything. And wouldn't eat enough for a seventeen year old, six foot guy. He lost a lot of weight, and stayed in his room all day. He wasn't the same person. He was depressed, to say the least. But I didn't, and still to this day, don't know what about.

One time, it was maybe four in the morning, and I got up and walked to his room. I had to ask him something about God knows what.

I was just about to open the door, when I heard something behind the door. It sounded like a squeak or something, and I had no clue what was going on. I stood there for a moment not knowing what the sound was, before I realized.

He was crying.

And not the somewhat manly, few tears down the cheek sort of thing you would expect from a guy like Cal. He sounded like he was the saddest human being alive, sobbing. I didn't want to believe that my best friend had a reason to be like this. That was the moment when I realized.

He was in pain. The horrible kind, as if there are versions of pain that aren't so terrible.

In all the five years we'd been best friends, he'd never cried in front of me. He was pretty tough. That's why I never asked him about it. Call me a bad friend, but to be honest, I don't think I wanted to know what had broke him.

Sometime's we'd just be watching a movie or listening to music or something normal like that, and he'd just get this look on his face that resembled sadness, and just get up and leave. He's never offer an explanation, or ask for help, which was the worst part.

And sometimes, when I guess it was too much for him, he'd take off. I'd go to his room in the morning to get him up for breakfast, and find an empty bed and a note. These times were in his darkest days. I don't know where he would go during these times, but this happened maybe five times in the few months he lived with us.

Sometime's he wouldn't return for days.

. . .

"That song," I finally respond to Alexis's question. "was written by the bassist of our band." Her eyes widen before she speaks.

"Really? It was so good!" She squeals. I laugh at her reaction, noticing how her eyes light up. She seems to be much happier now, like she's actually enjoying herself. Yesterday she seemed sad and lost, and I'd wondered what was wrong. It was as if her body was there, but her mind was on an entirely different planet, or no where at all.

I wonder what her story is.

"Alright, should we start?" Ash asks loudly to catch my attention as he takes a seat at his drum stool, twirling a drumstick with his fingers. I then realize I was staring at the girl sitting next to me, who seems to still be in awe.