Existential

Chapter 17

With Tyler next to me I begin walking back to my house. His fingers quiver and his breath fans out in white clouds. The cold seems to be a good disguise for his anxiety because anyone would typically mistake the shaking to be shivering. We continue walking on in silence and I try my best to ignore any and all thoughts going through my head. I don't want to think too much about what could have happened. I believe if I think of it too much I will somehow blame myself for what he was going to do. It would somehow be my fault.

Stop thinking.

I decide this would be no better time to try and make physical contact. This may end up being my one and only chance. So I take his fingers and intertwine mine with his. Tyler gives my hand a squeeze as my warmth passes to his hand. I was much better dressed for this cold. We continue walking down the sidewalk and to anyone else we would look like a stupid teen couple out late. Maybe coming back from the diner and finally heading home or just wanted to wander outside. Or one could assume we just met a drug dealer under the bridge and were going home to smoke. Adults would most likely assume the latter.

No one else would know the boy could've been dead and the girl would have drowned herself in alcohol upon hearing the news. Or could have very literally drowned herself in the very water that took that boy's life. I can only be happy that my phone wasn't on silent tonight and that I didn't sleep too deeply tonight. I can only be happy I knew of the closest bridge. I can only be happy Tyler was patient enough to stay on the phone as long as he did. I can only be happy I was there to help him. I can't really ask for much more.

Tyler keeps his eyes either fixed to the sky or the ground below us. Maybe he's trying to decide if he would have gone to heaven or hell had he followed through. That must be a heavy question on him. That's always a positive to not being religious, I won't have to worry about a subject like that. Heaven and Hell are weird concepts. They're both prisons if you think about it hard enough.

Eventually we reach our street but I don't separate from Tyler so he can return home. I don't even allow him to let go of my hand. I guide us to my house and open the door that I, of course, left unlocked. We walk in and I turn the light on. I finally let go of Tyler's hand and tell him to wait for me in the kitchen. He walks away and I let out a shaky breath once he is gone.

Tyler could have died tonight. Tyler could have jumped off that bridge. His body could have plunged into the icy water. Would he feel how cold the water is? Would he know how stupid he was being? Would he have regretted it right when his body hit the liquid? Would he even think about it?

I shake my head as if that will rid myself of those thoughts and trace Tyler's steps into my kitchen. He sits at the stools in front of the granite island and the overhead light is turned on. The light exposes the tiredness under his eyes and the scabbing along the inside of his lips. His brunette hair is twisted and his clothes cling desperately to his shivering body. His hands still shake and now I really can't tell if it's anxiety or the cold that wants to invade his body so desperately.

I grab a thick blanket from my living room before approaching the helpless boy in my kitchen. My boots tap against the hard tiles with every step and is the only sound in the whole house. I give him a small smile before I bring the blanket up. I wrap the material around him and before I can step back Tyler pulls me into the material as well. His arms wrap around my small body and I try my best to wrap my arms around his torso from under the heavy blanket. Tyler's head rests in the curve of my neck and his arms desperately hold onto my sides. We stay like this for a few minutes until Tyler lets go of me and I successfully step back. His eyes train on my every movement and I feel like he could see every flaw to my appearance. Stress and sleep deprivation can really wreck your face.