Stay With Me (Come Back to Me #2)

Chapter 19

Justin

I come downstairs just as Chris is closing the front door. In nothing but sweatpants, the rush of cold air stings my damp skin. After barely being able to move without upchucking, being clean feels good.

"Who was at the door?" I ask, rubbing the towel against my wet hair.

Chris nods to the large pile of papers in his hands. "Some girl wanted to give these to you."

I almost drop the towel. There's only one girl - one person that would gather my homework for me. I clear my throat. "What did she look like?"

He shrugs. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, tall. Typical."

I snort. Addie is anything but typical. "And you didn't think to tell me that Addie was here?"

Chris rolls his eyes, causing my gears to grind. I'm starting to get pissed with his behaviour. He looks at the papers. "It's just homework."

Walking over to him, I snatch the papers. "And you're just my brother," I mimic.

Yeah, it's a low comment and I can see the look of hurt on his face, but Chris doesn't understand what it's like to have loneliness be your friend for years. It's like oxygen - always there. A loyal companion.

"I thought you were still asleep."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, because I didn't come downstairs to grab a towel from the closet."

"Boys," Mom calls from the kitchen. "Knock it off."

With one last sneer, Chris and I part ways, him heading to the kitchen, probably to act like a total suck-up with Mom, and I go back upstairs to sort out the mountain of homework.

Fuck, I wish I could have seen Addie; talked to her. She's sent me so many text messages asking how I'm doing and I haven't replied. Mainly because I've just been too tired and frustrated. I'm sick and tired of meds beating my body like they do.

Seeing Addie would have made my day ten times better.

As I sort through the pile of homework, I notice that Addie has photocopied her notes for me. I can tell it's her writing because some of the letters are slightly smudged from being left-handed. I smile stupidly to myself. Of course she'd do something like this.

Setting down the papers on my nightstand, I head for the bathroom. As I finish cleaning up - AKA making myself look like I've been taking care of myself rather than spending my day sprawled across the tile - I think about the tenseness between Chris and I.

It wasn't like that before. We were close. Loved each other like siblings are supposed to. I don't know when the conflict started, but I do know it had everything to do with our parents' divorce, the incident that happened after, and then him having to go back and forth and me having the choice to stay with Mom.

I know he resents me for that; for having a semi-stable life while his continuously gets uprooted.

So I guess I can understand a piece of why we don't get along. I'd be jealous if the roles were switched. I can't imagine what it's like to go back and forth on a regular basis.

Also, deep down, I know that I treat Chris terrible sometimes. Him not being able to comprehend what I go through having epilepsy frustrates me, so sometimes I act out and treat him the way a plastic bag in the wind is treated.

That aside, there are times I try to talk to him about what's happened and he simply shuts me down.

It's terrible what this disaster I have the deceptive privilege to call my life has thrown on my brother and I. I wish we could go back to playing the beaten Nintendo GameCube my mom has had since she was a kid and arguing over who gets which character. Or go back to baking cookies with grandma and getting to defy the rules and eat as much cookie dough as we wanted.

But the thing is, we can't.

Life is what it is whether you like it or not. You just have to be strong enough to adapt.

And I know I am.

It's just difficult when you feel like you're stuck in the middle of an ever-present storm that keeps closing in, suffocating and pelting you with everything it has.

It's difficult when all you want is for the sun to shine and you get nothing but rain.