The Art of Being a F*ck Up

11. Me vs. Everyone

They say time is supposed to heal all wounds, but I call bullshit, because it's been weeks and I haven't seen much of an improvement in Jonah since we got back from his mom's funeral. I'm trying to make the best of it, and I do love getting to spend all this extra time with him, but he's still been creeping up to my room every night to stay with me. We don't do anything fun, I'll just hold him and he'll curl up and go to sleep. Then, when I wake up, I usually find him right on top of me, like he can't get close enough or something—not that I mind that either. Today is no different, my alarm goes off and I swat my phone until it goes quiet, hoping that it hasn't woken him.

Not yet, anyway. I know I have to start my day but I can't bring myself to move, not when I find him sleeping comfortably on my chest just as I suspected I would. He looks more at peace than he has in a while, the morning sun trickling in through dusty blinds to settle around him. Once upon a time he used to think he was average, though I'll never know how, because I've only ever saw this—his smooth skin and nearly perfect features, even the way his messy hair has a bad habit of constantly falling in his face. He's always been so goddamn perfect to me, and I wish I knew what more I could do to reignite the fire that burned so brightly in him.

All I can do now is try, the same as how I worm my way out from under him so gradually that he couldn't possibly notice. I've done everything I can think to do, I sit through the constant marathons of his favorite musicals—which is torture—but each smile it forces out of him is worth it. I give him all the massages he could ever want, and text him cute little messages throughout every day. I do whatever I can to bring him back to life, while making sure he's as distanced from my shit as possible. He doesn't need that negativity right now.

After all, I know better than anybody what it's like to be stuck in this half-life, to continuously feel like you're asleep, and I don't want that for him. It may be too late for me, something I'm reminded of while I slide on my hideous knee brace before getting dressed, but I'll be damned if I let it happen to Jonah too. No matter what else becomes of me I have to save him, whatever it takes, and I sneak back over to the bed to kiss his cheek softly one last time. I love him so much. After that I head to the bathroom, and then down the stairs, hoping to leave a bit early.

"So you're not even going to say good morning? Ouch." Devin calls when I get to the door. He sits over on the couch, obviously putting off going to class as he bites into his apple. "What's up, dude? You look like hell."

"Do I? I'm so glad you pointed it out, I totally didn't notice, you dick. I was up late again," I engage him sarcastically. He's so quiet that I wouldn't have even noticed him, but then, most of the guys have been, I've really appreciated how supportive they're being of Jonah crashing here. If his mom hadn't died, I'm not sure Devin would've shown such mercy to either of us so soon after the whole double date thing, but he's only been supportive since we got back. I wait until he rolls his eyes to answer more seriously, "I didn't get much sleep anyway because, you know."

"Yeah I definitely know, it's kind of creepy actually. Usually I can hear you guys through the wall but it's been super quiet lately."

"Show some respect, Devin."

"Calm your tits, I'm just trying to lighten the mood. Which is more than I can say for you, I mean fuck, maybe if you actually forced Jonah to go out and get some fresh air he would cheer up a little." Devin appears to have an opinion on the matter, same as everyone else.

"All he needs is space." There's no right way to grieve, but if anybody knows what's best for Jonah, it's me. "Losing somebody like it, it's messed up, man."

"You don't think I know that? I actually called my mom yesterday for the first time in over a month, and she started freaking out because she thought something was wrong. I guess I don't check up on her enough." My dimwitted best friend is unusually somber. "We've all lost people, and it sucks, it does, but it seems like maybe you're focusing too much on his shit and not yours."