Now That You Are Here

Leave Those Fears Behind

Mature Content marked with ***

I can only imagine what his bedroom is going to look like. I knock softly on the door, but I don't hear an answer, so I push it gently open. His candles have been pushed to the floor. Water from his now broken vase is all over the floor as well. 

I peer around the bend to see his closet still kind of intact, but I see that my nicely folded suitcase has been rummaged through. Instead of the strong cinnamon filling the air, my rose perfume floats with a hint of cinnamon mixed between. If I wasn't standing in the middle of a war zone, I might actually like the fact that our scents smell good together.

Then I see Brixton standing to face the window. He's shirtless, only in black sweatpants, Wild Turkey 101 bourbon half empty sitting in his hand. His other elbow is bent, so I know he's holding something in his hand, but I don't know what. Maybe one of my items of clothing. 

I walk towards him, stepping carefully over the floor, not wanting to fall or hurt myself further than my cut hand. I call out to him, but I get no answer. Brixton flinches slightly as I place my hand on the small of his back. When I step in front of him, his eyes widen. He backs away as tears fill his gorgeous brown eyes.

"You don't want to see me like this."

"Brixton. I don't care. You've seen me at my worst, multiple times. It's okay. I am not here to hurt you anymore than I have."

"No, no. I've hurt you more than enough."

"How much have you had to drink today?"

"You shouldn't be here."

"How much have you had to drink today? Tell me right now."

"Half this bottle."

"Would you set it down for me?"

He places it carefully on the floor, still backing away.

"Wait, wait, wait."

Before he stops, his barefoot steps in a pile of broken glass. I run towards him, making him lean against me as I carry him to the bed. I make him sit on the edge, and I gently clean the bottom of his foot, so there is no glass. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Once I'm done, I sit next to him, leaning onto his shoulder.

"I hurt you. Your hand."

"No, I cut myself on glass."

"Yeah, the mugs that I broke."

"You being mad at yourself isn't going to solve this."

"There's nothing to solve. I'm bad for you."

"You shouldn't listen to my parents. They do that a lot. That's how they got me to go to school for a medical degree. They want us to break up, Brixton. That's all they want. They don't want up together because they think you are a distraction."

"But I love you."

"I love you. So much. Please stay with me, okay?"

"I don't want to leave you."

"I don't want to leave you either, so we have to work through this. I need you sober first. You stay right here, I'll get you some water, and you can rest for a little while."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. We'll talk when you aren't intoxicated."

"Will you stay here?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

Brixton gives me a soft forehead kiss before climbing into his sheets. I grab him a glass of water, but he's passed out by the time I get back to his bedroom. I set it down on the bedside table with two Tylenol for the headache he will definitely have when he wakes. I don't really like the other boys, so I tell them that they can go home and that I'll take care of Brixton. Once they leave, I feel comfortable enough to start cleaning up the place.