Losing Grip

Chapter 25➷ Oh, Trust Me, He Drove Me Insane

Matthew all but dropped Avan on the couch and looked up at me with what he seemed to believe was a sheepish smile.

"He's drunk," he explained, glancing at Avan's contorted and unconscious body. "I'm sorry for bringing him here. Is your Dad home?"

I shook my head. Matthew tried his best to appear nonchalant, but he clearly didn't know how to act around me anymore. We hadn't talked since I met Marveen.

He wore his usual dazzling colors, standing out among the pale furniture of the living room.

But this time, his outfit meant something different to me. I no longer perceived the colors as his efforts to attract eyes to himself, but his best attempt at deflecting our attention. I knew what he wanted to conceal with his long sleeves.

I couldn't pretend that I didn't know. Normal had been tossed out of the window and we would have to figure out how to navigate this untested and shaky territory.

In his eyes, I read an uncertainty I was all too familiar with that asked how we were to act now that the parts we tried so hard to keep hidden were now exposed. Along with it came the panic of holding an important piece of each other that we were too afraid we were unworthy to control.

He cleared his throat, visibly conscious that I had been staring at him, but he did not comment on it.

"So, what should we do with him?" he asked, attempting to shift my attention to Avan's form on the couch.

"I don't know. He hasn't moved since you brought him in."

I glanced toward Avan. His hair veiled part of his face, out of control. Where did he even get alcohol?

Matthew lightly poked Avan's head but he didn't budge. "I don't think that's a good sign," he said.

"You should get him to his aunt," I told him, leaning over the couch to observe Avan's face.

Though he seemed to be fast asleep, Avan looked anything but peaceful. Pearls of sweat smeared his forehead and a frown highlighted his tortured face.

Whatever torment he was experiencing inside seeped past his walls into plain sight. My hand longed to rest on his shoulder and appease him but I held it back.

I still wondered why he put himself in this state, even though a part of me knew exactly why.

Acknowledging that she was gone was only a step in the process of recovering from the loss I felt, and above it a long flight of broken and daunting stairs awaited. A never-ending, merciless path to a hazy destination.

Drinking ourselves into forgetting only sent us tumbling back down the stairs and slowed down progress. Yet, it was still tempting to choose temporary relief and I couldn't blame him for it.

I looked up when I realized that Matthew hadn't moved. I couldn't decipher his expression as he quietly watched his friend's affliction.

"Is everything okay?" I asked and he instantly nodded to humor me.

"The smell of alcohol bothers me," he explained, scrunching up his nose.

He added a chuckle to lighten up the mood, but I understood all the implied connotations hidden in his sentence.

"Right, of course. I'll come with you." I pulled on Avan's arms with all the gentleness I could muster while wondering if Matthew was disappointed in him for drinking when he probably knew about Matthew's family.

I wrapped his limp arm around my neck and held onto it to support him. Avan's feet trailed on the floor as Matthew and I walked across the living room.