When Hands Touch

28. breathe

warning: mentions of abuse.

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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

BREATHE

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I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing.

Drumming his fingers against the dining table, Xen's eyes travelled around the room, taking in the walls which were covered with Milo's artwork, picture after picture framed and displayed on them.

Milo was so fucking talented, it was unreal.

The whole situation was too fucked up for Xen to handle, to be honest. He was in Milo's house. He had spent the whole night in Milo's house.

And while he couldn't exactly remember what went down last night, he could remember crying like a fucking baby in front of Milo, throwing up in front of everyone, telling Faiza that he didn't know if he wanted to live the life he was living anymore.

Yeah, those things were ingrained in his mind.

Xen took in a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds as he tried to calm his thoughts, slow them down a little.

Fuck, his body hurt like a bitch.

"Okay, Xen," Milo's dad called out, pulling him out of his thoughts. He took a seat opposite him, placing his hands on the table, lacing his fingers together. "We're going to the cops."

Almost at once, Xen felt his heartbeat pick up, the familiar thrum of it beating against his chest getting faster and faster. No. All he managed to say was, "I really fucking hate the cops."

Letting out a laugh at that, Milo's dad picked up his mug from the table. He was a good person, Xen noticed. A really good person. He could definitely see where Milo got it from.

"So do I, but Xen, your parents need to face some sort of punishment for what they did. They need to be in jail," he stressed, fingers tightening around his coffee mug. Who drinks coffee at eight in the morning?

Frankly, Xen was just tired. He was really fucking tired, and overwhelmed, and sick of feeling like nothing was normal. Like he wasn't normal.

Milo made things feel slightly more normal. So did the rest of them; Jude, Evangeline. Faiza, Ray. But Milo didn't just make things feel normal, he made them feel quiet.

God knows, he needed some quiet.

"I don't want to go to the police." Please.

Milo's dad sighed, and Xen felt his soul crumble a little. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Fuck. "Xen, I understand that. But don't you want to do something? Maybe a restraining order, so that you feel safer?"

"I don't— I'm sorry. I just—" It was as if he had suddenly forgotten how to put words together to form a sentence that wasn't I'm sorry. "My parents won't give a fuck. They've wanted me out for years, they've even kicked me out a few times. I mean... They got what they wanted. I'm out of their way. And— I'm not going back, so they won't do anything to me," Xen mumbled, and then, cursed himself in his head for mumbling immediately after.

Stop mumbling. Speak up.

Maybe he should have slept some more, instead of having a whole ass anxiety attack the previous night, one that he could still feel the effects of. Because right now, he could barely process his own words, and he definitely didn't want to slip up and say something that he wasn't supposed to. Or worse, somehow end up outing Milo.