“Yeah, I just have something on my mind.”
"Do you want to talk about it?"
His eyes never moved from the TV. After a moment, I gave up. “Okay, I'm just going to go take a shower,” I replied. Frustration latched onto my bones, making them feel tight and ready to burst.
It was obvious he had something on his mind, but being that I’d just gone through my own personal nightmare without pushing him away, I felt infuriated. Did he think my problems were insignificant compared to his? Of course, I didn’t know if they were or not, because he wouldn't confide in me. I stomped toward the stairs.
“Hey, Slick.”
I stopped on the first step but refused to turn around and acknowledge him. “I’m sorry I haven’t been who you need me to be, but I'm trying to make it better.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “What does that even mean?” I asked, fed up with him.
“I promise; I'll tell you when I know.”
Confusion pulsed up my spine at his response. I left him alone, afraid I would say something to hurt his feelings if I stayed any longer.
After my doctor’s appointment, my obsession with Kill took a backseat. I told myself not to waste any more time on him. I no longer asked him if he was okay, and even pretended to be asleep when he snuck into my room at night.
Kill's mood swings were almost unbearable. He snapped at everyone whenever they spoke to him. He’d stomp out of the house as soon as he heard the mail truck, checking the mailbox obsessively. I finally decided enough was enough. Nobody could live around Kill and his volatile temper.
After he stormed out of the house to get the mail, I decided to confront him as soon as he walked back in the door. I opened my mouth, ready to give him a lecture on getting his head out of his ass. As soon as I saw him, though, I closed my mouth. His face was pale and clammy, his blue-green eyes wide with fear, his limbs shaking.
“Kill.” I approached him slowly.
He sprinted the couple of steps separating us, pulling me into a fierce hug. I hugged him back, wanting to give him the support he sought, hoping it was enough. The expression on his face scared me.
He ghosted his mouth over mine. “I'll be right back, Slick.” He let me go and ran up to his room, closing the door behind him and taking a big manila envelope with him.
“What the fuck was that about?” Jet asked.
I turned to see the guys coming out of the garage. “I don’t know,” I replied just as confused.
We sat on the couch, and I watched the stairs, waiting for Kill to return. Jessie and Van watched TV and tried to get my mind off his peculiar behavior. Amy and Jet plied me with candy, and D kept shooting me looks I didn’t want to interpret. I had a feeling all my pent-up emotions would surface, and I would slap whatever look he had on his face off if I knew what he was thinking.
Kill finally came downstairs. His face was still pale, but his half smile almost made it to his eyes. “Hey, Slick. Can you come up here?”
He lingered on the bottom stair and waited for me to come toward him. I moved slowly, instinctually knowing that something big was about to happen. Whatever had been on his mind seemed to have finally surfaced. Everyone gave me a look of support, but for what reason, none of us knew.
I followed Kill upstairs sluggishly. My heart beat steadily as it pumped my anxiety-enriched blood through my body. It took all my concentration to move up each stair until we reached my room. Kill led me to the bed and sat down next to me, taking my hand in his. He traced my knuckles with his fingers, avoiding my eyes.
“Kill, what is it?” I asked, unable to take the tension any longer. My lips felt awkward as the question passed over them.
He pulled the envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to me. He motioned for me to open it. It took a few tries for my shaking fingers to pluck the paper out.
I reread the typed print several times, ensuring I was reading what I thought I was. “You went and got checked?” I asked quietly.
Kill nodded and placed the papers back in the envelope. “You were right, that night when Gemma brought me home."
My mind whirled when I tried to recall what I’d screamed at him.
Kill smiled reading my confusion. "You told her my dick was going to fall off. I want you to know that I used a condom every time I was with a girl. I wanted to make sure I was clean for you. When they told me it was going to be two to three weeks for the results, I went insane. I almost passed out when I saw the envelope in the mailbox today." He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a crazed chuckle. "It was my moment of truth. If anything bad had been in there, it would have been my own fault.” His forehead creased with unneeded worry.
“You're clean.”
He smiled in response. “Yeah, I’m clean.”
I stared at him for a long time, taking him in. His beautifully-sculpted face was one that every artist in any medium would die to work with.
