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“Hawke, open the goddamn door! Why is the door locked anyway?” Gavin’s irritated voice comes from the other side of the door as he stands in the hall.
“Sorry!” I call out, hurrying to right myself. I run my hands through my hair and put my dad’s glasses back on before going to the door.
The second the lock disengages, Gavin barrels through the door. “What the actual fuck, Hawke? Who are you trying to keep out of here? Me?”
He is pissed.
“No. I don’t know, Gav. I just…” I fumble for an excuse, but he doesn’t wait to listen.
“Fuck you. I knew you left the meeting to do something stupid,” he snarls, spinning around to stab a long finger into my chest. My best friend’s eyes are wide and filled with fear. “Fuck you.” His voice breaks and those haunted blue eyes are now shining with tears.
How many more people am I going to let down? “Gav—”
“Were you…?” Gavin swallows, his eyes darting around the room, looking for something. “Were you going to…?”
Oh shit.
“No, Gavin. No way. I would never do that.” I shake my head furiously at his assumption. Gavin went through a really bad time a few years back. His dad is a complete dick and would hit and humiliate him, trying to beat the gay out of him. As a result of years of abuse, he tried to kill himself with an overdose of medication.
Now he thinks I’m trying to kill myself. In our bedroom. The one I share with him, where he would find my body.
No wonder he’s pissed.
“You’d never do that?” Gavin steps closer, crowding me back until my legs hit my bed. “You’d never do that?” His voice rises an octave, nearing an alarming volume. “Every time you pull one of your stupid, risky stunts you’re doing exactly that!” Gavin steps away, pacing the room and fisting his hair.
“I wasn’t, Gav. I promise.” Watchin
g my best friend lose it has me close to panic, which completely erases the high I was riding just minutes ago.
Gavin drops heavily on his bed, his shoulders sagging, his head down. Once again, I’ve fucked up spectacularly with someone I care about. His chest expands as he takes a deep breath and I wait on pins and needles as he slowly blows the air out. When Gavin finally raises his head and his blue eyes meet mine, I see sad resignation.
“Fine.”
That’s all he’s going to say?
“Fine?” I repeat.
“Yeah, fine.” Gavin suddenly stands, strips off his shirt and pants, and climbs under the covers. “Turn out the light.”
I stand, stunned, needing a minute to process what just happened. I snap out of it and click the switch to the overhead lights. The lamp next to my bed emits a soft glow, giving me just enough light to move around the messy room without tripping on something.
Still confused by Gavin’s quick capitulation, I enter the tiny attached bath and close the door. After shedding my own pants and shirt, I sink to the floor, clutching my head in my hands. The burn on my calf pulses angrily, a throbbing reminder of just how damaged I am.
As I sit on the cold tiles, I think about Gavin, who’s been my best friend ever since we met at the psychiatric hospital as angry, fucked-up teenagers and we bonded over the fact we both loved music and his last name was the same as my middle name. The look on his face tonight destroyed me. I don’t want Gavin to worry about me all the time.
That look of utter defeat? The fact that he’s pretty much surrendered himself to living with the knowledge that I’ll eventually kill myself? It guts me like a knife slicing deep across my abdomen.
And Abby. How much have I fucked up with her? How many times will she be willing to watch me self-destruct before she eventually becomes like my best friend? Numb, cold...detaching from emotions to protect him from my stupidity.
For the first time in a long time, I curl up in a ball and cry.
Abby
“I’m going to miss you so much,” Hawke whispers as he combs his fingers through my hair. My cheek is resting on his bare chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart while we relax in the aftermath of a round of spectacular going-away sex. The band is setting off tonight for a US tour, their big break opening for U2. They’ll be gone for almost two months.
“Me too.” I press a kiss to his skin, right over a tattoo of a set of angel’s wings with the initials HLE in the center. I’ve tried to examine every single line of ink and mark on his body, but Hawke is very good at evading my touch, my gaze, my questions.
I drag my finger over the letters, tracing them lightly. Hawke flinches under my hand and his muscles tense up a fraction. He probably doesn’t realize I notice the subtle signs. I’m already well aware how uncomfortable he is with me seeing him so exposed.
