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Irotated myself until we were shoulder to shoulder. He dragged his feet behind, scraping his brown leather oxfords on the hardwood floor on our way to my bedroom. Every two or three steps, Zach lost his balance and Ileaned against the hall’swalls. By some miracle, we made it to my bed where Ilaid him down. He nearly knocked himself down as he plopped down on the edge and Istraightened him to sit up.
As Igazed at his miserable, tired, and adorable face, aflurry of butterflies stirred in my stomach. Ishook my head when Irealized how lost I’dgotten in his eyes.
He caught my wrist when Istepped back to go and close the front door. “I’mjust going to lock the door.”
He kept looking at me without speaking, waves of sadness rolling off him, ones I’dmistaken for intoxication. Irushed to correct myself, “I’ll be back before you notice, scout’shonor.”
Resigned, Zach released me, his hand dropping to his side. Iwaited for abeat to ensure he stayed in place and didn’ttumble from the bed. Icouldn’tbe sure, especially since nothing made sense that evening, and Inudged him farther in. His eyes fluttered shut and Ijogged to the door, then got him aglass of water and aspirin, like he had taken care of me all those months ago.
After placing everything on the nightstand beside asleeping Zach, Iundressed him—shoes, socks, pants, then got stuck on his shirt.
“You’re going to have to help me here, buddy,” Itold him when Itugged up his white polo shirt, his arms refusing to cooperate.
He stirred awake and gazed at me. Inodded with my head to both his sides, raising the hem of the shirt to his face so he understood what Iwanted from him. The mime Iused got through to him and he raised his arms to his middle, allowing me to tug off his shirt.
“You’re so, so beautiful.”
Alow sigh left me. Icaressed his cheek and placed asoft kiss on the opposite one. “You said that.”
“Hmph.” He hugged his arms to his chest.
Iventured to talk about something else to distract him. “How did you get here?”
“Taxi,” he blurted out. “You’re the most b—”
“Yes, yes, we already established that I’mbeautiful.” Ihuffed alaugh, content that at the very least he hadn’tdriven. “Where were you?”
“My parents, then abar.” It sounded more likemaparentstheneba, one large, slurred word, but Iunderstood. After afew months of knowing aperson as intimately as we did, of swallowing up everything and anything we talked about, you understood.
Iunderstood and worried. Zach knew his limits when he drank, and he rarely crossed them. Tonight, he didn’tjust cross them, he trampled all over them. Worse yet, he did it at abar by himself.
“Were you with someone at the bar?”
He shook his head.
Oh.His fucking parents. Anger boiled inside of me, my fist itching to punch them for bringing him to his knees.
As long as he was coherent, Ithrew in another question to see what else Icould do for him. “Did your parents say anything?”
“They’re assholes!” He banged his head back, the alcohol numbing the physical pain. “What do they know anyway?”
My stomach churned and Itwisted my fingers in my lap. He faced my parents, unfazed by their harshness. Icouldn’tand didn’twant to imagine anything worse than this directed at him, without being able to defend him like he had for me.
“Here, drink this.” Ioffered him the glass of water. It felt like such an insignificant thing, but at the moment, it was all Ihad to give him.
He emptied it in two gulps and wiped his mouth, small drops dripping down his chin. Itook it from him and put it aside, then wiped his chin with atissue, hating, so very much hating, how helpless they made him.
He squeezed my hand until Ifaced him again. “Iwantohababies.”
“Huh?” What he said made absolutely no sense. Nope, Idid not hearbabies.
“I…” He breathed, pulling me to him. “…want…”
Don’tsay it, don’tsay it, oh please God, don’tlet him say it.
“…babies.”
Fuck.
