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I wait for him to get back, staring at the ceiling and thinking of what sessions I’ll have today. After thirty minutes have passed, I unplug my phone from the charger and start typing out all my complaints to James.
Wynn: How could you leave me here without telling me it’s unorthodox? Did you know my roommate is a MAN.
James: Jesus, it’s four a.m., should I have them add sleeping medication to your prescriptions as well? :)
Wynn: Fuck you... yeah that would actually be nice lol.
James: Love you. Sorry about the roommate, is he your type? Maybe it’s not such a bad thing.
Wynn: He’s something. Love you too.
I can’t help but smile. James never keeps his phone on sound, so maybe he was expecting me to text him and complain. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that… and somehow it makes me feel better.
As the minutes tick by I find myself thinking about Liam’s old roommate. Who was he? Did he ever notice Liam getting up in the middle of the night, or was he a heavy sleeper? Crosby. I want to know more about him. I make a mental note to ask around tomorrow when Liam isn’t nearby.
The door creaks open and Liam walks back in. He shuts the door behind him and leans his body against it like he’s tired, breathing heavily.
Where did he go? Why at this hour?
I sit up in bed and his head tilts in my direction.
“What?” he grumbles, He sounds either drunk or in pain.
I fist the sheets. He’s so insufferable. “Where did you go at this hour?”
His figure is dark in the dim room and I can’t see his facial features, but the tone of his voice is sharp as he says, “It’s none of your business. Go back to sleep.”
He’s acting odd enough for me to tap on the bedside lamp. It illuminates the room and my stomach curls at the sight of Liam.
His clothes are wet, mud coats his shoes, and… and blood drips down from his knuckles. His expression is hard like stone, looking at me with rage.
“Oh my God.” I stumble from my bed and approach him carefully. “What happened?” I reach for his arm but he pulls away and gives me a death glare.
“I said go back to bed, Wynn.”
My legs tremble but I refuse to move. “I asked what happened.”
We stand face-to-face, each glaring daggers at the other. Finally his stony expression softens and he takes off his shoes and sweatshirt. He sighs when I stand firm, waiting for a response.
“I just went for a walk.”
“And hurt yourself?”
He eyes me with annoyance before muttering, “Yeah.”
“You said we were to stop each other. I’m confronting you on it.” I steady my breathing and try to reach for his arm again. This time he doesn’t pull away. He lets me grab his arm and his eyes meet mine wearily.
I push his sleeve up and find a long cut running down his forearm—not over his artery, but along the side. His blood is hot and sticky, dripping to the floor and infusing the air with a metallic scent.
“Liam,” I mutter in disbelief. How could he do this to himself on purpose… He woke up in the middle of the night to do this? Why?
“I’m fine,” he growls, pulling his arm back.
“That’s not fine,” I protest and head toward his nightstand, opening it and grabbing the gauze and tape. I snag him fresh clothes while I’m at it. “We have to get you cleaned up.” He’s not himself. He’s sick and he’s lost a lot of blood already.
Liam stares blankly up at me. I take it as compliance as I lead him back into the hall and into the bathrooms.
It’s pitch-black outside. Rain begins totickagainst the windows again and wind rattles the panes. I flip the shower lights on and a section of the bathroom lights up. Liam just watches me and follows obediently. Thank God. But it’s so unlike the person I’ve known for only a day now.
