On the Road to Serenity (sequel to Take Me to Church)

Chapter 5

A/N 

Once again, I apologize for typos, grammatical errors, and inconsistencies. I've been struggling with writer's block for months now, so whenever I'm inspired to write, I may write in one of my many unfinished stories. 

This is particularly a hard story to write since it deals with addiction and addiction is ugly. 

As I let the water beat down on my face, Liam took a washcloth to my back. It had been such a long time since anyone acted like they gave a shit about me. I stood there like a statue, letting Liam wash my back, neither of us speaking. After a few minutes, he dropped the washcloth and brought his fingers to my hair. I was torn between wanting him to touch me and  getting out of the shower.

"You couldn't wait to comb my hair, huh?" I said. I didn't understand why my voice shook when I spoke to him. He never made me nervous before.

Liam didn't respond, combing the knots out with his fingers. He stood so close to me, his front pressed against my back.

"You don't want me like this," I said as his lips brushed against the side of my neck. "Trust me, Liam. I think I want you to go. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't have come."

Four years ago, I'd never think of Liam as a master manipulator, but that all changed... thanks to me. Today, I didn't trust his motives. Was he really worried about me or did my text trigger him? Was he here to score? And by 'score' I don't mean sex. Addiction destroyed all the good in Liam. Maybe he got the good back, but I could never be too sure.

"Everyone seems to think they know what's best for me," Liam said as I got out of the shower.

"Get outta here, Liam. Delete my number. I'm about to delete yours." In a towel, I headed out of the bathroom and to my phone. Liam ran after me and shoved my arm, knocking the phone out of my hand. "What the fuck?"

"Don't delete my number. I'm so fucking lonely," he said in tears. "I'm so lost. I've missed you like crazy and I've been so worried and no one seems to care. No one cares, but I care. I fucking care." Dripping wet, Liam plopped down on the bed. "I know he cares. He wouldn't have called you if he didn't care, right? I know he still cares about you."

"Who's he?" I asked, playing dumb. I suspected I knew who 'he' was.

"Jeremy."

"Yeah, he cares," I said, sitting beside Liam. "He cares about you. As for me... well, I'm pretty sure he hates my fucking guts because of what I did to you."

"You didn't do anything to me."

"Yeah, right," I said. If Liam and I had never met, he never would have become an addict. 

"I want us to be like we were again."

"That's never gonna happen."

"Then I choose you."

"I don't want anyone to choose anyone," I said. "Maybe the three of us can't even be friends. Maybe the past is the past and that's it."

"No," Liam said, sniffing. "Don't say that."

"What do you want me to say? We're not seventeen and eighteen anymore. We were living in a fantasy. Fantasies aren't real. Seriously, Liam, think about it. You, me, and Jeremy--the three of us are completely different people. What we had was never sustainable. Jeremy was gone the first chance he got."

To protect his precious football scholarship, Jeremy preferred to keep a low profile in college. He said he didn't care if people knew he was gay; he just didn't want people to know he was part of a throuple with two guys. In college, if Jeremy was out and proud and if he had to choose between us, he would have chosen Liam to be his boyfriend. Liam never did anything to embarrass him. Liam was a good boyfriend. Jeremy wasn't necessarily in the closet, but he kept his sexuality well hidden and I was nothing but a train wreck. Jeremy didn't do well with train wrecks.