Supernatural Boarding School #2 - A Touch of Red ✅

Chapter 18

The moment I walked into Eros’ dorm on Friday night, I knew something was terribly wrong. The fact that the door was open had tipped me off immediately, but the smell of booze and the lack of reaction when I called Eros’ name told me all I needed to know. My boyfriend had drunk himself into yet another alcohol-induced coma. I was pretty sure I hadn’t done anything to activate the desperation that always drove him to over-indulge, so it must have something to do with his mom and dad.

“Eros?” I called again as I walked into his bedroom. I prayed he wouldn’t be there, that I was wrong. Maybe he was out for a run, and the smell was coming from a bottle that had spilled after he’d drunk only one tiny little glass...

When I saw his snoring body on the ground in front of the bathroom, all my hopes were crushed. Sighing, I picked him up and dragged him to the bed, tucking him in like a little baby. He smiled in his sleep, but it didn’t look peaceful. Even while unconscious, he seemed bitter and unfocused. The bond was still off – it had been for hours – but it only took me a few minutes to push through his walls. He was in no condition to fight me. Even now, hurt and resentment lingered in his aura and energy, and it was apparent that they weren’t directed at me. It must have been something his mother had done or said then.

I looked around for his phone and eventually found it underneath a pile of clothes in a corner of the living room. One look on the display told me all I needed to know: his mother had called and – wonder of all wonders – Eros had answered. I had no idea what she could have said to make her son go all crazy once more, but it must have been bad. I grunted and dragged a hand across my face. What was I supposed to do now? What could I do? I mentally tugged at Eros’ energy stream, seeing if I could pull a part of his drunken haze into my own glow, so that he would sober up more easily. Even though I had never tried that before, I could already feel it working. I kept pulling until the frown on his forehead lessened and I started to feel a little buzzed myself. I couldn’t let myself get drunk second-hand, so I stopped and threw some water in my face to feel more alert.

What more could I do? After a moment of careful deliberation quite uncommon for me, I took out my phone and called the only person I could think of.

“Yes?” he answered almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Dylan,” I breathed, feeling better now that I heard his voice. “His mother called.”

“I’ll be right there.”

About five minutes later, Dylan rushed in, dripping wet. When I frowned and gestured at his wet hair and damp clothes, he grumbled.

“I was taking a swim,” he said. “Didn’t really have time to shower or anything.”

Indeed, he smelled like chlorine and sweat. It wasn’t as disgusting as it sounds – the smell fit him well, and his hair looked kinda cute all wet and sticking in every possible direction.

Dylan crouched in front of Eros’ bed and stroked the matted hair out of his friend’s face almost tenderly. “Oh dude... what have you done to yourself this time...” He shook his head and got up, turning to me. “Why did you call me?”