fuckboy

chapter xxii

Chris's P.O.V.

I smiled, blowing at the steam coming from the scorching mug of coffee my mom had just poured for me. It was so great to see her again, verify that she was in fact okay, even though I knew it. Even though I'd seen her, spoken to her through facetime, nothing could really compare to being right there, under her care.

"So, how were these first few months of quarantine? I don't know how you didn't go insane with anxiety, I was worried about how you would take this." I smiled to myself as I thought back on Y/N and how she'd been the reason why I didn't go completely crazy. I hadn't actually told ma about her - didn't want to raise her expectations about something I didn't know where it was headed, but now that we'd spent four months living together, I felt comfortable enough to talk to her about it.

I actually needed her help. If there was anyone who knew me better than myself, it was her. So I told her everything. The safe-for-work version, of course. But I told her about how Y/N and I had been kind of together way before Disney, and how everything changed after that.

How I had screwed things up. How she forgave me to take care of me once the pandemic started. By the end of it, my cheeks were flushed, but I was more than relieved to have shared this with someone, especially someone I cared about so much.

Until she said the words I was dreading to see verbalized.

"You're in love with her." Weirdly, once it was out, they didn't seem as terrifying. Sure, my heart was pounding and my hands were sweaty, but I couldn't wipe this stupid grin off of my face.

Was this what love felt like?

My mom didn't seem to have any doubts about it. "Why didn't you bring her?" She asked, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "I would have loved to have her over. I'm sure she would have enjoyed it, too."

A feeling of dread rushed through me, like a bucket of ice cold water had been dropped over my head. My smile faltered, and I was sure my mom noticed, so I forced myself to swallow around the lump that appeared in my throat as I admitted, "Oh, I... I didn't even think to ask her."

There was a short silence after my confession, and I felt judged as my mother's gaze burned me, but I kept my eyes fixed on the mug I still held. When I couldn't take it anymore, I started babbling, clearing my throat as I tried to justify it, "I've never... You know I've never brought a girl back home before. And I was so excited to see you, I didn't even..."

And so it hit me, the realization of how exactly I'd left her. In my bed, after I'd just almost told her that I loved her.

After I called her mine.

Shame washed over me so bitterly, I couldn't even look my mother in the eye.

"So she spent months living with you, taking care of you, overcoming her own feelings about the fight you t had in Florida and once travel restrictions were lifted..." She didn't even need to finish it, I did so in my head.

I left her alone.

My silence was telling. But instead of anger, my mother sighed, and I saw her shake her head from the corner of my eyes. "Chris," she called out to me, "If you have any expectations of ever being able to count on her like that again..."

And I did. Lord, I wanted to count on her for everything, every day of my life. The realization had me jumping up from the chair, instinctively looking for my phone. I needed to talk to her.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," I repeated, my leg shaking as I listened to the phone ring. "Please, pick up!" It was getting harder to breathe by each beep, until it reached voicemail and I closed my eyes in agony.

"Maybe she's busy," my mother offered, rubbing my back. "Try not to read too much into it, hm? She'll get back to you when she can." But I was too overwhelmed by my own stupidity not to immediately turn off the call and try again. Panting, I hear the phone do the same thing at leas twice, until the third time, the call simply didn't go through.

"Fuck." A part of me had honestly believed my mother was right. She was just busy and once she saw my name on her phone, she'd reach out to me and I'd have the opportunity to apologize, maybe even convince her to get on a plane and join me here.

But now I knew the truth. And it was that she'd realized how much of a screw-up I was, and she had enough of me now. Meanwhile, here I was, wanting to hold her and see her face, pathetically clinging to my phone and pressing redial, hoping she would change her mind and pick it up.

Or at the very least, unblock me so I could hear it ring, keeping alive the hope that she'd one day forgive me.

"Mom, can you help me look for plane tickets back to New York? I need to find the next one, do you think they would sell it on the counter..." My voice was drowned by the television she had turned on as I spoke, taking in the news that once again, traveling had been prohibited.

I was stuck in Boston with no way to reach her.