Autumn

7: When they're drunk

Autumn handed him a beer. It froze his already-cold hands, but the alcohol spread like fire through his veins. As time progressed, he wasn't sure how many he drank. Theodore tried to count the empty bottles on the grass, but the numbers kept getting jumbled in his head. He fought against the urge to laugh.

What day was it? God, he hoped it was Friday. There was no way he was going to school the next day if it wasn't.

"Autumn," he said. "Autumn."

"Yes?"

"Autumn."

She gave him a smile.

"God, I love your name." He gestured pathetically, trying to explain his adoration for it, but it felt like a vacuum had sucked his mouth dry and stole all his words away too. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Just...Jesus."

"You're drunk, Theodore."

"I know."

He flopped onto his back, sprawled out like a starfish in the grass and smiled lazily at the sky. He looked up at the stars, watching them sparkle and spin. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there was an urgent knocking. It was if someone was banging on a door, but he had misplaced the key.

There was a question... He wanted to ask Autumn something... It was important....

He sorted through his thoughts, filing through memories and dreams. For a moment, he managed to grab hold of it, catching a glimpse of what he was desperately trying to remember. Then the thought slithered away like smoke, disappearing into a wormhole of forgetfulness.

"What are you concentrating so hard on?"

If Theodore's eyebrows knitted together any further, he'd make a scarf. He instantly relaxed his features and looked up at Autumn. She was peering curiously at her empty bottle of beer, a small burp escaping her lips. It was so fucking adorable. He wanted to catch it and trap it in a bottle, like a one of those ships.

How do they get ships in bottles anyways?

His mind wandered again, but his eyes stayed on her. He watched her toss the bottle into the yard and blindly search for the remainder of the pack, which was long gone. Suddenly, his mind flashed shots of her earlier that evening. The way she stomped across the grass, a treacherous scowl on her face that screamed murder. Her eyes could barely contain the fire behind them, her mind a hurricane of destruction.

Autumn was beautiful, but fucking hell, she was monstrous when she was angry. 

He remembered his question.

"Why were you so angry?" he whispered, almost afraid to ask. She would most certainly destroy him.

But Autumn didn't retaliate like he thought she would. Instead, she flinched, turning her face away from him. She wrapped her arms around herself, curling her spine forward, refusing to look at him. Seeing the life drain from her killed him. It tore his insides into threads, left him breathless. He instantly sat up, reaching forward, even though his head was spinning.

"Autumn... God, I said something, didn't I? Fuck. I'm so sorry," he said, his voice slurring, words a sloppy string of syllables.

Theodore pulled her between his legs and held her. She curled into him, her fingers wrapping around the soft cotton of his jumper. Autumn didn't cry. She never cried. But the way she lost her composure...that was scarier than tears.

"It's not you," she whispered as he rested his chin on her head.

A flood of relief washed through him, soon accompanied by a strange protectiveness. "Who hurt you?" he asked, his words fierce.

"Nobody. I just—I just had a shitty day, Theo."

He held her a while longer, waiting for her to elaborate. But she never said anything more. Together, they sat in silence, listening to the howling of wind surrounding them. Theodore exhaled, watching his breath materialise in a cloud of smoke. He gathered up as much courage as he possibly could then squeezed her tighter, more desperately.

"Don't call me Theo," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Autumn looked up at him. One look at his expression explained everything.

"Theodore," she said. Then, more firmly, "Theodore."