I wrote this for Adriana cause it's funny when she cries over them!!
The scalding water hits Calum's back like knives, the searing sensation giving him at least something to feel. He stands in the shower, staring at the white tile of the wall, almost completely numb. With each passing second he feels as if his heart snaps into smaller pieces. His knees are weak from standing, his arms heavy, his lids droopy, his eyes stinging with new tears. He finally leans against the wall, letting him slip to the floor. The water hits his face as he closes his eyes and let's himself cry.
He can't tell the water from his tears, but he doesn't care. The tub is cold, but he doesn't care. The water is slowly getting cold, but he doesn't care. He's turned the water to the 'hot' direction countless times, but he doesn't care. He's been in the shower for two hours, but he doesn't care.
The water is freezing when he starts to sob, and he doesn't want to move from the spot on the shower floor. His mind gifts him memories of the countless, steamy, kisses shared in this shower, the few times sex had been had, the few comforting holds, and the endless tears.
He doesn't want to remember any of it, it's unbearable. He tries to shove the memories out, to lock them away forever, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can't do it. It only makes him remember more. He feels like his world has ended, and to him, it has. He can barely muster enough strength to finally turn off the icy water, to stand, to wrap a towel around himself, to walk back into his bedroom.
He glances at the bed, the small pile of clothes that didn't belong to him at the foot of it, the scarf on the bedpost, the sweater hanging on the back of his closet door, the black hi-tops peeking out from under the bed, the duffel bag that remains half open and half packed.
He turns away, another lump forming in his throat. He glances at the mirror above his dresser, and he barely recognizes the pale, skin-and-bone figure that is supposed to be his reflection. Sunken cheeks and eyes and a nearly visible ribcage prove how little he's been taking care of himself since...
He closes his eyes, hoping that when he opens them, everything will be okay, and he'll see a pair of bright green eyes, open and wide and excited to see him. His stomach twists, and he feels like throwing up. He leans against the dresser for support, taking a deep, shaky breath. Opening his eyes to look at himself, he knows he isn't himself. Who is the man staring back at him? What has he become?
He can't cry again, not so soon, anyways. This is ridiculous. He tries to compose himself, to get himself dressed, but he can barely even pull clean clothes out of his drawer.
There's a knock on the door, and Calum spins around, his mind immediately thinking, "he's back". The door opens and Calum holds his breath.
Calum's bottom lip trembles, fresh tears slipping down his cheeks, crushing disappointment filling him. He wipes his eyes as his friend of several years, Luke, walks in, one step at a time.
"Calum, babe, no." He whispers, not caring about himself as he pulls a sill rather wet Calum in for a tight hug. Calum can barely hug back as he begins to cry. "Fuck. You gotta stop, Calum. We're all so damn worried. You have to stop, for us."
"I can't!" Calum chokes out. "I loved him! More than my own fucking life!" Calum's grip around Luke tightens. "I loved him..."
Luke himself tries not to tear up at the obvious pain in his friends voice. "I know you did. And he loved you too. I don't know what happened. But Calum, it's been almost a month now. I-" Luke bites his lip, listening as Calum's cries get more and more painful and heartbroken. "You just...you just gotta stay strong for all of us, Calum. We're all upset but...you have to be strong."