Oblivious

7. coming home

A week later my life was a lot calmer. Jessica and I still hadn't talked to each other, but I was more than fine with that. I still needed time. A week was nothing. Especially not when I refused to think of her at all. I had kept myself occupied with TV-series and school work—everything to shut off my mind. It kept me from thinking about Ayden, and what he was doing in Florida. It dulled my feelings, and I was floating in a state where I wasn't really living.

The apartment had gone from clean to messy. I had let everything go, disregarding some of the basic requirements of living. The only difference from how it usually looked was that it consisted of my filth this time around, not Ayden's. I hadn't used the ingredients in the cupboards. Instead, I had smoked countless cigarettes and consumed enough alcohol to keep me sane.

It was Friday. Ayden had been away for a week and a day, and even if I knew I shouldn't worry, I did. Throughout yesterday and today, I had been restless, and I never became restless unless something was up. Even if I didn't want to acknowledge that it was because Ayden was due back, I knew the truth. I wasn't that good of a liar, not even to myself.

Enough days had gone by to quiet some of the incessant thoughts and worries that ran through me, but not all of them. I had watched some porn, and not of the kind Ayden did, but with straight couples. After that I had concluded that I wasn't gay since I still got off to it. However, I was still not certain how to handle the situation. One part of me just wanted to move out. On Wednesday night, I had even packed some of my stuff. The bags stood along the wall next to my door, waiting for me to decide what to do with them. It was either leaving, or unpacking them, but strangely enough it wasn't an easy choice.

My phone buzzed on the table, dancing around in small circles. It hadn't made a sound for a few days, so I eagerly picked it up. I wondered why I missed talking to people when I was alone, even if I mostly wanted to stay silent when others were around. I guess it was something deep-rooted. Humans weren't meant to be isolated.

It was an unknown number, so I started with, "Hello."

"Cal, it's me. I'm at the airport. Do you think you could pick me up?" Ayden's voice sounded a bit off, but that didn't stop my stomach from doing a back flip. I cursed it silently, willing it to stay in place—to stay out of this farce. It didn't work.

"Why?" I hadn't meant to sound rude. Perhaps it was the shock. "My car is at the shop, you know that."

The line went silent for a second.

"Take my car. I'm not feeling all too well, so I don't want to take the bus. And the cab is so fucking expensive."

Something must be seriously wrong if he allowed me to drive his car. "What happened?" I asked, genuinely worried.

"I don't think you want to know..."

He was right, I didn't, but at the same time those words sent a chill across my skin that settled deep within my core.

* * * *

Slamming the car door shut didn't relieve any sort of tension, at least not as I hoped it would. It was still coursing through me after the phone call. I knew I shouldn't be worried, as Ayden could take care of himself, but my body didn't listen to my mind. It didn't matter how many times I told myself that he was fine. The vulnerable tone in his voice had told me differently.

I revved the engine, happy to hear that Ayden's car hadn't lost its mind. I checked the street for passing cars and drove away, slightly worried about driving the death trap. It was a late Friday night, so fortunately the traffic was calm, but I was more worried about the people milling about. For a while they held my attention as I made sure not to hit any idiots who might stumble out in front of the car. Most of them seemed my age, falling over each other in their drunken stupor. If this would have been any other night, I would be right there with them.