𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟎𝟏 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐗

There came a long pause and I swear I heard static. Keenan chuckled, peppered with bitterness from the distaste in his heart, "That fucker found a way."

I took it as another cue to approach. Grabbing a nearby pillow, I swept some shards off of the mattress—enough to make space beside Ki. That's where I sat. The bed dipped and our arms brushed but he made no indication of consciousness towards his surroundings. To put it simply, Keenan was out of it.

He grumbled, cleared his throat, and glared at the spot on the floor as if it were his father resurrected. Keenan's next words made the hair at the back of my neck go up, "I wanna piss on his grave, Gi," he took a shaky breath, "I wanna dig his corpse up and snap every single bone in half. I wanna run over his fucking skull and fucking—" he sighed, "I want him dead all over again."

My mouth moved for me, but my voice was so soft it was nothing, "I'd help you."

"I know you would," he mumbled. Keenan shook his head as he shifted in his seat, "I don't even blame her for telling me just now. I can't," his head whipped to me, brows with a curve in between and mouth carrying the weight of misfortune, "And I wish I can say that I can't imagine what it must've been like for her, but I can. Partly, at least. Because I was there—I knew him too, I lived there. I lived there and I wasn't able to do anything."

Keenan's jaw tightened, "I wasn't able to do shit."

I still didn't know what to say or if I should speak. I only listened and watched—watched as Keenan sighed again, face softening. The lines on his forehead disappeared along with the downward curve of his lips. As if Keenan had caught himself, just like that, he looked guarded again. And to prove that he was, "That's all," he said.

But I didn't believe him. And if he really knows me as much as he lets on, he'd know it too. "Are you sure?" I voiced. He stared at me, looking as if he'd heard me ask the question a million times already. Keenan didn't look pissed, he looked tired. Those are the two most common expressions of Keenan, I came to realize: annoyance and tiredness.

Being the honest boy that he is, he shook his head. "Take your time," I told him, "I'll listen."

It registered but he decided not to speak about it. Keenan stood up. The faint crunch of broken glass sounded beneath the soles of his shoes. That's when I knew that I had been locked out again. "I should call my sister."

I was dismayed not because he didn't open up further to me. I was dismayed because it's what he needs. Regardless if company was me or another girl, another guy, another friend, the man needs release. Something told me that he knew this but he'll never admit it. My reply was as lame as Gia, "Yeah, good idea."

I did my best to suppress my frown when he added "You should go."

"I should."

But will I? of all the times Keenan told me off, I never really followed. Somehow those moments brought me here. As he said: if I weren't so curious, he wouldn't have told me things that he knew I would not invalidate. However, this situation is different. I'd be wrong to persist but I'd also be wrong to abandon.

I stood, wary of the glass. Keenan's figure was blocking the sunlight from the windows, casting a six-foot-something silhouette outlined with bright light. He had his hands in his pockets as he stared at me expectantly. "Go," he spoke when I didn't move. And when more seconds passed, he glared.

"Go—" "Are you sure?" I cut in, "Are you sure you want me to go?"

He licked his lips, "That's a stupid question."

There it was again: the word stupid. I folded my arms in front of my chest, "I thought we agreed that you'll eliminate that word."

Keenan Travino did his famous eye roll, "We agreed that I'd stop calling you stupid. It's the question that's stupid, Gianna."