-Randall-
I felt like shit the next morning. At first, I wasn't even sure why, but when I tried to scratch my temple, and felt the bandages, I remembered what I'd nearly done last night. I stopped to stare at the ceiling, my head quiet for once. My eyes felt like they were covered in sand. So did my throat.
But suddenly, I wanted to throw up when I remembered crying like an ugly bitch, and the feeling grew worse when I thought about Cole. He'd seen it all. I'd cried like a fucking baby right in front of him.
Somehow, I managed to get out of bed. I wished I wouldn't find Cole in my apartment when I stepped out of my bedroom, but that wish didn't come true. He was there, sleeping on my couch. I stopped to stare at him.
"No! I'm done with you! All of you!"
I suddenly couldn't get any air into my lungs. I... almost killed myself. I'd held the knife... If Cole hadn't stopped me... And I was disgusted because I cried in front of him. I almost killed myself and my first instinct was to hate myself for crying... I felt sick. Sick and scared.
What the fuck was wrong with me...?
"Cole...?" I muttered.
He flinched awake and turned to look at me. For a second, he seemed confused, but after he pulled a hand over his face to wake up, he smiled at me.
"Hey," his voice was gentle as he got up. "How are you feeling?"
I didn't answer him. I could only stand there and watch him. He stopped in front of me and gave me a careful glance. Part of me still wanted him to go, to leave me alone, but I... I didn't want to be left alone. I couldn't stand the idea of having to be alone. I was too afraid of myself.
And I didn't know what to do. What was I supposed to do now...? Eat breakfast? Like I didn't try to end my own life last night? Act like it was just a small hiccup and move on? I felt so lost... Lost and numb and so fucking scared of myself, scared of how easily I'd pointed the knife to my stomach...
"Let's take it easy today, okay?" he spoke gently. "I already messaged Jonah, my psychologist. He'll get back to me once he's cleared up his schedule for you."
Psychologist...? Again, my first instinct was to get angry at him. I didn't need a shrink. I didn't need his help. I didn't... I didn't want to talk about what happened. But of course I needed it... I almost fucking died last night by my own fucking hand. Why was I angry at the only man who was trying to help me?
I was scaring myself so much...
"I want this to end," I whispered.
"I need you to be strong for me for a little while longer," he said, carefully touching my arm. His touch was short, but his warmth lingered... "You don't have to deal with this alone anymore."
"I... Okay..." I muttered, and he nodded.
"How about breakfast?" he asked with a smile and glanced at the kitchen.
"I don't think I have any food in here," I said. "Sorry..."
"That's all right," he said and hesitated before he continued. "We could go get something from the store, but I have plenty of food at home. Maybe you'd want to stay at my place for a while?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Well... I have a nice, cozy guestroom, and my living room is basically a small movie theater," he explained, looking around in my cold, barren home. "And I have lots and lots of food."
I wanted to say no, but why would I want to stay here? With nothing to accompany me but misery and fucked up mind?
So... I nodded. "Sure... I... I think I need to get out of here for a moment."
I'd only drive myself crazy if I stayed here. Crazy and... dead.
"That's what I was thinking," he said gently. "Grab some clothes and everything else you may need."
I did as he asked and went to find a big enough bag to pack my stuff. I felt... glad. I'd grown to hate being in that apartment. Now more than ever. There were nothing but bad memories of me being swallowed by my messed-up head. And what I'd almost done last night...
The walk to his apartment was a silent one. Getting out of my place felt... good. I liked the fresh air... and the company. The fear faded a little as I took careful glances at Cole. His calmness was soothing. He knew what to do now. I was so numb I couldn't even consider trying to figure out what to do now. I wanted to stay numb because I was still too scared to let myself think about anything.
So... I needed him to do it for me.
We arrived at his bar, but instead of stepping in, he led me behind the corner and stopped by another door.
"I live upstairs," he explained while opening it.
There was only one flight of stairs we had to climb up to reach his apartment. When he let me in, I stopped to stare at it all.
His apartment couldn't have been more different from mine. It was clean and tidy, but filled with stuff. Even the entrance hall was packed. There was a bookshelf on the left side of the door with a desk next to it, and a wardrobe hidden in a small alcove covered with curtains on my right, while the floors were covered with thick carpets.
I took a few careful steps deeper and saw his kitchen on my left. It looked like he owned every possible cup, kettle, and appliance anyone could possibly need to make food. The living room was at the opposite of the kitchen, and it was just as he'd said: it was a small movie theater.
"Make yourself at home," he said gently, walking past me. "Come. I'll show you to your room."
I followed him past the living room to a narrow hallway. There was a bathroom on our left, and another room with a closed door next to it. The bedrooms were on the right. He walked past his own and stopped to open the door at the end of the hallway.
"Here. You can stay here as long as you want," he said, pushing the door open.
It was a really nice bedroom. A big bed, big windows, cozy interior. I had never cared about stuff like that, but that room... It sure looked nice. Welcoming.
"Thank you," I muttered, lowering my bag onto the ground.
"Take a look around if you want," Cole suggested. "I'll go make us breakfast in the meantime."
"Cole..." I spoke without actually knowing what to say to him. I just... I looked at him and saw a smile on his face. "Thank you," I repeated, feeling awkward.
"You're welcome," he said, smiling gently.
I watched him leave before I turned my attention back to the room. I didn't really feel the need to look around, but I appreciated the moment alone. I already felt calmer. Maybe it was the warm atmosphere in the apartment, or Cole himself, or something completely else. Whatever it was, I was grateful. I wasn't even close to freaking out anymore. Like my mind was back under my control.
It was a relief... I didn't want to experience last night ever again. Even the memories of it scared me, and because of that, I walked out of the room. I didn't want to be left alone, not now that I was finally feeling better.
I found Cole in the kitchen, searching for plates. I stopped to stare at him, suddenly feeling odd again. He peered over his shoulder and spotted me, giving me a friendly smile.
"Have a seat."
I glanced at the dining table next to the window, but didn't move.
"I like your home," I said, just to say something.
"Thanks! Moving in was a pain in the ass, though. I have way too much stuff."
"Well, you've seen my apartment," I mumbled, feeling cold just by thinking about it.
He was quiet when he brought the plates to the table, then stopped to watch me. I looked away and heard him letting out a deep breath.
"If I can be honest...?" he said, and I tensed up. I came up with all kinds of bad things he was going to say to me, but I nodded anyway. "I've watched you for a long time, and I wasn't really surprised when I saw your home."
I relaxed when he paused. I heard him making his way to me. I felt his hand on my shoulder. I hesitated before looking at him. He was watching me with sad eyes.
"I could see so much emptiness in you, but I thought... I thought I saw something else when we were together."
I had to look away from him again. My head was screaming at me to stay silent. It wasn't my father's voice either. It was me. I wanted to stay silent.
But I didn't.
"You were right," I murmured.
I took a careful glance at him. He was smiling again, but it faded soon.
"But I made you feel worse," he said quietly.
"But you also made me feel better," I whispered. "You made me want to change. You made me want to talk about... what happened. I didn't want to live the rest of my life feeling nothing. Being nothing. That's on you."
Why was I saying such things so easily? What was it about him that made me want to explain and talk?
Why did it feel so normal...?
I lifted my hand and carefully touched his arm, the one that was still resting on my shoulder. I lowered my head when he didn't speak, but didn't let go of him.
Why was I so comfortable with him now? What had changed since last night...?
The fact that I didn't want to die.
"I... feel like I should tell you..." he murmured. "You can ignore it and tell me to fuck off if you like, but I want to be honest with you, so it won't cause issues down the line or anything..."
I waited in silence while he gathered his courage.
"I like you," he finally said.
My old man should've started screaming in my head. But he didn't. Cole's words had taken all the space from him, leaving him nothing to hold on to.
"I completely understand if you aren't interested, I just... I just want to be honest with you so you can decide what to do next. I mean... I get it if you don't want to stay here and want me to leave you alone, or–"
"Shut up," I whispered. "I knew that already."
"You... did?"
"I'm not blind..."
"Oh... I thought it wasn't... I mean... I wasn't..."
"It was obvious."
"Oh..."
"I'm hungry," I said, but still didn't let go of him. Not just yet.
"The breakfast is ready," he said in a gentle voice.
I nodded and waited for a few seconds longer before I finally let go of him and stepped back. I didn't know what to think about his little confession. I didn't know why my old man wasn't screaming at me because of it. I didn't know why I was so calm. But I knew one thing. I wanted it all to end. Without ending myself. But I didn't know what to do, so... I needed Cole.
I trusted him, this near stranger, more than I trusted myself.