CHAPTER 3
KIAN
“He’s not here, Kian. I haven't heard from him either.”
I grasp the phone in my hand hard enough to crack the screen. But it doesn’t crack, because even with this much anger pulsing through my body, my muscles are still weak. The barely there muscles in my forearms flexing as I unclench my fingers from around my phone.
Where is Trent, and why did he not go to Mitch’s? That’s the only reason I asked him to leave. Because I knew Mitch would help him. For all the times Trent has fucked up, Mitch has been right there to get him back on solid ground. Mitch has been another dad to me, but especially to Trent, ever since our own kicked us out and forced us to grow up faster than we should have, just because we loved each other.
Mitch opened his doors to two kids who had nothing but the shirts on their back and a whole lot of unnecessary baggage from asshole parents. Mitch never cared about that though; he cared about me and Trent being the best we could. And look where that got us.
Me, alone in our one bedroom apartment. Trent, who the hell knows where.
I never should have let him leave, but when I walked in and saw he was passed out, again , I couldn't take it anymore. I called Mitch, and Mitch agreed to help. Then when Trent agreed, I thought I finally got it through to him how much it hurts to see him like that. To see the love of my life, the one person I'm supposed to spend forever with, drinking himself to an early grave because he doesn’t know how to cope.
Him losing his job isn’t even that big of a deal. My job now pays well enough that he doesn’t have to work if he doesn’t want to. He could follow his dream of becoming a poet, filling leather bound books with flowery words and deep feelings. The man I truly know isn’t gone–he’s just away for a while. Once he starts to take care of himself, we can go back to how we were before.
“Call me if you hear anything,” I tell Mitch. “I’m going to look around town.”
It shouldn’t be that hard to find him.
???
Twenty minutes and three laps around town later, there’s still no trace of him. His phone keeps going straight to voicemail, and I’m worried. Trent isn’t mean, or outright terrible to me. If he knew how worried I was at this moment, there’s not a doubt in my mind he would do everything he could to rectify it. But he’s not here, and I don't know where he is.
There’s no point in continually driving around when it’s obvious I'm not going to find him. So I have two options: go into work and try to stay busy, or I can go to Mitch's and we can both worry about Trent together.
The first one is more productive, and I know my boss would love to see me clocking in extra hours. You know, putting in extra work to build the business. Which I guess I am, since I love my job. Working in social media isn’t how I dreamed I would ever make a living, but it's fun. Creating content marketed to consumers and knowing they’ll see it and get even a fraction of enjoyment makes it worth it to me.
Now that I finally have that block in place to build a life on, it would be perfect if my boyfriend would be here so I can wrap him up in my arms and remind him that no barrier is too great for us to climb over together.
The ring I bought him has been burning a hole in my pocket. I've taken to carrying it everywhere so he doesn’t accidentally find it. And now, it’s like a stone weighing me down. Because how can he agree to love me and care for me through sickness and health when he can’t even take care of himself?
My phone rings, and for a stupid moment I think it’s Trent calling me, and the worry I've been feeling slowly morphs to anger. When I see an unknown number on the screen, my emotions are flipped back to worry. Is this Trent calling me on someone else’s phone? Did he lose his? Is he okay?
“Hello?” I ask frantically.
The line clicks, and I pull the phone back from my face to stare at it. What the hell?
I try calling the number back, but it rings until it goes to voicemail. Must have been the wrong number.
Screw it, I’m going to Mitch’s. I won’t get any content done today if I try to go into the office. My thoughts are scattered all over the place, and I won’t be able to focus on one long enough to create anything.
The drive to Mitch's house is short, and when I pull into his driveway he’s sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch waiting for me.
“Took you long enough,” he yells so loud that I can hear him above the music playing through my radio.
Turning the car off, I step out and lock it behind me. “I looked around first, but I couldn’t find him,” I say, sitting down in the chair beside him and stealing his cup for a swig of sweet tea. The sugary liquid is cool running down my throat and a nice reprieve from the hot weather.
“He’ll show up. He probably just had to sleep a hangover off,” Mitch says matter-of-factly, and I hate it. Not because the words aren’t true, but because that’s what Trent has been reduced to.
“I know he will, but I worry about him.”
“You always have, and you always will. Sometimes, I don't think that boy sees what’s right in front of him.” Mitch shakes his head, his body flowing with the rocking chair. His movements are slow and unhurried.
“I don’t want to give up on him…” I trail off, and the stupid tears from last night are back again. I hate crying.
“Sometimes you have to do what’s best for you, and as much as I love him, he’s not what’s best for you. At least not right now.”
I can feel my heart splintering in my chest.
No.
NO.
No matter what, it’s me and Trent. We made the promise of forever, and I’m keeping it. This is a rough patch–all couples have them. We’ll come back from this and reflect on it later in life when we’re both old and gray and can’t even get our dicks up anymore.
“He’s mine. He always has been, and he always will be.”
Those words I feel down to my core, and I know I'll always be here waiting for Trent.