Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Moon wasn’t answering his phone, which was weird.
When our schedules didn’t align, we usually texted as often as we could.
Neither Crescent nor Elio had heard from him, either, which was even weirder.
At first, I thought maybe he was having a really off day, and that work might’ve been busy for him.
Then, I convinced myself he’d simply gone to bed really early because he was exhausted.
But as a new day came through, and he still wasn’t answering, my gut started telling me differently.
Something wasn’t right.
It was past five-thirty on a Thursday, meaning, in theory, he should be off work. I’d decided that if he wasn’t going to answer anyone, I’d simply show up at his apartment for some proof of life.
I rapped my knuckles against his front door and waited.
No response. I knocked again, this time louder.
No response. I pounded on his door and put my ear against it, listening for any signs he was in there.
Nothing. I rolled my forehead against the door, closing my eyes and sighing.
“Moon?” I spoke against it. “Moon, are you in there?” Of course, nothing.
The worst part was that he didn’t have a car, so it wasn’t like I could just look around the parking lot to make sure he was home. “Moon, open the door. I’m getting worried about you.” I pounded on it again, the frame rattling with the force. My phone pinged in my back pocket.
Brat
Go away, Emerson.
What the fuck? “Are you okay? Are you sick? Just open the door.”
Brat: I said go away. Do you lack reading comprehension skills?
“Very funny, brat. Come on, we’re all worried about you.”
Brat: Don’t call me that. Don’t come to my door. Go away.
I squinted at my phone, confused. Don’t call him that? It was his favorite nickname, though. “Okay, now you’re scaring me. Are you
okay?”
Brat
I’m fine. This is the last text I’m sending, and I expect you to leave after. Go away.
This wasn’t like him. I may not have known him very long, but I knew this wasn’t something he’d do unless something was really wrong.
Something had to be wrong. We’d just made our relationship official—we just became boyfriends.
I thought back to the night I’d gone to his apartment and held him while he cried.
I thought about his broken, shattered pieces he kept talking about.
Running back to my car, I found the small notepad and pen I kept in the center console and scribbled on it. I tore the paper and ran back up to his door, reading it back over.
There is nothing broken, but I will hold your pieces together, anyway. I’m here for you. Don’t shut me out.
-Your boyfriend, your Daddy, your friend, Emerson.
I slid it beneath his door, watching it go through the crack. I just hoped it made a difference.
“Has he ever done something like this?” I swirled my straw around my cup, the ice hitting the sides.
Crescent shook his head, swallowing a bite of his sandwich.
He seemed to always have a sandwich. “No, he hasn’t.
I mean, he’s always been a hard ass. He was never exceptional at school or anything, so he just became super independent.
Like he was trying to level it out or something.
It makes me wonder if something happened at work.
Or maybe everything with Star is getting to him.
But going ghost like this? Nah, it’s really unusual. ”
Moon seemed to have high standards for himself in everything except taking care of himself. “I thought he and Star had smoothed things out.”
“A little bit, but not all the way. Once you piss Star off, you gotta work really hard at rebuilding that trust. Moon is in the process of that, but it may take a minute for things to get back to the way they were before. Trust me, I’d know.
” He sighed. “She once didn’t talk to me for a month because I forgot to pick her up from school twice.
She said if she couldn’t trust me to remember to pick her up, how could she trust I cared about anything else? ”
“Oh wow. So I shouldn’t get on Star’s bad side, huh?”
“Best not to, no.”
“Noted. How worried should I be, Cres? I mean, real talk.”
He shrugged. “I can’t say that I know, man. He isn’t the type to ask for help, but he also isn’t the type to suddenly stop speaking to everyone.”
I leaned back in the booth, kicking my feet out a bit. “How long has he struggled with his mental health?”
Crescent’s hand paused midair, his sandwich hovering there. His eyebrows pulled down. “It’d be a more recent development related to what happened in Lindenbergh. I’ve never seen him struggle otherwise. Of course, now that you say that, I don’t guess I’d know for sure if he was or not.”
From how Moon had vaguely mentioned things to me, it sounded more like it’d been an issue since he was fifteen and was “broken” because of whoever hurt him. Had he hidden it from his family this whole time?
“Well, now I am getting worried. We knew he was hurting, but if it's bad enough to make him do this, then it must be bad. You know how important we are to him. And if he’s truly my brother, then he won’t say anything until it’s dire.”
The back of my tongue started to tingle, rapidly going numb as the ringing in my ears picked up volume. “Until it’s dire?”
Crescent looked down at the table. “Yeah. Not to dump my shit on you, but I have had a long history of mental health struggles. I didn’t get help until after I’d tried to kill myself.
And then, more recently, I hid it from everyone again until I had a whole breakdown and finally told Elio after he confessed his love for me.
” He huffed a short, pained laugh. “It was a weird time. I know hiding it is a possibility because I did it. Maybe Moon wouldn’t do that, but again, he hates asking for help already. ”
My mouth was far too dry, and everything in the bakery was far too loud, mixing with the ringing and turning it into static in my ears.
I sucked coffee through my straw, trying to make the cotton mouth feeling go away.
God, I hoped Moon didn’t do that. I hoped he wasn’t at the point of hurting himself, or worse.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll, um. I’ll go check on him. See if he’ll open the door for me. I’ll go every day if I have to.”
“Please let me know if he does.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
Though I shouldn’t have been smiling, I was. Moon had asked me the same thing at least a dozen times, and I’d always answered it the same way. “I promise.”
The moment I got in my car, I headed over to Moon’s apartment complex. I made my way back up to his front door and knocked. Once again, I wasn’t sure if he was home or if he’d even listen to me, but I knocked. And knocked. And knocked.
No response. “I’m going to keep showing up, Moon. I won’t give up on you.” No response. No text. Nothing. “Moon, just open the door, please. Your brothers are worried about you.” Nothing.
I took out my notepad and used the door to keep it in place so I could write on it.
I saw the pain in your eyes the first day we met. Recently, I got to see what they looked at with happiness in the mix. Let me keep giving your eyes a reason to sparkle. Let me be your light.
-Your boyfriend, your Daddy, your friend, Emerson.
I slid the paper beneath his door, turned my back, and left. It was no less painful than the day before.
Day three, and I still hadn’t gotten a response from him. But I kept showing up. I kept being there for him, even if he didn’t want me to be. I couldn’t lose hope. Not now. Not ever. I wouldn’t give up on him.
I want to be there for you, Moon. Let me in. Let me hold your heart. Let me hold your pain, so it isn’t as heavy. I’ll come by again tomorrow.
-Your boyfriend, your Daddy, your friend, Emerson.
Day four. Fucking crickets.
I don’t know what to do anymore, Moon. I’m about to do a welfare check on you, I swear to god. The messy parts are what makes it beautiful. Don’t forget that.
-Your boyfriend, your friend, your Daddy, Emerson.
Day five.
You are capable of love. You are capable of being loved. You are allowed to need help. At the end of the day, I’m here, willing to hold all of your secrets, good and bad. I will hold your pieces. I will hold your heart.
You just have to open the door.
-Your boyfriend, Emerson.
Day six.
I was a fucking mess. There was still no word from Moon, and I’d been trying really hard to respect his wishes and not freak the fuck out, but that was becoming impossible.
I was ready to call Marcus to come check out his place or break his door down myself.
Neither of which would be within the respect for his wishes part.
Harrison had stopped talking to me before he died. I’d gone five days without busting his door down, finally trying to give him some space rather than worrying myself to death about him.
On the sixth day, I’d finally had enough. I was so full of worry and dread and pure anger at the fact that he couldn’t even return a call or text that I ended up busting his door anyway. And then I’d found him. Dead. On his bathroom floor, his body already cold to the touch.
I shook my head, trying to remind myself that Moon wasn’t Harrison.
It was unfair of me to compare them like that.
Moon had given me no reason to believe he’d harm himself.
So, I wrote a note and stuck it under his door, ignoring how I could hardly hear my pen marking against the paper over how loud the ringing was in my ears.
Remember that first day in the interrogation room? I’d promised you that you’d be okay. I meant it. You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it. No matter what I have to do. No matter how I have to do it.
-Emerson
I’d tried to sleep—I really did. I had to work at the crack of dawn, but I spent every moment tossing and turning, slowly losing my mind because the ringing in my ears was way too loud and blasting my fan, and the TV wasn’t covering it up well enough.
All I could think about was Moon. Moon and Harrison, and how on the sixth day, I’d lost everything, and today was the sixth day all over again. Fuck work. Fuck everything else. All that mattered was my brat, who was obviously hurting behind that goddamn door I’d grown to hate with a fiery passion.
The same door I was staring at now, burning an imaginary hole into it. It was late. Far too late for me to be banging against it again, which would definitely get me a noise complaint.
I tried my luck with the doorknob, knowing for a fact that Moon had a bad habit of keeping his door unlocked. To no one’s surprise, it turned easily. All I had to do was push, and it’d be open. But I was stuck.
If I walked in, there was no telling what I’d find.
Maybe Moon would be fine. Maybe he was safe and sound, asleep in his bed, and he’d be super annoyed and mad at me for walking in uninvited.
Or maybe, just maybe, he was gone. Whether in the life sense or the physical sense, it didn’t matter.
Either one would destroy me. I wasn’t sure if I was truly ready to face the truth, but I knew I’d do anything for him.
So, finally, I pushed the door open, letting it creak into the night. All the lights were off, and the blinds were closed. It was dark. Pitch black, confusing my eyes and brain as to what was what and what was where. I stumbled around for a moment, trying to gather myself.
I pulled my phone out, using the flashlight to sweep across the apartment, looking for any open doors or signs of life. What looked like takeout food was piled up on the coffee table, and clothes were strewn around on the floor. I walked toward the couch, studying everything I could see.
One pair of sweatpants was turned inside out, lying on the armrest. When I moved my phone closer, I noticed what looked like stains.
Blood stains.
Lines and drops of rust-colored, faded blood stains all along the pants’ legs.
My vision went blurry as my eyes unfocused, forcing me right back to that day. Harrison’s house had been dark, too. He’d shut himself in, locking the entire world out from being able to reach him. It was the first thing I’d noticed. The second was how much of a mess his place was.
Much like Moon’s apartment, Harrison had relied on takeout to get him through the days. Where he’d gotten the money, I wasn’t sure. The biggest difference was that Moon didn’t have a single beer can or whiskey bottle lying around as well.
I panned my flashlight over the doors once again. His bedroom door was shut, and I didn’t see any light pouring out of it. I turned and walked toward the hallway with the bathroom, noticing that door was shut too.
But there was light coming from the crack.
Just like Harrison.
My heart started to hammer against my chest, pounding and pounding, desperate to escape. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t fucking ready to face it. The possible horrors lying in wait behind that bathroom door. It was too much. So much, I didn’t know how to make my legs move.
I had no idea if any noise was coming from it. All I could hear was screaming static and loud bells chiming right in my eardrums. My head was buzzing with all the chaos, and my palms were starting to sweat.
I took it one step at a time, walking closer and closer to the bathroom door.
“Please, please, please…” I whispered to myself.
I didn’t know who I was begging to. I didn’t really care.
Maybe God could hear me for the first time in my entire life, and maybe he’d help me.
Help me not lose one more important person in my life, because if I did—if I lost Moon—I’d truly lose myself.
Grief followed me like a never-ending plague, waiting to pounce at any given moment. It was its own weapon, armed and ready to shoot me straight between the eyes.
But maybe that’d be more peaceful than going through this again.
Taking a deep breath, I gripped the doorknob and turned it. Once again, I was stuck like that, holding it in my hand, feeling the metal slip from my grip at how sweaty my palm was. Somehow, I gained the strength, prepared myself, and pushed the door.
And we both stared at each other in shock.