Chapter Seven #2
No one should be that lonely. No one should feel like a guest in their own home. Like they have to sneak around and wait their turn and make themselves small, so they don’t inconvenience the people who are supposed to love them most.
Archie’s friends are probably causing absolute chaos in their own homes; stealing the remote, getting drunk on weekends, spending entire days in bed recovering, and making stupid decisions they’ll laugh about for years.
That’s what twenty should look like… loud, messy, and reckless; full of memories you’ll both regret and cherish.
But Archie? He’s abnormally… good and mature. He ran himself into the ground today and still made sure to do his laundry before relaxing; so his mom doesn’t have to.
My eyes start to burn. God, kid… how has this been going on right under my nose?
He’s in his prime. He should be out making stupid decisions, chasing girls, or boys, staying out too late, failing spectacularly at things and laughing about it later.
Instead, he’s sitting here in the dark at 8:55pm like he’s afraid of disturbing the peace of the house.
I have to blink hard a couple times, swallowing the lump in my throat. My chest feels tight, almost painful. He deserves better than this; he deserves to feel wanted, spoiled, and fucking seen. And the fucked up part is… I want to be the one to give him that.
I sit here for another long moment, chest aching, before my voice comes out quiet and almost broken. “Archie… come here please.”
Archie mutes the TV immediately, head turning toward me. He looks thrown off; not by the request, but by the way I said it. It wasn’t a demand, it wasn’t an order, it was just… a plea. I’m silently praying he doesn’t turn me down.
He nods slowly, a concerned little frown creasing his brow. He sets the remote down and stands, walking over carefully like he’s approaching a wounded animal. He sits on the far end of the couch, still giving me space.
“You okay?” he asks softly. “Do you want me to leave? I can go to my room…”
I let out a wet, broken little sob of a laugh.
Archie’s eyes widen. “Oh, sorry… I didn’t…”
I wave my hand quickly, cutting him off, because even now… even when I’m clearly hurting, for him… he immediately assumes he’s the problem. That he should disappear into his room, so he doesn’t bother anyone.
Jesus Christ, kid. I can’t speak right now; my throat is too tight.
So, I just reach over, grab his arm, and tug.
Archie resists for half a second, that stubborn, careful part of him, before he lets out a quiet, unreadable sigh and lets me pull him in.
I guide him until he’s straddling my lap, knees on either side of my thighs.
I don’t do anything sexual; I just wrap my arms around him tightly and slide one hand up to the back of his neck, pulling his head down so it rests on my shoulder.
His damp hair brushes my jaw. I hold him there, one hand stroking slowly up and down his back, the other cradling his neck like something precious.
I just want him to feel it… to feel seen and wanted and cared for. I hold him like that for a long time, just breathing him in, before I gently push Archie upright so I can see his face.
I cup his cheeks with both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. His eyes… they’re so deep, so sad. There’s an emptiness in them where a twinkle should be, where life and mischief and youth should be shining. I close my own eyes for a second, trying to steady myself.
“Colt?” Archie whispers, voice small. “What’s going on?”
I open my eyes again and look at him, really look at him, and the words come out rough and unsteady. “I want you to know that I see you, Archie,” I say quietly, my voice cracking. “I finally see you. And it’s killing me.”
I stroke my thumbs across his cheeks, watching fresh tears gather in his eyes.
“I didn’t know… I didn’t know you’ve been carrying this for so long.
That you’ve been walking around this house feeling like a guest. Like you have to earn your place.
Like you can’t ask for anything because you’re scared of being too much.
I hate that you’ve been lonely, baby. I hate that you’ve been quiet about it for so long.
You lost your dad… and instead of falling apart like you had every right to, you made yourself small so you wouldn’t burden your mom. So you wouldn’t burden me.”
Archie’s breath hitches as tears slip down his cheeks, but he doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, barely blinking, completely raw.
“I’m so sorry your dad didn’t get to see you run tonight,” I whisper.
“He would’ve been so fucking proud. The way you moved…
the way you lit up out there. I’m proud as hell that I got to be there; that I got to watch you do something you love so much.
You’re incredible, Archie. You’re smart, you’re strong, you’re kind…
and you deserve to take up space. You deserve to be loud.
You deserve to be selfish sometimes. You deserve someone who reminds you every single day how fucking amazing you are. ”
I rest my forehead against his, voice dropping even softer. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re in the way again. Not in this house, not with me. I see you now… and I’m here, Archie… I’m right here.”
Archie doesn’t say a word. He just sits there in my lap, tears falling silently, lips pressed tight together like he’s trying not to break.
He looks so vulnerable; so heartbreakingly young.
Like no one has ever really seen the weight he’s been carrying since he was fourteen.
I hope, more than anything, that he feels even a little bit of comfort in this moment.
I just hold him for a while. Archie curls against my chest, silently crying; trying so hard to be quiet, still thinking about not waking his mom even now. It breaks my heart and makes me proud of him at the same time.
After a few minutes I pull back again; I smile at him, soft and a little sad. “Sorry for upsetting you, Arch. I just needed you to know I see you, baby.”
He nods, eyes wide and wet, lips pressed tightly together like he doesn’t trust his voice.
I grin as much as I can through the heaviness in my chest. “You don’t want to talk?”
He shakes his head almost comically, lips still sealed.
I let out a quiet breath and stand, keeping him in my arms. His legs instinctively wrap around my waist. I hike him up higher, hands under his thighs, and carry him like he’s something precious.
His head drops heavily onto my shoulder, all the energy draining out of him.
His crying has slowed, but he probably needed that.
I don’t bother turning off the TV. It’ll shut itself off soon anyway, and it’s muted. I flip the light off with my elbow and carry him slowly upstairs, careful not to jostle him.
I pause outside my bedroom door, listening; Sarah’s still snoring gently, good.
Then keep going down the hall and gently kick Archie’s bedroom door shut behind us.
I manage to twist the lock without dropping him, then walk over and carefully lay him down on his bed, and pull the covers over him.
I don’t want to invade his space, so I kneel beside the bed, just watching him curl up small under the blanket.
Archie’s voice is barely a whisper. “You should go to bed, Colt.”
I tilt my head and reach out, gently stroking his damp hair. “Is that what you want, Archie? For me to go?”
He doesn’t answer right away, he just inhales shakily; that hesitation tells me everything. Eventually he nods, like he thinks that’s the right thing to say.
I shake my head softly. “Archie… what do you really want?”
His lip trembles, before he rolls over, pulling the covers up to his chin. His whole body starts shaking again as fresh tears come, still trying so hard to stay quiet.
I stand up, still fully dressed, and lift the covers. I slide in behind him and pull his back against my chest, wrapping my arms around him tightly. Pressing a long kiss to the top of his head.
“I’m right here, baby,” I murmur against his hair. “It’s okay.”
Archie nods, a tiny, relieved movement, and tucks himself closer to me like he’s grateful I stayed.