Caelyx
“What’s going on, Cupcake? You need me?” I asked, bringing my phone up to my ear. I half expected it to only be silent on the other end of the line. Maybe he’d rolled over onto his phone and butt dialed me or something.
I heard the sound of his shaky breathing, like he was scared or upset, and I shook my head to clear it and encourage my brain to wake up.
“I, um… I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. “I didn’t expect you to actually answer. Did I wake you up?”
“No,” I said quickly. “No, I was awake.” It was technically true. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he answered, and I knew it was a lie. But getting information from Aspen, especially information that painted him with any kind of vulnerability or weakness, was like pulling teeth. So I changed my strategy.
“Where are you?” I asked. “Where’s Ren? Is he with you?”
“He’s sleeping. I’m just outside our room in the hall. I didn’t want to keep him awake.”
“Okay,” I said, keeping my tone light and gentle. But I tucked my phone against my ear with my shoulder as I dragged on a pair of jeans. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” he insisted again. “I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry, Cupcake. I just want to know why you’re upset.”
Quietly slipping out of my room and through the living room, I closed the front door with a near-silent click behind me before engaging the lock and heading toward BBU.
“I’m not,” he lied again. “I’m just… I don’t know. It’s the middle of the night. I’m fucking tired.”
“You couldn’t sleep?” I guessed, and waited patiently for him to decide what he wanted to reveal, my long strides eating up the pavement as I made my way down the silent, empty street.
“My mom called me.”
“Is she alright? Did something happen?”
“She’s… Fine.” His voice cracked on the last word, just the tiniest bit, the sound wrenching its way into my ear and down to my chest, where it panged. I waited, hoping he would elaborate without further prompting from me. “She’s just… She’s not healthy and I can’t help.”
Was she sick? I was forced to realize that I knew basically nothing about his home life other than the fact that he’d been raised by a single mom and his family was really not well off financially.
During our freshman year, I’d overheard a conversation he’d had with Che, who also hadn’t grown up with the easiest home life, where they’d compared their experiences, all of which had sounded completely foreign and unbelievable to me.
But I’d known expressing that sentiment would only highlight our differences and help Aspen justify more distance between us, so I’d thankfully had the foresight to keep my mouth shut.
For once. I kind of wished that instinctive foresight would pop up more frequently for me, since it would probably make my life a hell of a lot easier.
But nothing had ever really motivated me like the compulsion to get to know Aspen, followed by the immediate craving to get him to like me.
Turns out prickly, moody, tattooed emo know-it-all boys whose emotions were guarded more carefully than fucking Fort Knox could really get under your skin and stay there. Who knew?
I’d wondered if finally convincing him to give me a shred of attention would calm that craving and make my feelings for him a little less intense, but it had only done the opposite.
Every time he was vulnerable with me, whether it was with his body or even just relaxing and laughing in my presence, it was making me even more crazy for him.
“What’s wrong with your mom?” I asked. When he didn’t answer for a long stretch of time, I went on. “Do you want to talk about it?”
It was quiet on campus as I maneuvered my way through the residential side and into Aspen’s dorm building, grateful the door had been left propped open. Our house was only a five minute walk away, even at the most leisurely pace, but I’d been rushing toward him.
“No,” he said after another long pause, as I’d expected. The sniffle that followed, so soft I almost didn’t register it, had me speeding up on the staircase that led to his hall. “I don’t know why I called. I feel stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” I told him. “You just didn’t want to be alone, right?”
“I…”
“Right?” I asked again, wanting him to say it.
“I guess,” he admitted.
I turned the corner into the hall that led to his room, and immediately saw him on the floor, with his back to the wall and his knees pulled up his chest.
“I’m here,” I said. He heard my voice, whipping his head over to face me, his wide eyes shocked and wet. I ended the call as I closed the rest of the distance between us, moving down the hall. He groaned, burying his face in his knees as I reached him.
“Why are you here?” He asked, voice muffled as he refused to look up at me. I sank down next to him, so our sides were flush together.
“You called,” I answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Because it was, to me. “You needed me.”
“You’re psychotic,” he responded into his own thighs.
I snorted, ducking my head down a bit so I could try to meet his eyes.
“Maybe so,” I admitted. “But you didn’t want to be alone, did you?”
It was a long time before he finally looked up at me, shaking his head slightly.
“No, I didn’t.”
Exploiting his now upright position, I slipped my arm around him, nudging his body off the wall a bit to force him to lean into me. It took a bit of wriggling and twisting my body to angle toward him, but he did finally shift into my side, relaxing a bit.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked one more time, and felt him shake his head once again.
“I really, really don’t,” he said.
“Okay.” I wouldn’t push him on it anymore. All that mattered was that he wasn’t on the verge of tears anymore and he wasn’t alone.
“I can’t believe you walked here,” he said, after a long stretch of silence where I’d mostly been making tiny micro-movements to get more of his body pressed against mine, somehow eventually succeeding enough to have his head resting against the spot between my chest and shoulder.
I had to bite back the urge to pull him all the way into my lap, soaking in the warmth of his body, breathing in the dark forest scent of his hair.
“It’s not a long walk or anything.”
“Still,” he reasoned. “You didn’t have to. I was fine.”
“Yeah, I know.” I kept my tone light and casual. I knew the last thing he wanted right now was anything intense or emotional from me. And I damn sure wasn’t going to risk pissing him off when I had him right where I wanted him. “Maybe I wanted to see you. Cold weather makes me clingy.”
He lifted his head to look into my eyes, his dark eyebrow cocked up.
He didn’t need to say anything, and neither did I.
He wasn’t going to admit that he’d needed someone, and I wasn’t going to call him out on it.
We sat in silence for awhile, once he’d let his head fall back down onto my shoulder.
I was pretty sure it was the closest thing to cuddling I was going to get from him, at least for the foreseeable future.
“Hey, Caelyx?” His voice was soft and sleepy now, like the adrenaline rush of emotions caused by whatever had upset him was starting to wear off and exhaustion was starting to catch up to him.
“Yeah?”
“What are your parents like?”
The question surprised me, as I couldn’t recall him asking me a single thing about my personal life ever, family or otherwise. It was on his mind because of whatever was going on with his mom, I was sure. I hoped it wasn’t too bad.
“Mm, my dad’s a business exec. I think you probably already knew that,” I mused, and felt his mouth curve against my shoulder as he smiled.
“My mom…” I paused. I wasn’t exactly sure what to say about her.
Most days, I felt like I barely knew her.
I had more childhood memories involving my live-in nanny than her.
And truth be told, she’d never taken much of an interest in me.
“She’s kind of a trophy wife, I guess. She’s with him for all his press stuff, but most of the time she’s just planning her next vacation. ”
“You’re not close with her?” He asked.
“I’m not close with either of them,” I said. “My dad thinks I’m a total screwup, and I don’t even think she knows my name most of the time. She’s got kind of a pop and pour habit, if you know what I mean.”
“Pop and pour?” He repeated.
“Pop a pill, pour another glass of wine.”
He lifted his head to lock eyes with me in an intense stare, his eyebrows furrowing together.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
“Nah, it’s fine, Cupcake,” I assured him.
I’d come to terms with all that before I’d even graduated from high school.
Taking advantage of the sympathetic look in his pretty hazel eyes, I reached out and brushed a lock of his hair off his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.
“At the end of the day, I’m lucky. I know that.
” I felt particularly lucky in that specific moment.
He didn’t disagree with me, but the soft look in his eyes didn’t fade either, before he ducked his head and tucked back into my chest. He’d gone limp, practically laying on me now.
I wondered how long I’d have to sit there for him to fall asleep in my lap.
He was like a cat, a moody one that was stingy with his attention, so disturbing him felt out of the question.
“Did you eat that cake pop?” He asked, and the corner of my mouth quivered, just like when he’d given it to me. I was glad he wasn’t looking at my face this time, so he didn’t get mad again.
“Yeah,” I lied. “It was really, really good. Thank you.” I couldn’t eat it, but I’d have taken a bullet before admitting that to him, when he’d been so sweet for me.
“You’re welcome.”