36. Seth
Seth
Kaden’s been home from work all week. And he won’t let anyone come see him.
It’s not COVID, it’s just a cold, but he’s been manic. I’ve been over a few times, but he only takes the bags of food and closes the door before I can say anything. And that won’t do.
It’s Friday, and I’m done with my last customer early afternoon, so I clean up and hurry home. I take a quick shower, get dressed and then I make a pit stop at Trader Joe’s, picking up all of his favorite food and snacks.
He opens the door in sweats and a Henley, looking freshly showered, but sporting huge, dark circles under his eyes.
“Hey, babe.” I tilt my head, going for a cautious smile.
“Sup?”
“Brought you some food,” I say, holding the bag up. “You hungry?”
“Thanks,” he says. I step into his apartment before he can take the bag from me and shut me out.
I help him put the groceries away before we make it over to his couch and he goes to lie down.
“How’re you feeling?” I ask, scooting his feet over to sit.
“Okay. I’m just so fucking tired. And my head hurts.”
“You’ve taken something for that?”
“Yeah, couple of hours ago.” He sighs, pressing two fingers to his eyes. “How’s work?”
“Good.” I nod.
“Yeah? Kit’s not mad?”
I frown. “Why would he be mad?”
“I don’t know,” he says, sighing again.
He looks so small lying there, and I know this week must’ve been hell on him. I debate with myself for a second. I know what I would’ve wanted if I were in his shoes right now, but I’m not him, so I can’t be sure. Do guys do this? Is it—
Ugh, fuck it! Shut your brain off, loser, and do it.
I stand up, walking over to him. “Scoot!”
“What?”
“Make room.”
He frowns, but shuffles a bit so I can lie down next to him. It’s a tight fit, but he doesn’t seem to mind. We’re face to face, and this up close, the circles under his eyes looks even worse.
I start combing my fingers through his hair. “My mom used to do this when I was sick,” I say. “Or sad.”
“Feels nice,” he whispers, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath. His hair’s still a little damp, and he smells so much like Kaden—clean, and safe and manly. I inhale deeply, trying to save it for later.
“I know I’m crazy.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but I know I am,” he mumbles. “I panicked. I thought I was gonna die. Like legit. I couldn’t breathe.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
He shrugs. “I called Mom, and she called Stephanie.”
His mom’s cousin. She’s a nurse.
“And then, by the time she got here, it had passed, and I felt like a fucking idiot for making her drive all the way out here for nothing.”
“You’re not an idiot. And it wasn’t for nothing.”
“It was a cold,” he says, opening his eyes to look at me. “I feel like those guys who complains about having a cold when their wives are squeezing a melon-sized human out of their—”
I snort. “Okay, so next time, you call me instead.”
He moves a little, resting his arm on my hip, closing his eyes again.
“I’m tired,” he whispers.
Yeah, having a panic attack will do that to you.
Ask me how I know.
I continue combing my fingers through his hair until his breathing evens out and his arm grows heavy on me.
I allow myself a few more minutes of just touching him like this. Of looking at him without him knowing it. His eyelashes casts shadows over his cheeks in the dim light. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, making his usual scruff more pronounced.
I want to trace my finger along the curve of his eyebrow, down his straight nose, and his full lips. I love his lips. I know what it’s like to kiss them. They’re even softer than they look.
And I’m in deep, deep shit.
I’ve built my walls carefully, meticulously, brick by brick. And he disintegrates each and every one of them by just existing. He doesn’t even know it. And I hate that I lie to him every damn day. I hate it. But I can’t stop. I can’t tell him.
I stop my hand, gently lifting his arm off me and he stirs.
“What’re you doing?” he mumbles.
“I’m going home. Let you get some sleep.”
He grabs hold of my sweater. “Stay,” he whispers.
And who am I to deny this guy?
I can’t. That’s the thing. I fucking can’t.
So, I move back and tuck myself in next to him. He places his arm around me, and falls asleep again within the next couple of minutes.
Sometime during the night, he wakes me up, and I’m half asleep when we wander off into his bedroom. Don’t even bother taking off my clothes before I hit the pillow and drift off again.
“Where’s Kaden?” Iggy stands with her hands on her hips, frowning at me.
“Home, I’d presume,” I say, wiping down the counter.
It’s cleaning Saturday, and Kaden’s not here. I, on the other hand, had been here for three hours already when Iggy walked in. I woke up at the ass crack of dawn with Kaden curled around me, and I just had to leave.
I went straight here.
Figured I might as well clean this place down while rinsing my mind of anything Kaden related.
Surprise—it didn’t work.
“Oh, my god. He’s got a cold! He’s not dying. Fucking man-baby!” Iggy states, throwing her arms out.
I stop in my tracks, lick my bottom lip, staring at her. “You know Zach got sick last year?”
“His brother? Yeah?” She shakes her head.
“Did you know he was on ventilator?”
“What? Isn’t he like… thirty?”
“Twenty-eight. At the time. They didn’t know if he was gonna make it. Found out he’s got a heart condition that almost killed him.”
“Oh, my god,” she says, placing a hand over her mouth. “I’m an asshole.”
“Yeah, you are,” I say, and pick up the rag again. “But so am I, so you’re in good company.”