77. Kaden
Kaden
I wake up in my own apartment for the first time in weeks, but I’m not there mentally. I don’t know where my mind is at anymore.
When I got home yesterday, I dropped off my shit, then went straight down to the basement and punched the bag until my knuckles turned red and bruised, and I felt nothing. I’m like a fucking shadow, just floating around. And nothing makes sense.
When I get to work, I pause right outside for a beat and take a deep breath, bracing myself, before I place a hand on the door handle, and open it. I walk inside, expecting to see Seth behind the counter, but it’s just Iggy.
“Hey! Welcome back,” she says, as Kit appears in the back-doorway.
“Hey,” I say, while glancing around the studio.
“Where’s Seth?” Iggy says, looking at me.
“What?”
“He’s still out of town,” Kit says. “He’s off this week. Family emergency.” He glances at Iggy and then at me where his gaze lingers.
“What?” Iggy’s eyes grow wide. “Why? What’s wrong?” She turns to me, expecting me to have any answers, but I don’t so I glance at Kit.
“Nothing serious,” he says. “Everyone’s okay. He needed some time off, is all.”
“Kaden?” Iggy looks at me. “Do you know anything? Did something happen on the trip?”
I just shake my head, dropping my gaze. Kit turns and walks back out to his office. I pick up my phone, acting like it’s captivating as fuck, ignoring Iggy’s gaze and questions behind me as I follow Kit. Eyes still glued to my phone.
He’s behind his desk when I enter his office, and as I close the door behind me, he looks up.
“What emergency?” I ask.
“He didn’t say.” He leans back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach and stares at me. “How was the trip?”
“Is anyone hurt? Or sick? Is Seth okay?”
“Shouldn’t you know that?” His eyes are penetrating and I shift on my feet before I drop my gaze to the floor.
“Everything was fine when I left.” Lie. Nothing’s fine. Everything’s fucked up.
“Why didn’t you come back together?”
I press my lips together, crossing my arms and glance away. I see Kit nod in my periphery.
“Right.” He straightens and faces the laptop. “Then maybe you should pick up the phone and ask him yourself.”
I unlock the front door and walk inside. It looks the same as when we left, but it feels empty. My duffel bag lands on the floor with a thump, and then it’s just quiet.
Everything’s so fucking quiet.
I’ve a tight feeling in my chest. Like something’s wrong with my heart. Like it beats at a different pace than before. It’s faster and slower at the same time. It makes me anxious.
I walk to the bedroom. One of my hoodies is still lying on the footboard bench at the end of the bed, right next to one of Seth’s tees. Black and white.
Day and night.
I swallow and continue into the bathroom. I turn the shower on before I strip and step under the spray, trying to wash away something that’s not there. I feel cold and the water isn’t helping.
My knuckles sting from the water. Everything stings. Everything hurts.
I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the tile, breathing in the scents around me—woodsy body wash, and almond. And that hurts too.
Three days. It’s been three fucking days since that night in the snow when everything turned upside down. Three days since I last saw or heard anything from Seth. In the six years we’ve known each other, I’ve never gone so long without him.
I walk past the store on my way from work, before I turn around and go in. I’m on autopilot—I need to just get in and out, like this is any other day. Staring unseeing at the items before me while there’s a turmoil inside me, feelings and thoughts are wreaking havoc, fighting for first place.
I’m angry and sad, and lonely, but most of all, I’m fucking scared. Scared I’ll never see him again. That we—I—took it too far. I can’t get the picture of his tear-filled blue eyes out of my head. He looked so hurt—but he fucking hurt me too.
And then I’m mad again with all these thoughts running through my head.
How the fuck didn’t I see it? Did I really think nothing would change between us?
And how could he have kept this from me?
And for how long? Years? How could he do that to me?
To us? How could I do this to us? It was my stupid fucking idea, but I didn’t think—
“Hey, Kaden!”
I’m pulled out of my thoughts and look over my shoulder at the person standing a few feet away in the aisle, seeing Jude. A big smile on his face, and shopping basket in hand.
“Got a sweet tooth?” he asks, nodding at the object in my hand. I glance down at the packet of cherry ropes. I don’t know how long I’ve stood here with it in hand.
“Hey, are you alright?” he asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off and frown at him until he takes a step back.
“Sorry. You look…” He cocks his head. “Is everything okay?” No, you motherfucker, nothing’s okay. Okay?
“I’m fine,” I grit out through my teeth.
He nods, and takes a few steps back. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it.” And before he turns around and walks off, he adds, “Say hi to Seth for me.” And I see red. Or black, or green or whatever the hell it is people see when they’re filled with a fury that can’t be explained.
Like fucking hell will I tell Seth fucking Jude said hi.
Seth is mine!
He’s fucking mine.
He’s…
I glance down at the candy in my hand, and suddenly I’m hit with a pang in my chest, and I’m assaulted with images rushing through my head so fast, I almost trip. I can’t make sense of them and then… Seth.
My Seth. My best friend. My person. Mine.
His blue eyes, like sapphire.
His dimple when he shoots me that lopsided smile.
How he throws his head back when he laughs.
His hoarse voice.
His hands, arms, chest.
His lips—that fucking pouty bottom lip.
My heart starts racing and I’m assaulted with more sensations.
How he feels in my arms.
His soft—so fucking soft—skin.
His taste.
His scent.
His—
Oh shit! Jesus, fucking fuck!
I drop the candy on the floor and then I speed-walk out of the store. As soon as I exit, I start running. Sprinting all the way, and up the stairs, heart in my throat.
Please, be back. Please, be back. Please, be back.
I fight with shaking hands to get the key in the lock before I fling the door open.
“Seth!”
I almost trip on my duffel bag still lying by the door where I dumped it the other day as I run from the hallway into the living room and kitchen. It’s empty.
Fuckfuckfuck!
I know he’s not here even before I turn around and run into the bedroom, and check the bathroom. But where the hell is he? And what the fuck have I done?
I tug at my hair, heart racing, and fuck, I’m so stupid.
I’m so goddamn stupid!
There’s a manic huffing laugh leaving me, and then I crouch on the floor, still tugging at my hair. And I feel like I’m back in my basement, with images of Seth running through my head, like when everything started.
And I can’t fucking breathe.
Two days later, I’m lying in the bed. The duvet’s pulled up to my ears, and I press my face into the white hoodie. Inhaling, I squeeze my eyes closed. The scent is wearing off after sleeping with it for the past five days. It’s not the same. Nothing’s the same anymore.
I tried calling Seth before, but was sent straight to voice mail, and I got so mad I threw my phone at the wall. The feeling in my chest hasn’t gone away. It only gets worse.
I hug the pillow and the hoodie, and try to force sleep to come. But it doesn’t. Not this night either.
It’s been six days.
Last night I went into the bathroom, digging through the drawers like a mad man. I found what I was looking for in the far back. It was almost empty, but I squeezed some out into my hand and smeared it over my forearm, pressing my nose there and inhaling.
It’s not the same. It’s not right. It’s not him.
I’m on the couch, hunched forward, elbows on my knees, resting my mouth against my clasped fists, when the front door clicks. My heart skips a beat and my breathing picks up.
He’s here.