Frustration -SERIES- [Part 2] Headphones & Reveries [boyxboy]

Chapter Twenty

I got up before him the next morning and went to sit in the living room quietly. I was the first person to wake up and I settled myself gingerly on one of the couches with a cup of coffee, my knees pulled up in front of me, staring into the middle distance. I felt even more raw than I had before; every muscle was aching like I had the flu.

Slowly the others started to emerge from their rooms, helping themselves to caffeine and ordering breakfast.

My heart jumped in my chest when I heard my bedroom door opening; my chair was facing the opposite direction but I could sense Conor moving up behind me and as he passed I reached out instinctively, completely unsure of what I was doing, and grabbed his arm. He stopped and looked down at me as I slowly turned his wrist over to see a deep, painful-looking bite mark impressed on the skin. I ran my thumb over it lightly before bringing his arm up and pressing my lips against it; then dropped his arm and poured all of my attention back into my coffee cup, unable to look at him. He hesitated for a second but I guess decided not to push it, turning and making his way into the kitchen to join the others. I knew they had all seen what had happened and were forming thoughts and opinions about what it "meant" but I continued to ignore them, sipping my drink and refusing to make eye contact with anybody.

After a couple of minutes Rachel came to join me on the couch and said quietly, 'That was really kind.'

I shrugged, making it clear I didn't want to talk about it.

'So what are your plans for today?' she asked, changing the subject.

I shrugged again. 'Piaf emailed me; I have a couple of meetings this morning, turns out it's not too late to get snapped up for Fashion Week.'

'Oh, that's exciting!' Rachel beamed, squeezing my arm. 'You're going to actually walk in runway shows?'

'I guess.' I shifted slightly. 'It might be better... I mean... I don't know how comfortable I'm going to be in front of a camera anymore.'

Rachel nodded understandingly, biting her lip. 'Have you talked to Chloe at all about... That?'

I shook my head. 'I mean, I'm sure she'd be able to give me an awesome pep talk that would have me feeling calm and confident about it for about twenty minutes or until I actually had to go to a shoot and had some sort of PTSD-style flashback.'

Rachel shook her head. 'I wish I had the authority to drag you to therapy,' she muttered, and I managed a weak grin.

'That's the real reason I'm not telling him,' I joked. She rolled her eyes.

'Are you going to the meetings alone?' she asked. 'I can come with you if you like.'

I shook my head. 'No, that's okay. I think it might be time to put my big boy pants on and start acting like, you know, an adult.'

Rachel's expression told me she had about a thousand different things to say on my efforts at adulthood so far, but chose to keep them to herself. I knew she was right - an adult wouldn't really be behaving the way I had been for the past week, but I had to start somewhere.

Which was the other side of the coin. A week. A week exactly. It didn't feel like I had put any time and distance between me and what had happened to me and there was something about passing a milestone that made me feel more hopeless than ever. If not now, then when? Why weren't the feelings of panic and urgency and desperation abating at all? I felt wound up tight like a Karel Grod toy.

'Well, call me when you're finished and we can get lunch or something, okay? We've been here for over a week and I still haven't seen Times Square, so let's go there.'