A Little Bit Of Joy | ✔

Chapter Twelve : The Mother Who Cried

Logan looked petrifying today with a repugnant odour surrounding him. His eyes were droopy and his clothes scruffy and unkempt. His hair was a tangled mess, the kind where you touch it and your finger would get stuck. There was a dark stubble on his jaw because he hadn't shaved in a while and it looked horrendous. He didn't look one bit good and I didn't blame him. It didn't take me a long while to figure out that he wasn't in his best mental health- depression was ugly.

However, I was wondering what had suddenly happened to him today?

"Hey, you alright?" I asked cautiously and he just shrugged as if he was physically present but mentally absent. "You can ask my grandpa for a day off if you're sick."

"No," he cut me off dismissively because it seemed that he wanted to prove to me that he was fine.

"Okay, you don't have to come over to my place for lunch. I can tell mum."

"No," he said forcefully and added with emphasis, "I'm alright."

Those words felt like it held little to no meaning since I could see through his expressions that he was trying to convince himself too that he was fine.

I didn't want to push him so I simply nodded. "As you wish."

Time flew quickly at the shop, Logan remaining awfully silent and me carrying on with my usual smile and chatting to customers, but in the back of my mind, I was wondering what triggered Logan to show up looking so appalling. He was starting to care less again about his life and this frightened me to the bones. I knew that I couldn't magically fix him, but I could gently push him to fix himself.

Grandpa wasn't going to come over for lunch and was keener on looking after the shop even when there were zero customers during the afternoon. Logan and I left for home, not on my bicycle, but walking steadily. I tried to strike a conversation, slyly trying to pry for information, but his replies were curt and forced.

We arrived at my home and I hurriedly led Logan to my room before my mum or anyone else could spot him. I slammed the door shut and rummaged through my drawers, while Logan blankly stood rooted on his spot. I found Shaun's spare deodorant and shifted my attention to Logan who gave me a perplexed look.

"I can't let my family see you like this, I'm sorry," I said reproachfully and started spraying the deodorant all over him, almost emptying the bottle and he coughed rapidly. I retrieved a comb from the dressing shelf and handed it to him in a rushing speed. "Comb your hair."

He grudgingly took it and ran the comb through his hair a few times until it looked decent enough.

"You have to iron your shirt too, it looks awful," I pointed out and he scowled. "If you think I'm being extra and my questions are attacking, then my family is on the next level, especially my mum. In fact, only my mum. Others will just stare at you, but my mum already likes you and she would start worrying about you. Extra worrying."

"Okay, I get it," he muttered and tossed the comb on the bed when I gave him the electronic iron machine.

"You know to iron your clothes, right?" I asked and he nodded. "Okay, cool, perfect. Also, you can wash your face in the bathroom and-whoa wait . . . "

Logan had a startled expression on his face as he stopped halfway unbuttoning his shirt.

"Erm-hold on, let me get a-a outta here," I said tremulously, my cheeks flaming and there was a strained silence. The awkwardness became so painful as I fled the room, giggling nervously which made the situation worse. I could finally breathe once I was out of the suffocating room and I exhaled audibly.