Page 96 of Antidote

I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but Dylan has a point. What if Hunter does fall in love with someone else? What if I’m replaced, and there’s no more Hunt and Ollie? Fuck, I don’t even want to think about how that would make me feel, but surely it wouldn’t be good. I thought I was doing a great job at life lately, but it seems I’m still holding my breath through it all.

I’m surviving. Putting one foot in front of the other. I know what I’m waiting for—Hunter. It’s obvious even to me; I just don’t know how to come to terms with it. What if we’re broken beyond repair? Maybe we’ve been doomed from the start.

But I guess I’ll never know until I try.

And just like that I decide I will finally reply and ask him to meet up.

Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

The city is beautiful tonight—as it is every night. However, it feels different with the snow on the ground and snowflakes falling everywhere. I’m not complaining. I love it. The only downside is that it reminds me of Ollie. How much he wanted to experience all the seasons and how he couldn’t do that in North Carolina. I wasn’t able to attend the exhibit Dad gave me the address to since I had to play in another state. Only I’m here now, a week later, at a new exhibit. And it feels like I can’t fucking breathe.

I close my eyes and attempt to take a deep breath, my hands shaking as the cab approaches the gallery. What if he sees me and kicks me out? What if he doesn’t give me the time of day?

I dial Dad’s number and press call, then wait for him to answer. After only two rings, he picks up. Conrad knows I never call him anymore, so it must be important.

He’s waiting for me to say something, so I blow out a shaky breath and tell him, “I think I’m making the wrong decision. I’m on my way to the gallery. But what if he doesn’t want me there, Dad? What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he hates me for not trying harder?—”

“Breathe,” Conrad barks. “You’re being dramatic.”

I huff. “I’m not fucking dramatic,” I growl. “I’m scared.”

“Well, don’t be,” he says softly. “That boy was so in love with you it’s disgusting.”

Was.

I remember the look of disgust on my dad’s face last year and flinch. He clears his throat as if he can tell exactly what’s going through my mind. But the image won’t leave me. Maybe it was a terrible idea to call him.

“If you want him back…don’t give him a choice.” I laugh at that, but he just continues. “He simply needs a little reminder of who he’s supposed to be with.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” I ask with furrowed brows. “Is he dating someone?”

“He’s dating,” he replies. “Although I think it’s casual.”

“You think?” I laugh bitterly. “I’m going after him, and you don’t know?”

“All is fair in love and whatever the fuck.” This time, my laugh is genuine, and he chuckles too. “Go get our boy, Hunter. Bring him back.”

“The only way he’d come back to your house is in a casket.” I joke, but when Dad coughs, I realize maybe it wasn’t as funny as I thought. “Okay. That was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right.” I can just imagine his grimace. “I asked him to come for Christmas, but he said he would think about it.”

“Why are you just now telling me this?”

“He’s not coming,” he replies simply. “Didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Did he say he’s not coming?” I ask slowly, clenching my fist.

“He said he would think about it.” I nod and he sighs. “Which is code for he’s not coming.”

“Don’t write him off so soon,” I say with determination. I’m going to get him back. I’m going to convince him we belong together. “I’ll see what I can do.”

My dad chuckles. “You do that, son.”

“Bye, Dad.”

I don’t wait for him to reply, I just hang up. How does he put up with my shit? I’m so mean to him sometimes; it’s a wonder how he still talks to me. Then again, he literally has no one else. He hasn’t dated again since Mom passed away. He drowns himself in his work, and he’s damn good at it, but fuck…he needs a life too.

---