Page 48 of Bound By Obsession

“Go upstairs and relax. I’ve got it from here,” Garrett finally breaks the silence between us and jerks his chin towards the stairs. I freeze, a tub of ice cream in hand. He relieves me of it and instantly turns his back before I can get a read on his expression. He might as well have slapped me across the face. Huxley avoids my confused gaze, so I take a few steps away. It’s like ripping my heart out of my chest. What did I do wrong?

I drag my sorry ass up the stairs, pausing outside a few doors along the way. I could seek comfort in someone else, but not even that feels right. I don’t want to see anyone, or moreover, I don’t want anyone to see me on the verge of tears and start asking questions. Entering mine and Garrett’s room, if it even is that anymore, I head straight into the bathroom and lock the door.

We’re breaking up. That’s what this is. I don’t know if we were ever really together, but the finality of it hits me like a ton of bricks. Stopping in front of the mirror hanging on thefar wall, I close my eyes at my own reflection. I can’t look at myself right now, from the eyes that have received one too many compliments to the shaven head I cling to like a smooth teether when life seems to evade my grasp. Just when I thought the panic attacks were my only concern, Garret has gone and done what he always promised. He’s thrown me away, trusting Avery to pick up the pieces.

That’s all I am. What I’ve always been. An object to be passed around. I swallow hard, mentally preparing before flicking those hazel eyes open once more. Whatever I was hoping to happen, didn’t. All I see is that weak, fourteen-year old boy I once was staring back. Some days it’s easier to pretend he’s a distant memory, and today is not one of those days. I pace back and forth across the fluffy circular mat that sits beside the bathtub.

The ensuite is almost as big as the bedroom. Aside from a shower cubicle tucked into the corner, the overly large tub sits proudly in the center, facing towards a huge window. Being on the end of the house, the forest stretches across the horizon, thousands of glimmering stars covering the midnight blanket above. Being this far from a busy city life is an ideal break from glaring artificial lights and noisy crowds. Add in the campfire, the small town and simple way of living, a part of me would gladly stay here for good. But I know better than anyone, my nightmares will follow me anywhere. The view doesn’t matter if the turmoil I carry lives inside my head.

I should have done a better job at guarding my heart. But the way he looks at me sometimes steals the breath from my lungs. He knows me better than anyone else. He knows what I need without me having to ask.

I switch on the shower and strip out of my jeans and polo top. Entering the cubicle and closing the glass door behind me, I relish the cool spray of water raining down upon my shaved head. Using the shower gel, I lather the back of my neck andshoulders, trying to conjure happy images before the impending reality of what awaits in my room hits. Namely, an empty bed and all of my hopes crushed to dust.

In every scenario I can imagine, from a basketball game to picnics in luscious green parks or dinner at five-star restaurants, Garrett is in each one with me. With his wide smile and floppy brown hair that doesn’t have a favored side to rest on. His endless dark color of his eyes and contractionary lighthearted humor. Garrett can hide behind his bullshit jokes, but he was the first person to ever truly see me. I thought that meant something.

Stepping out of the shower, I pull a brown towel from the folded stack on a nearby shelf, roughly rubbing the material over my head. By the time I secure the towel around my waist, I’m feeling no less defeated and exit into the main room.

Garrett is waiting for me. Clothes have been laid out on the bed, which he gestures to before running a hand into his floppy brown hair. His dark eyes downcast, shifting nervously on the other side of the bed separating us. I stop, my heart slowly sinking. This is really it.

“Don’t overthink this, don’t ask questions. I hate labels. Just get dressed and meet me on the porch,” he says bluntly, shifting towards the door already. I frown, not taking my eyes off his. I want him to look at me, to explain.

“What’s happening?”

Garrett sighs in frustration and closes the gap between us so quickly, I fight the urge to step back. Covering my mouth with his hand, his pained eyes finally land on mine. “What did I just say? No questions.”

I swallow, attracting attention to my Adam’s apple. I can’t get a grapple on Garrett’s expression, but he’s not smiling so it can’t be good. In fact, he seems strangely on edge; his body language is rigid and breathing slightly labored. Stepping backand lowering his hand, he holds up his palm with all fingers stretched out.

“Porch, five minutes.” With that, he disappears through the doorway in a rush. I stare after him for a moment, then down to the clothes he’s laid out on the bed. Nothing fancy, a pair of navy tracksuit shorts, plain gray T-shirt and no boxers. My frown has yet to lift. Pulling the items on, I throw the damp towel into the laundry basket in the corner and sit on the edge of the bed to wait the full five minutes as requested.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Garrett flustered. He’s usually the most confident of us all. He hides himself deep inside to stop others from seeing his vulnerable side. Even I barely see it. Waiting an extra minute for good measure, I leave the room and head down the staircase. It’s late evening so the rest of the house is silent, only the groan of the wood beneath my feet penetrating the air. Passing through the living room and kitchen, I emerge onto the back porch where a faint flickering light catches my attention.

Small lit candles trail the banister leading to the built-in porch swing. A thick blanket covers the seat with a bowl of popcorn placed in the center. Garrett walks up the steps, a meter-long indent in the sand that shows I’m not the only one who’s been pacing. Avoiding my eye contact, he points to the swing for me to take a seat but I remain where I am.

“Sit in the swing, Axel.” He tries to use his Dom voice on me. I cross my arms and raise a brow.

“Why?”

“Because I-” he blurts out, almost angrily, before quickly regaining his composure. Rolling his tongue over his teeth, Garrett exhales and tries again. “I would very much enjoy it if you sat your ass on that fucking seat so I can casually sit next to you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling. This isn’t a breakup. Garrett would never put so much effort into it if it was - he’d just jump out of a window and start a new life in a different country. To him, that would be easier than explaining himself.

“Is this a date?”

“No!” Garrett flinches and finally looks up at me. He appears to be in a state of anguish, his eyes sunken and hair even more wild than usual. “It’s just a mutual gathering between two b...bros.” I take my bottom lip into my mouth, that smile fiercely trying to creep out but I’m having way too much fun. Ten minutes ago, I was waving my life goodbye. Now I’m trying my best not to explode with laughter.

“Okay,bro. You can guide me to my seat.” I hold out my hand like a princess, and Garrett’s stunned expression is so worth it. Anyone would think I just offered to run him through with a machete.

“Can you not just-” Garrett groans, jerking his chin towards the swing a few times. I shake my head. Cursing under his breath, Garrett stomps up the wooden steps dividing us and takes my hand. I make sure it stays up in the air like a real lady, and when he lowers me into my seat, I hold it up until he kisses the back of it.

“Was that so hard?”

“Fuck off.” I chuckle. Not the best etiquette for a date but I am one hundred percent certain this is the first date Garrett has ever been on so I’ll let him off. Lifting the blanket, Garrett settles us both beneath it. The bowl is resting in Garrett’s lap, where I would expect it to be, as we face the landscape in silence. It’s too dark to see the sea, but the sky looks like a monotone Jackson Pollock painting, flecks of starlight filling the sky. The quiet lapping of water can be heard and as Garrett kicks off for the swing to gently rock, a slight breeze is cast over me. It’s nothing short of pure romance.

Gare lifts the bowl of popcorn and moves it towards me, intending for me to take the first handful. I blink in shock, although he will not take his eyes away from a particular candle on the timber railing in front of us. To anyone else, this would seem like the lamest evening ever, but I know better. Garrett doesn’t willingly share food, nor does he do dates.

Without pausing any longer, fearing he may think I’m freaking out inside the way he clearly is on the outside, I snuggle down further to rest my head on his shoulder and take a cluster of popcorn. Popping it into my mouth, it crunches loudly between my teeth. Slowly, as I keep eating, Gare’s body starts to soften and he joins me in his midnight snack. I dare not tell him I’m not a big fan of popcorn, nor am I hungry but I keep on eating, realizing this is about more than just food.

We sit together, swinging and sharing body heat until the bowl is almost empty. Garrett reaches over to place it on the railing and I gasp. There was still some popcorn left. Oh no, is Garrett sick? Is this one big ruse to tell me he only has a few days left to live? Luckily, when he sighs and starts talking, that’s not the revelation he says.

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