Page 45 of Bound By Obsession

I could have gone for another lap or two but Garrett is gasping by the time we reach the porch steps. He clings onto the banister, dramatically pulling himself up and into the house. It’s just as quiet as when we left this morning, nothing touched or out of place. I honor my promise and head straight for the refrigerator, taking out eggs to whip up some omelets for Garrett and myself. The man in question has collapsed onto the sofa, his head tilted back and eyes closed. I should take pity on him; it’s not like he got much sleep last night. Then again, neither did I.

In no time, I have two plates in hand and I’m kicking Garrett awake. He eagerly accepts his, despite the redness in his dark eyes. Placing mine on the coffee table, a chill rolls down my back, dried sweat clinging to my skin. The shower is calling my name but with the smell of food making its way around the room, it’s overruled by the growling of my stomach.

“I’m gonna grab a hoodie. Don’t eat my omelet!”

“I make no such promises,” Garrett calls behind me. Chuckling and shaking my head, I take the stairs up to the second level. Passing the middle door along the hallway, a low groan barely catches my ears.

I freeze in place, waiting for another but only silence follows. Yet a niggling feeling I can’t place tells me something is wrong. Slowly twisting the rounded handle, I crack the door open atiny bit to peer inside. Everything is dark, only a tiny slither of the light cracking through the curtains allowing me to see the perfectly made bed and tidy space inside. Huxley’s denim jacket is slung over the back of a wooden chair, his white and blue Air Jordans tucked beneath the matching desk. Pushing my head further into the room, I notice a shine bleeding out from beneath the bathroom door.

Tiptoeing across the space, I press my ear against the timber separating us. Inside is silent. Knocking softly, I wait a second before entering the room. I gasp at the body on the ground, more so because it’s not Huxley. A shaved head is leaning back against the bathtub, his legs strewn across the tiled floor like an afterthought. Edging closer, he doesn’t open his eyes and I note that his face is a bright shade of red, sweat is covering his forehead and chest.

“Axel?” I whisper, giving his arm a nudge. The limb falls lifelessly at his side, panic seizing me. Grabbing his face in my hands, I shout his name and give him a rough shake. His lids crack open ever so slightly, but his hazel eyes remain unfocussed. “Fuck. Axel, what happened?” I ask but his only response is a twitch of his nostrils. Glancing around, I don’t find evidence of anything suspicious so I’m going to hazard a guess that he’s had another panic attack. I leave him, flying around Huxley’s bedroom. After turning the fan on and directing it towards the bed, I return to the bathroom and fill a cup on the side of the sink with cold water.

“Drink,” I order, lifting Axel’s head forward and pushing the cup against his lips. He flinches as the cold-water splashes over his chin and chest, the moment rousing him enough to take a few sips. He groans as his head lolls back. Looping a towel beneath each of his underarms, I lean Axel against the cotton strap I’ve created across his back. It takes a few tries to prepare myself, clutching the towel tightly. Then I’m heaving, walkingbackwards, one effort-filled step at a time. I use all my strength to drag him the last distance towards the bed.

Tugging him back up into a seated position, his weight rests against me. “Axel, I’m going to need you to help me here.” I grit out whilst knowing he’s in no position to do anything. Axel mumbles incoherently.

After counting down three, two, one – mostly for myself - I start to lift him upwards. His weight is crippling but I force myself to hold on, despite his trembling limbs. Gripping his arm and throwing it around my waist, I urge him to hold on and I heave upwards again. Drawing Axel to his knees, I feel him start to slip so I give the back of his head a smack.

“Stay with me, you heavy sack of shit,” I grumble into his ear. Using my shoulder in his chest, I push him upright with all my might until he is just about on the edge of the mattress. “Okay, good.” I praise myself.

I feel the second Axel zones out again. A scream escapes me as he topples over, his weight doubling over my shoulders. My own legs threaten to buckle but I persevere, throwing his floppy top half back onto the mattress. Breathing heavily, as if I’ve just run a marathon, I move the fan onto him and retrieve the cup of water. After a few failed attempts to rouse him, I change tactic and move across the bed. Rolling his head and shoulders up, I use my body to stop him from sagging back down and force him to drink at least half of the water I’m pushing against his lips. After I’m satisfied he’s beginning to cool down, his face returning to its usual beige color, I leave him to rest against my front.

I’m exhausted, weary to my bones with worry. Stroking my fingers across his head, my thoughts tumble and clash. Where are the others and why the hell isn’t anyone caring for Axel?

Stirring, his head shifts as he glances around the darkened room while I continue to stroke his shaven head. He groans,attempting to push himself upright and I use my flattened hands against his back to help. I give him a whole minute to come around before shouting a little too loudly.

“Axel, what the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, hanging his head. I gently smack his shoulder.

“Don’t apologize,” I frown, remaining in place to support him. Gradually, Axel’s frame starts to relax and he shifts further up the bed. Crawling beneath the sheets with him, we lay together in the dark, propped up by pillows that smell distinctly of Huxley. “I’m worried. Talk to me.”

“It was just a rough night, that’s all. I didn’t sleep because I was watching-” Axel sharply cuts himself off. “I was just heading to my room when it hit me out of nowhere.”

“What did?!” I blanch, visually checking him over as far as I can see. I should have checked for a wound before moving him.

“A panic attack. I wasn’t thinking straight and the tremors started. I ducked into the nearest room and…well, I must have blacked out. That’s never happened before.” His voice is a desperate, yet resigned tone. “It’s not normally that bad.”

“And you still won’t tell me what’s causing them?” I ask softly, now drawing gentle circles on his chest. Axel puts his hand over mine, halting my movements and flattening my hand over his heart.

“It’s random. There’s no telling why or when.” Axel must feel the stiffness of my body along the length of his. He presses a kiss against my forehead. “Just stress, sweetheart. It all affects us in different ways.”

Hmm, not buying it. We’ve all been stressed for weeks, and whether Axel’s panic attacks are new or he was just better at hiding them, it’s clear they are escalating. But there’s nothing else I can do or say. If Axel won’t share his burdens with meor anyone else, he needs to find his own way to rise from the darkness he’s trapped himself in.

“I’m just saying, whatever you’re currently doing to handle this, it’s not working. You should talk to someone.” I ask softly, feeling like I’m about to poke the beast. Axel doesn’t react, laying statue still.

“I’m doing what everyone else in this house is doing. Trying to be strong for you.” His voice is barely a whisper, his shoulders tensing like that confession caused him physical pain. I chance a look up at his face, his strong jaw clenched and hazel eyes glazed over.

“I don’t need you to be strong for me. I need you to take care of yourself. In fact, that’s all I want and the rest will follow.”

“I will try.” His chest rises and falls on a large breath, his fingers moving to link with mine. “For you, I’ll try.” I push myself up so I’m hovering over him, my ponytail falling limply to one side.

“No, not for me. I won’t always be around. You need to do this for you or it won’t work. You’re so special, Axel. Sweet and loving and funny, you light up every room and the guys out there love you. That’s the Axel you need to hold onto.”

“What about you?” he asks, his hand curling around my arm. I resist the urge to look away from his penetrating gaze. Even in this darkness I feel the weight of it spearing through me. When I don’t respond, Axel’s hand rises to my shoulder and then neck. Using my nape, he lowers me until I’m leaning directly over his mouth. “Do you love me?”

I have to fight not to throw myself into his kiss and body. My arms shake with the need of it, my breathing growing thin. I want to shout yes, to give Axel that anchor to cling onto, but it’s not the right time. It would go against everything I’ve been through with Huxley, encouraging him to work on himself first. It would make me the world’s biggest freaking hypocrite.

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