Page 74 of His Every Move

“I’m an alcoholic, Eli. Functioning but spiraling. I’ve been denying it for a while now, but this all pushed me down to my rock bottom. I can’t run from it anymore. Can’t hide it. A lot of my shitty decisions—not to excuse them but to explain them—happened when I was five shots deep.”

I took a moment to process his words. Had I picked up on the smell of alcohol on his breath? Sure, sometimes I did. But had I realized he had a drinking problem? No, it hadn’t crossed my mind.

“Missing your call last night, it was one of the straws that broke me. I was blackout drunk. I had no idea you needed me. I’m so fucking pissed with myself, Eli, but I swear, I’m going to make a change. I’m going into an intensive program. Already called them and signed up for a spot next month.”

“That’s… I’m sorry, Benji. I didn’t realize you were struggling.”

“I hid it as well as I could. It’s been one of my demons, but I’m learning to live with it. I don’t know how difficult the road ahead’s going to be, but I’m determined not to end up like my mother.” Benji’s hazel gaze locked with mine. I could see that he really meant what he was saying. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.

“When did it start?” I asked.

“A while ago. Actually, I think when I was in high school. I…” He paused, looked out the window, and collected himself. The sun had already set, the sky as dark as the light pollution would allow it to be.

“It’s okay,” I said, realizing this was difficult territory for him to tread. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, but I do.” He looked at me, his eyes glistening. I scooted over on the bed and motioned for him to sit next to me. If I were being honest with myself, every second he wasn’t inches away from me was torture.

Fuck. Was this stupid of me? Possibly. But then again, when did anyone have rational thoughts around someone they lov—whoa, whoa.

Liked.

Liked.

“I’ve told you about Michael already. He was my best friend growing up. My rock, my support. He’s someone I also developed really,reallystrong feelings for. I can genuinely say he was my first love. My mom would sometimes take me to church on weekends she felt extra guilty, and I remember praying for Michael and I to end up together. Married. It wasn’t even legal back then, and I still prayed for it.” As Benji spoke, it felt like he was unfurling himself, petal by petal, opening for me. I gave him the space to continue. By the sad tone in his voice, I could already get a sense of where this story was going. Michael broke his heart. Michael crushed his idea of “soulmates” and “true love.” “I came out to him freshman year of high school. Then he came out a few months after. We kept it a secret from everyone, which only made the bond between us stronger. And then, a week before Christmas of our senior year, he was taken from me. Shot and killed. A road-rage incident that spiraled out of control.”

I couldn’t keep the shock from twisting my neck, my jaw dropped. “Benji…”

It somehow got worse.

“I was there when it happened. Told him to keep driving after the guy rear-ended us. But he wanted to file a police report. The driver got out, angry as hell, started calling us both fags. This set Michael off. He shouted back, and before I could pull him away, the other driver took out his gun and shot twice. One missed. The other tore right through his heart. I caught him, watched the light completely fade from his eyes. Sometimes when I look at my hands, I can still see them covered in his blood. I started drinking the day after that.”

“Oh, Benji…” There was nothing I could truly say that would encompass the vast expanse of sorrow I felt for him. I’d never been through something as deeply traumatic as that. Couldn’t even fathom what that would have done to my spirit.

“The driver fled. They couldn’t find him, either. It wasn’t until a private detective got involved that they were able to locate the guy. It’s part of the reason why I do what I do.”

“I can’t—I’m sorry. That’s beyond difficult.”

“It’s been rough. I don’t think I’ve ever fully processed it, either. Whenever I get even a moment of clarity, I try to dim it with alcohol. But not anymore. I’m going to change that. It’s what Michael would have wanted.”

I nodded at that. As difficult as this was to hear, I was happy that there was at least a turning point ahead.

“You remind me of him, you know.”

“I do? How?”

“You have the same sense of humor. I feel like he’d send the same exact silly memes or like the same shows. And he had a passion for theater, too, except he wanted to direct and produce. Would have been great at it.”

I could feel the hurt radiating off Benji, but I could also sense a warm gratitude for having met Michael in the first place. “Sounds like he was a great guy.”

“He was. He really was.”

“What happened to the driver?”

“Life in jail. Rotting away. Still not a good enough punishment, but I was glad he was at least caught. He was a day away from leaving the country.”

“Whoa,” I said. I reached over and placed my hand on his thigh. I could have kept up an invisible barrier between us, but I didn’t want that anymore. I made achoiceto invite him here, to listen to his story, and now, to rub his leg, squeezing it. “Thank you for opening up to me like that. You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I felt like I needed to. Thank you for listening.” He blinked those long lashes of his, lips slightly parted. I swallowed a heavy lump in my throat. My heart started to beat a little faster as the heat from his leg spread up through my palm, coursing down to my core.

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