“Molloy.” A slow smile crept across his face. “Mol-fucking-loy.”
“Are you…” I narrowed my eyes, instantly suspicious. “Oh my god, you’re high.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes. “What did you take?”
“Hmm?”
“Drugs, Joey,” I snapped, feeling my breath hitch in my throat. “I know you’re after taking something.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“I’ve known you since we were twelve, genius, I think I’d know when you’re high,” I whisper-hissed. “What did you take?”
“Nice legs.”
Not tonight, buddy.
“Fine, if you’re not going to be straight with me, you can leave.”
“I don’t wanna leave, Molloy.”
“Then what do you want?”
“What do I want?” Swaying from side to side, he held his hands up and shrugged. “Fuck if I know, Molloy.”
“Yeah, well, while you go on not knowing what you want, I’m going to sleep,” I said flatly.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa – where are ya going?”
“To bed, Joey.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I glared down at him. “Because it’s the middle of the night, and that’s what normal people do at night.”
“Oh right.” He frowned. “Yeah.”
“And because we have school in the morning,” I snapped. “You remember that place called school, don’t you?”
“Obviously.” Still swaying, I watched as his brow furrowed and confusion set in. “Am I in the doghouse again?”
Absolutely. “You tell me.”
He stared blankly up at me.
“Forget anything tonight?”
Again, he stared blankly.
“Goodnight, Joey,” I sighed in resignation and moved to pull my head back inside, when the mad bastard lunged.
Taking a running jump, he scaled the side of my house like a fucking cat, not stopping until he was holding onto the ledge of my windowsill. “Why am I in the doghouse, Molloy?”
“Do you have a death wish?” I hissed, wide-eyed, as he dangled from the side of my house. “Oh my god, get in here, you eejit.” Catching ahold of his arms, I helped to drag him through my window. “That was so fucking stupid,” I growled, when he was sprawled on his ass on my bedroom carpet. “Don’t ever do that again when you’re in this condition.”
Holding his thumb up in response, he remained perfectly rigid on the flat of his back on my bedroom floor.
“I’m just going to…take a breather down here for a bit.”
“Yeah, you go right ahead and do that, asshole,” I grumbled, climbing back onto my bed. “From now on, consider my bedroom floor to be your personal doghouse.”
“Hmm,” Joey slurred. “If you let me come out of the doghouse, I’ll let you cum on my face.”
“In your condition? Ha. I wouldn’t let you put a finger on me,” I snapped, pulling the duvet up to my neck. “Now, close your eyes and go to sleep.”
“Molloy?”
“Shh.”
“Molloy?”
“I’m sleeping.”
“Molloy?”
“What?”
“I lied.” He exhaled heavily. “I got high tonight.”
“Yeah, Joe, I know,” I squeezed out, clenching my eyes shut, as the pain in my chest splintered and stretched until I was hurting all over.
There was a long stretch of silence before he slurred, “Molloy?”
“What?”
“Do you hate me?”
No, I love you. “Go to sleep, Joey.”
Unable to close an eye, I saw every hour of the clock, as I remained rigid in my bed, with only the occasional soft snore from the boy on my bedroom floor to keep me company.
My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d shown up at my window.
I was so mad at him for doing this to himself, but my anger paled in comparison to my concern.
This was serious.
He could die.
It was always a possibility when you played with fire like I knew he did.
I didn’t know what he had taken tonight, and I was almost afraid to find out.
Finally, around 05:30 in the morning, I felt myself slip into a fitful sleep.
SPECIAL_IMAGE-images/svgimg0003.svg-REPLACE_ME
When I woke up the following morning, it was to the realization that I had somehow managed to sleep through the alarm on my phone.
It was gone half nine when I woke, and I knew school had already started, so I just stayed where I was.
Feeling thoroughly depleted of energy, I remained bundled up under my covers, aimlessly watching the screen of my phone as the time ticked by.
Eventually the sound of a throat clearing, filled my ears and I groaned.
“Mam, before you start, I’m sick. I’m on my period,” I quickly called out, lying through my teeth, as I thought up the worst, most horrendous temporary ailment I could possibly have. “I’m after bleeding out in the night. It’s a blood bath in here. Honest to God, Mam, there isn’t a sanitary towel in the bathroom big enough to cope with the flow.“
“Yeah, it’s me, your mam left the house a while ago.”
Springing up, I threw the covers off to find Joey sitting on the chair next to my window, with his hood up and his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie – his usual stance.
I couldn’t hide the relief that expelled from my lungs in a shaky breath.
“Why are you still doing here?” I couldn’t hide the anger in my voice, or the hurt. “I gave you a place to sleep it off. No need to linger.”
He didn’t blanch at my words.
Instead, he continued to stare back at me. “I was supposed to meet you after work last night. I was supposed to walk you home, and I didn’t show up. I remember now.”
“Well, good for you.” I gestured to the window and glared. “See ya.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry.” I stared hard back at him. “You never say sorry, because you’re never sorry, remember?”
His green eyes remained locked on mine, unblinking. “I am this morning.”
“Well, this morning I’m too mad to accept it,” I countered, swallowing down a surge of emotion. “When you didn’t show up last night, or answer your phone, I thought you were hurt, or worse.” My voice cracked and I quickly steadied myself before adding, “But you weren’t hurt or worse. You just had a better offer.”
He swallowed the venom in my words, and didn’t even try to deny it, or fight with me.
I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse.
When he made no move to leave, I shook my head, feeling at a loss.
“I know that you’re new to this,“ I waved a finger between us, “whatever you want to call what we’re doing, but this is the part where you either give me some bullshit explanation for why getting high was more important than sending me a goddamn text, or it’s the part where you leave.”
He didn’t budge.
He didn’t open his mouth to defend his actions, either.
“You’re absolutely right, Molloy.” With slow, stiff movements, I watched as Joey slowly dragged himself to his feet. “I should go,” was all he replied, and then shook his head. “I will go.”
“What?” Throwing off the covers, I sprang out of my bed and stalked towards him. “I wasn’t serious, asshole! I was being dramatic. You’re not going anywhere until we talk about what happened.”
“I’m really not in the mood to talk about it.”
“Well, I wasn’t in the mood to be woken up by your big, drugged-up ass jumping through my window, but here we are.” Planting my hands on my hips, I glowered up at him. “Well?”
“Well, what?” he said flatly, keeping his head down. “I think it’s pretty clear that I fucked up.”
Giving me his back, he moved for my window.
“Oh hell no.“ Lunging towards him, I quickly stepped in front of window and blocked off his escape route. “You don’t get to do that,” I warned. “You don’t get to walk out on me without an explanation for last night.”
“I got high!” he snapped. “Is that what you want to hear? Huh? I went out last night and I lost my fucking mind in the bottom of a bottle of vodka and a shit ton of pills.”
“Why?” I strangled out, feeling his words pierce through me like bullets.
“Why?” he hissed. “Why? Because that’s what I do, Molloy!” he snapped. “That’s fucking why. “
“Joey…”
“I know I messed up, okay? I know I let you down,” he spat. “But this is me, okay?” Knocking his hood down when he roughly dragged both hands through his blond hair, he hissed, “I am who I am, Molloy, and who I am is not good for you!”
That's when I saw it.
The bloody eye-socket.
The burst lip.
The purple swelling down the entire left side of his cheek.