Benji

For as long as I could, I avoided Benji.

In saying this, I should probably mention that it’s only been four days since the whole incident, but that’s a long time when the boy I’m completely infatuated with is constantly around and I can’t stand to look at him.

I’ve definitely calmed down a lot, but every time I see him, an intense need to hurt someone flares up. Every time I see his injured face, I can’t help but feel guilty that I was unable to stop it from happening. Every time he looks at me, his gorgeous blue eyes wide, I feel sick to my stomach.

I’ve avoided him because I can’t stand the ache that I feel whenever I glimpse the bruise on his perfect features.

It made it easier too, to avoid him, when he refused to speak to me as well. Every time we had to be near each other, Benji went quiet. His movements would become smaller and less enthusiastic, and he would barely speak. It felt like he was afraid of me, and that fact alone pained me.

I’d fallen asleep early on Friday night, the noise of Kyle and Benji giggling down the hall acting as a happy lullaby. I was so exhausted with trying to stay away from Benji, trying not to break down, trying to figure out how to fix everything that it was easy to slip into sleep and I did so in a matter of minutes.

*

Everything was quiet when I awoke. I sat up, blearily looking around my dark room as I tried to identify what had woken me. My cell phone suddenly vibrated loudly on the dresser next to my bed and I realised that someone was calling me.

“Ngh?” I grunted into the device, still half-asleep and oblivious as to who was calling me so late (or was it early?).

“Reid!” I heard someone shouting and had to hold the phone away from my ear. There was a lot of background noise as well, music and voices. “We need you to come pick us up!”

“What? Kyle?” I questioned, waking up slightly as I recognised my brother’s voice. “Where are you?”

“We’re… at a party. We snuck out,” he replied, his voice and the background noises quieter now. “Please can you come and get us?”

“The fuck, Kyle?” I groaned, sitting up in my bed. “You got there yourself so you can get home by yourself.”

“Please, Reid!” Kyle pleaded with a desperate edge to his voice. “Benji’s… kind of a mess.”

I practically fell out of bed, my mind immediately jumping to ridiculous scenarios. “What?! Is he alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’ll be okay,” my brother said, waving it off. “Can you please just pick us up?”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, and quickly scribbled down the address that he gave me.

“I’m coming now.”

I hurried to pull on a pair of jeans and my jacket, shoving the address in my pocket and grabbing my keys. I didn’t bother trying to be quiet as I left the house – it wasn’t my problem if Mum woke up and got angry, because I wasn’t the one who’d snuck out in the first place.

The address Kyle had given me wasn’t too far away, though I probably got there faster than I should have due to the fact that I was really fucking worried about Benji. Kyle hadn’t said what was wrong and all I could think was that he’d been hurt again.

As soon as I pulled into the street I was able to spot the house. It was kind of obvious with the amount of cars outside and the teenagers stumbling across the lawn. I neared the house and immediately saw Kyle and Benji standing calmly amongst the turmoil. My brother looked almost sombre as he waited, dressed in black with a blank expression on his face. Benji, on the other hand, had his head down, his shoulders were slumped, and he was clutching at Kyle’s sleeve.

I parked in front of them and Kyle opened the back door, helping Benji in before getting in the passenger seat. I turned to study Benji, my eyes examining his body for fresh bruises, for any signs that he’d been hurt again. Thankfully I didn’t find any, but his tear-stained cheeks told me he wasn’t completely okay.

I glared at Kyle, ready to interrogate and berate him, but he just shook his head as though he’d been through enough already.

“He’ll be okay,” Kyle whispered after we’d been driving in silence for a couple of minutes.

I tried to think of something to say, but didn’t know how to properly word it. How was I supposed to say that I’d almost had a heart attack when he’d said Benji was a mess? How was I supposed to say that I’d broken the speed limit on my way to pick them up? How was I supposed to say that if it had just been Kyle, I probably would have just gone back to sleep? How was I supposed to say that my chest felt like it was slowly imploding because he was crying again?

“He had too much to drink and he was crying and crying and he just wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what to do, so I called you.”

“Kyle, it’s fine,” I replied quietly.

I saw him nod out of the corner of my eye. We lapsed into a comfortable silence then, interrupted only by Benji’s occasional sniffs and hiccups. To be honest, I was just glad that he was okay. It wasn’t good that he’d gotten drunk, but he was here and he was safe and he wasn’t hurting, and that’s what mattered.

When we got home, I hurried around to the other side to help Benji inside. I tried to take his arm as he was getting out of the car, but he pushed me off.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, keeping his head down.

I stepped back, shocked and hurt that he wouldn’t let me help him. Kyle intervened, shrugging at me and taking Benji’s arm, steadying him as they walked inside.

Sighing, I followed them. I really shouldn’t be complaining that he wouldn’t let me help – I mean, I was the one who’d yelled at him and told him it didn’t matter. I was the one who’d freaked out. I was the one who’d made him cry when I should have been comforting him.

It was my fault.