Blighted Soul

I sighed with relief when I saw him at his locker. I’d gone to his house every day this week and called his phone every hour with no results. He’d even been skipping school. Days without seeing him and knowing he was mad at me was like torture.

I’d already planned this moment out in my head. I would apologize profusely. I would explain myself. Then we would make up and I’d tell him about my dad and he’d help me feel better; like he always did. Mentally preparing myself, I approached him with caution, speaking softly.

“Evan.”

He turned around. Before he could even speak, I was off at the mouth.

“You have no idea how sorry I am. I had no right to say that stuff to you. If you could just let me explain—”

I stopped short when my eyes really, actually took him in. His eyes were so hooded, he almost looked like he was asleep, and he had the dopiest grin on his face. Everything about him just screamed “I’m high off my ass.”

“Evan…are you high?” I asked, half in disbelief. I prayed that the months he spent in rehab meant something to him and he wouldn’t actually go running to drugs the moment we got into a fight. Giggling softly to himself, he got on tip toe to whisper in my ear.

“I may have possibly, by chance, taken some ecstasy.”

I gripped his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. Forcing his eyelids back, I took in the dilated pupils. “Evan, no,” I moaned. “How could you do this?

He shook his head in my grasp. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He said.

“You’re not fine. You shouldn’t even be at school right now. Come on. I’m taking you home.”

He let out a giggle. “Okay, but you have to make a deal with me first.”

“What deal?” I said impatiently, clutching his arm. He leaned close to my ear and whispered:

“Once you get me home, you have to fuck me.”

Oh God, I whined internally, Why is this happening?

“You listen to me,” I said sternly, looking him directly in the eyes. “There is no way in hell I’m going to have sex with you when you’re like this.”

“But it’s fine,” he whined, “Look, I’m not even mad at you anymore. I don’t care if you don’t care about me.”

“Evan, what the hell are you talking about?” I asked, desperation seeping into my voice. “I fucking love you. And you’re hurting me by doing this to yourself.”

“Doing what?” He asked in sudden irritation, shaking my hand off roughly. “I’m doing this because of you. I’m doing this because I want to feel alright. I don’t want to sit around thinking about all of the ways that I fuck everything up, or the way that I can never be happy. I just—I just want to feel alright, dammit!”

Tears were now streaming down his face. “Evan,” I murmured, reaching out for him.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat. “Just leave me alone. If you won’t fuck me, you’re no use to me.”

He begins walking away. The logical part of my brain tells me to leave him be. Really, there’s no use when he’s like this. It’s like talking to a brick wall; you can’t get through to him. But the part of my brain that loves him deeply goes after him.

“Evan, wait,” I said, catching up to him.

“Don’t you fucking get it?” He yells, looking me dead in the eye. I search for him in there, the boy that I fell in love with, but he isn’t there. These eyes are desolate and cold. “You were a mistake, Caleb. I thought we could work, but we can’t. So leave it alone. Please. For both our sakes.”

I don’t stop him this time as he leaves. You can keep trying, I try to persuade myself. It isn’t over. It can’t be over.

But somehow, I can’t seem to convince myself.