Louie.

Time stood still, when summer began.

Before the school year ended I was skateboarding with my friends, working part time at a store in the mall, looking forward to senior year, and doing my best to manage my mom’s lack of. . . momness. But then someone flipped a switch and I was in new surroundings, and the life I had know was taken away, little by little. I was stuck in a cookie-cutter house, with the perfect middle-class family my father had walked out on my mom and I for. I felt like my world had been flipped upside down

I was a ticking time bomb.

I wasn’t really reminded of it all until I returned from a grocery-run and was greeted with the sight of my iTouch and blue ear buds on my desk. I picked up the device carefully and turned it over in my hands.

Patrick was the one who gave it to me.

It was sophomore year, and I was realizing that not everyone was raised by a single parent.

We were in his room, a brand new iTouch on his computer desk that he was starting to set up. I sat awkwardly at the edge of his bed and watched him. In the midst of transferring his music he paused and looked at me. Then he offered me his old iTouch. It was relatively new, but he had found it on a camping trip. I can remember his nonchalant attitude and my uneasiness, but in the end I accepted it.

When I got a part-time job, I considered getting a new one, but the one Patrick had given me was sentimental. I settled on buying a new pair of ear buds every once in awhile

~

I was falling asleep on my bed, with my music playing when I felt someone touch my shoulder. I felt my body jolt, my hands yanked my ear buds out. Beth was standing beside my bed, taking a step back.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up Ben. I was hoping you could help me out.”

I rubbed at my eyes and started to stand up.

“What do you need?” I mumbled.

“Lizbeth and Beatrice are with their friends. I need to take care of Louie and Lorraine is being difficult. Can you take lunch over to Rockwell’s house?”

My face must have showed my hesitation because she was quick to add on, “It’s just across the street, please Ben?”

I felt myself give in.

“Yeah.”

I pulled on a beanie and slipped on my shoes. I was dressed in sweats and a simple shirt again, but they were clean, so I didn’t care. Beth walked downstairs with me and handed me a container that was wrapped in a kitchen towel.

“Just be careful with the lasagna, it’s fresh out of the oven.” She warned me and I just nodded my head.

“Oh, and here’s their house key.”

I felt odd, walking out into the summer afternoon, dressed in lazy clothes and carrying a hot dish. It felt weird to cross the street and walk up the driveway of a house I had watched from afar

I struggled to open the front door, and was met with hot, stuffy air when I stepped inside the house. The walls were covered with various pictures of what I assumed were Rockwell and his parents. The couches were old and worn, but seemed comfortable. The dark wood of the coffee table matched the Grandfather clock and despite there already being carpet on the floor, there were a couple rugs spread out. They reminded me of Rockwell’s hipster sweaters.

I made my way into the kitchen which was clean, but the counter was littered with vitamin bottles, and fruit. There was a few pictures on the refrigerator, but the one that caught my attention had Rockwell in it. He was standing in front of a high school, but it was obvious it was his freshmen year. His hair was shorter, and he had braces but his eyes were still green.

He was still cute.

The dish was still hot, and the heat was seeping through the towel. I quickly reached for an oven mitt that was on the counter. My eyes zoned in on the dishes that were drying on a rack, and I grabbed two plates and two forks. I did my best to ignore the fact that the house was new to me and headed upstairs. Rockwell’s room was obvious, it was the only one that was decorated and even had his name on it.

As I stepped closer to his room, I heard the faint sound of music playing. I wasn’t familiar with the song but it definitely had an indie sound to it, which I guess was not surprising. I did my best to keep a neutral face and turned the doorknob.

I was blinded by the light from the sun and the white walls. I could feel something in me shift when I stepped into his room. I don’t know what to make of this feeling.

A bedroom tells a lot about a person. You can find out their interest, and quirks; who they really are. Normally I would have given the room a once over, but things aren’t normal when it comes to Rockwell.

Rockwell was in front of me, laying on his bed, reaching for something on his desk that was too far for him to reach. He was straining himself, seconds away from falling onto the floor. I could have kept him from falling, but I was just stuck in place and it was too late. He fell off his bed.

It was a short distance, and it probably wasn’t that bad, but the hardwood floors made the impact sound painful. His music may have been playing loudly but I could hear his sharp intake of breath. He fell face down, arms attempting to brace himself but it was of no use. He turned his head to the door, his eyes were scrunched and he was biting on his bottom lip. I felt my stomach churn.

He Rockwell opened his eyes and he saw me, standing in his doorway; a witness to what happened.

My heart skipped a beat.

He closed his eyes again and turned his head towards the floor, staying in place. I would have continued to stand there awkwardly, but I there was a hot plate of food in my hand that I had to set down. I placed it on the closest surface and rushed to his side on the floor.

The music was still loud, but all I could focus on was him. He tried to push himself up, like he was doing a push-up, but I knew it would mean he had to put weight on his cast-covered leg. I leaned close enough to his ear so he could hear me say ‘no’. He stopped, and I tried to nudge him so that he would roll onto his back.

It was strange to feel his body at my fingertips, to watch it follow my commands. I could feel the fabric of his shirt, which for once wasn’t a hipster sweater, but it had a front pocket with a tribal print. My left hand reached for his shoulder, and he started to sit up, my right hand gliding along the back of his shirt.

It was only for a moment, because I had to adjust my hands again. I pulled his arm over my shoulder, my right arm almost cradling his back, hand pressed firmly against his ribs. He held onto me with and used his right hand and good leg to lift himself off the floor. A normal person would have sat on the edge of his bed before moving more, but Rockwell pushed himself, skipping the step and trying to lay himself back onto his bed.

I fell forward, one arm pinned under him, the other frozen, holding onto his arm. I thought about falling face first into the blankets, but that meant my neck would crush into his torso, so I moved in that split second.

I was almost laying on top of him and my face was in the crook of his neck, chamomile invading my senses. Rockwell was warm, his frame felt small, but I’m pretty sure we were the same build, I was just slightly taller. He felt solid.

My eyelids flutter closed.

I should get up.

But that thought completely went out the window when his arms wrapped around me, a set of fingers touching the back of my neck and the tips of my hair. My body was reacting on its own, welcoming and returning the warm embrace.

It’s been forever since I’ve held someone.

I was securely in place, my face pressing closer to his neck, eyelashes kissing, breath ghosting his skin. He did the same to me.

I felt something inside of me.

Time stopped . . .and all I could think of . . . was him.