Chapter Twelve - Back Alley Counselling

Sitting at dinner with both my parents opposite, Ezra at the head of the table and Elijah beside me might just be the most uncomfortable experience of my life.

It weirdly resembles how I introduced Adam to my family when we first started dating, although we weren't punching each other under the table like Hendrix and I are every time the other dares to try say something incriminating.

"I didn't realise the two of you had become such good friends." My mum says as she collects the empty plates. I snort mid drink, sending water spraying from my nostrils before I turn beet red while choking to empty my airways.

Ezra looks at me something between confused and mortified, while my father looks positively disgusted, wiping a single finger over the drop of water on his cheek. Elijah, well, he's grinning like a Cheshire Cat, slapping me me harshly on the back. It makes a change on where he's been leaving bruises on my leg, digging his knuckle into my thigh to stop me from bitching about him. I look at him with a scowl when I can final breathe again.

"Oh yeah, really good friends." Hendrix says, nearly making me vomit up the lasagne I've just eaten. Never did I think I would be happy to hear the shrill cries of my hate-child, but when it offers me the perfect excuse to leave the table, I can't help but smile. "I'll come give you a hand." Elijah offers, looking up at me through his long lashes, the emerald green of his eyes battling through. I scowl at him.

"Don't you have a home to go to?" I grit out. He plasters on a boyish grin and tilts his head ever so slightly.

"I'm in no rush." He tells me. With flared nostrils and a roll of my eyes, I grumble acceptance and the pair of us go up to see our screaming child that lays completely motionless in the Moses basket. I scoop her up and start to rock her, rifling through her bag for a bottle. It's exceptionally more difficult to multitask that I originally thought and when her pink satchel falls over and spills the contents, I groan in frustration.

Hendrix rolls his eyes and crouches down, handing me a bottle before he continues to sort out the contents of the bag, lining everything out on my windowsill. I watch him with scrutiny as I feed Ellie. She's quiet, finally, but when she's finally finished feeding, she starts crying again. "What, what did I do?" I ask her, not too expecting of an answer.

"She'll need burping." Hendrix says, evoking a harsh look from me.

"She's a doll, she can't burp." I inform him. Hendrix rolls his eyes and takes her from me, proceeding to hold her awkwardly, cupping her face with one hand as he sits her on his knee, tapping her on the back.

"She has sensors to monitor what we're doing." Eventually, she stops crying and with a smug look, he puts her back into her basket. "Told you."

"Do you know how insufferable you are? No one likes a know it all." I snap at him. He scowls, ready to argue back, but my phone rings and I hold a hand up to silence him. My hardened expression falters when I see the ID and I chew on my lip, deliberating on whether I should pick up on not.

Hendrix simply watches, studying as I battle against the devil and angel perched on my shoulder. Will he call again? Why is he calling? Should I really do this in front of Elijah?

Curiosity wins and I answer. "Why are you calling?" I ask through a sigh. I know that Hendrix is listening, but he pretends to busy himself by looking at the baby clothes on the bed.

"Can you talk?" Adam says.

"We've been over this; I have nothing to say. You need to stop this." Without even having to specify, Elijah seems to realise who I'm talking to, his eyes flickering over to me and he falls short in folding the baby grow he holds.

"I know, it's just... we broke up and I just really need someone to speak to."

I guffaw and my hands coil into fists subconsciously. "Are you seriously fucking kidding me? What, have you called looking for sympathy, hoping I'll tell you it'll all be alright? Adam, I hope she broke your heart. No, actually, I hope she pulled your heart out of your arsehole, stamped on it with her knock off Louboutin's, and then force fed you it." I pull the phone away from my ear, position the microphone an inch away from my mouth and scream, "stop fucking calling!" before hanging up.

With a clenched jaw, I toss aside the phone, glaring at it as though the object itself is at fault for my lacking willpower, Adam's mind controlling games, and my overall sucky, sucky life.

"Trouble in paradise?" Hendrix muses.

"Piss off," I mumble, cupping my face in my hands with trembling hands, ones quivering with what I'm sure is rage and heartache. My body racks slightly as a silent sob trembles through me. What the fuck is my problem?

Why does everything still hurt? He's a pig; a big stupid pig that deserves everything he gets. I don't want anything to do with him. Still, I can't seem to find the strength to cut our last line of contact. And he knows that – why else would I be the person to ring? He wants me to know what's going on in his life, to make me think about him. Because I will, now I know that he's single, I'll think about him. I'll wonder what happened, I'll wonder why. Even now, he has me wrapped around my little finger.

I just want to forget about him.

"Can I offer some advice?" Hendrix says. I wipe my eyes rough with my arm and turn to him.

"I imagine you will even if I say no." I say with a heavy heart.

Elijah shrugs in agreement. "I just think, every time you answer that phone, you let him know you're not over him." He says simply.

"I'm over him," Elijah shoots me a dubious look. "I'm not over what he did." There's a pause and then, like it always does when I'm fuelled by my volatile emotions, my attitude runs away from me, letting me lash out on the first person in my line of sight.

"I don't know why you're involving yourself anyway. You did the same at the party." Hendrix recoils slightly, standing, and throwing the baby grow off to the side.

"I did you a favour." He snaps at me.

I stand too. "No, you lied. Nat told me, she said that she was in the kitchen all night, not in a spare room getting her end away. So, did you lie about Seb too? How can I trust anything you say?" He scoffs a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Don't bring your newfound trust issues into something as trivial as this. Just because Adam's a dick doesn't mean everyone else is." He seethes at me.

I'm not sure if it's circumstance, maybe it's the mention of Adam, but his words make me flinch. They cut deep, opening a wound that I've worked so hard to close, all the months of healing completely ruined.

He doesn't seem fazed though, his words were meant to hurt. They were meant to kick me when I'm down, and did I really expect something else? That's Hendrix. He's a prick. He doesn't care about how I feel, he's proved as much over the years. He brought up Adam and what's happened as a way to rub salt in the wound.

"I lied because your friends were fucking wasted." He continues to say in my silence, anger dripping from his tone. "So rather than turn a pretty good night into a shit fest MMA fight, I thought I'd be a decent person - you know, not be the guy that aggregates the bull or whatever shit analogy you used - and fix your problem. Which, I still haven't got a fucking thank you for, by the way." He runs agitated hands through his hair and then a breathy laugh passes his lips. "Fuck this." He mumbles.

"No, fuck you." I sneer, taking a pillow from my bed and launching it at him. One after another until the pair of us are throwing pillows at one another in fury. The most delicate fight fuelled with unparalleled vehemence. "Fuck," thump, "off," thud. When I've run out of pillows, Hendrix throws one more, hitting me square in the face before storming out of my room. He turns back and pokes his head around my door frame.

"If you've always been this intolerable, I don't blame him for leaving you." Well, that just sends me. I launch at him, punching my fist right into his face, not caring when I hear the crack of bones, either in his face or in my knuckles.

"You horrible boy!" I screech. I'm not aware that I'm crying until my face is wet with tears. Hendrix eyes are pooling too, but I'm sure for a completely different reason. "Of all the things to say, that's what you choose?" I sniffle, wiping my eyes with a shaky hand, one that throbs from the impact of the punch that happened only heartbeats earlier.

"Osborne," He begins, wiping a hand under his nose which is tinted red from the slight trail of blood.

"No, don't even bother. You're cruel and vindictive." I manage to stagger out. "You win. Alright? That's what you wanted isn't it? To win. Well I'm done. Stay away from me." I choke, turning my back on him before I break into a flood of tears, slamming the door behind me.

I hear the door go downstairs and an engine start outside. Good fucking riddance. I sit on the ground, legs to my chest, muffling my cries against my knees. Although, I'm not quite sure what I'm crying for. Maybe because of Adam; because of how he's confusing me. Maybe Elijah; because of what he said. Or more than that. Because I don't know how to accept an olive branch of friendship from him when he offers it.

I know he said those words in anger, but they seem to burn more having come from him.

~

I knock on Ezra's door, my face puffy and my nose still running slightly with snot (gross), forcing me to drag tissues underneath it every other second. I've left Ellie asleep in her basket but right now, wrapped up in the lost property jumper and a pair of fluffy socks, emotionally exhausted, I just need a cuddle from my big brother.

Ezra comes to the door and says nothing, just extends his arms and waits for me to accept the offer of his embrace. I do, and just start crying again.

"Come on, I know just the thing." He mumbles.

With popcorn and Rapunzel's trapeze acts with her hundred mile long hair, Ezra finally asks me what's wrong. It takes a lot, but I divulge everything. Everything with Adam, everything with Hendrix, right up to the point where I think I might've fractured my knuckle – my joints are swollen to the point they look inflated.

"It was just cruel." I conclude, stuffing my mouth with popcorn. Ezra sighs.

"It was, but I think it was something said out of emotion." I turn to Ezra with a dead pan expression. Doesn't he realise I've not come here for reasoning; I've come here for complete and utter support in everything ludicrous that comes out of my mouth. "I'm not saying he was right to do it, but we all say things in the heat of the moment that we don't mean."

"He had no reason to say it." I tell him pointedly.

"Listen, I'm not exactly cupid, but there's a thin line between love and hate Charlie." I turn completely, utterly disgusted, and bounce a piece of popcorn off of his forehead. He laughs, picking it up and throwing it in his mouth before continuing. "I'm not saying he's in love with you. I just think, there might be something more in your relationship than complete animosity.

"I mean, from what you've just said happened on Saturday, I see him spending the majority of his night with you. Getting rid of your ex, comforting you, making sure you weren't alone, and then getting you home when you were completely out of it." He says.

I groan slightly, sinking further into the cushions on Ezra's bed. "He was pretty nice on Saturday." I begrudgingly admit. "So, what, do you think I need to apologise?"

"I think that's a call you need to make. Did you do something you think you should apologise for?" I pause as I ponder. I did call him a liar. I called him untrustworthy for something that was completely insignificant and regardless, was a nice thing for him to do. And I also punched him in the face. "If you have to think about it, just apologise. You've got the next six weeks to cope with the guy, it might make it easier."

I sigh, deciding that my older brother is right and as Rapunzel swings from her tower, I decide to take a leap of my own and message Elijah to apologise.

Mike Tyson: I think I've broken my knuckle on your face.

I exhale as I send it, my heart beating a hundred miles an hour. Is that too cryptic of an apology?

"Do you like him?" Ezra then asks me, almost giving me whiplash as I turn to face him. I don't answer, just simply gape at him. He shrugs. "It's a simple question. Do you like him?"

"Have you come down with a sudden onset of amnesia? Did you not just hear the part of the story which ended with my fist in the guys face?" He rolls his eyes at me but continues to wait for an explicit response. "No, Ezzy, I don't like him. I can't stand him."

"Then why are you so bothered about this?" He inquires.

I stutter for a minute on my words, trying to compile a literate sentence. "It's the principle. I can't stand feeling as though I'm in the wrong." He hums, but I can tell he's not entirely convinced. With a sigh, I decide to let honestly reign supreme and with a grumble, I admit; "maybe I just thought that... for days now, we've managed, you know, to not maim each other. I thought that something was a little different between us. Then today just proved I was wrong."

"A nice different?"

"I haven't decided." I mutter, just as my phone vibrates with an incoming message.

Daddy Hendrix: I'm sorry my face is hard.

Mike Tyson: I'm sorry too.