Chapter Twenty-Seven

{Chapter Twenty-Seven}

"Ian," I gape, moving to wrap my arms around him before he can collapse when he finishes vomiting, covering my mom's beautiful pink flowers in brown foamy chunks. The sight of the chunks makes me gag as it reminds me way too much of the turkey I just consumed, and the mashed yams. I shudder and pull Ian's shaking body into the house so I don't offend the poor flowers any more than they already have been.

"Ew," he manages to mumble as I close the front door, looking around to make sure my parents didn't come check on me. I let Ian lean against my door as he groans quietly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, wiping his hand on his dirty gray uniform slacks.

"Ian, what are you doing here? Wait, what's wrong?" I ask, looking him over once more. No wonder Mom said he seems off. There's definitely something wrong with him, it's obvious by the way he's swaying, the vomiting, the bloodshot eyes. If I didn't know better I'd assume he's drunk, but how would he get drunk? His dads don't seem like the type to have alcohol lying around. And if they did, surely they would have it locked away, or keep it somewhere safe. Why would he get drunk though?

"'M fi-ine." He mumbles, his words slurred and my eyes widen.

"Ian," I hiss, looking around the room again in paranoia that my parents will come in. "Are you drunk?" I demand.

His glossy gray eyes meet mine and they begin to water, making my own widen in surprise.

"Sorry, Le-Lev-eee." He slurs softly and I shake my head.

"Don't apologize to me, you're the one who's going to have to explain to my mom why her azaleas have chunks on them." I muse with a laugh to lighten his mood so he won't start crying, I don't want to see him cry because of me.

"Can I stay--" he groans, closing his eyes before continuing with them closed. "Here?"

I don't ask why, I know if he went home in this state his dads would freak out on him. I also know that's the last thing he needs considering he's obviously emotional so I nod, reaching out to take his wrist but he yanks it away quickly, ramming his elbow into the door in the process.

"Sorry," he mutters while I stare at him in surprise.

"It's okay, babe." I murmur quietly and he opens his eyes to look at me with sadness in his pretty gray eyes. He extends his hand, though it's shaky and he obviously is seeing double because it's not really aimed at me, more to the side of me. I take it though and lock our fingers, leading him away from the door.

He stumbles but I keep him up and lead him through the house, thankful that the dinning room isn't open to the hallway or else Mom and Dad would see Ian's drunken state and question me about it. Not to mention that they would question me about Ian in general, of course they'll question me anyway but I'll worry about that after I get Ian safely up the stairs.

"Be careful on the steps." I warn and send him up in front of me, keeping one hand on the railing while the other stays on his back in case he falls back. We make it safely up the stairs though and I lead him to my room where he collapses on my bed.

"Is your stomach feeling okay?" I ask as I bring my small waste basket from beside my dresser to the side of my bed in case he throws up again.

"Mhm," he hums and I nod, pulling my sheet over his body.

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute with a glass of water and a cool rag. I want you to stay here, don't leave my room. The bathroom is right through that door if you need it and it's only connected to my room so no one else will come in. I also have a trash can right here in case you feel sick again so if you have to puke do it in there. I'll be right back." I assure before giving him one more glance as I leave.

I make my way back down the stairs and into the dinning room where Mom is just collecting the plates and silverware; Dad being the one to collect the leftovers. I clear my throat while they clean up and they glance at me.

"Um, my friend is here, I was wondering if he could stay the night. He uh, just got in a fight with a friend and doesn't want to go back home." I lie, feeling horrible for doing so but I can't exactly tell my parents that one of my lovers is drunk in my bed for an unknown reason.

"Oh, of course he can stay, honey. But doesn't he have school in the morning? I know you do, and if you plan to stay up all night and skip school you better think twice. I will drag you out of bed tomorrow if you don't get up." She adds sternly but I wave her off.

"I won't stay up all night," I assure though I'm almost positive I'll be getting up a lot tonight to tend to Ian.

"Well, if it's okay with his parents than he can stay. I don't need a worried mother ranting to me that her son didn't come home tonight." She mutters with an eye roll. I chuckle at that, until I actually imagine Owen calling my mother. I shudder but push those thoughts out of my mind.

"You definitely won't get a call from a worried mother." I reply, pondering the idea of telling her she probably doesn't want to look at her flowers tomorrow, but she nods so I make a note to tell her tomorrow when she freaks out. I smile and after I get a cold glass of water for Ian, I head back to my room. Ian is still in the same position I left him; groaning with his face buried in my pillow.

I close my door, turning the lock in case my parents try to come in. I walk across to my bed and lay my hand on Ian's back hesitantly. When he doesn't flinch or get upset at the contact I begin rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Ian, babe, drink some water. Try to finish the glass, it'll help." I murmur, placing the water on my nightstand. He turns over to look up at me before his eyes slowly move to the slightly tinted glass holding water with a small pink bendy straw in it.

He mumbles something inaudible to my ears, that I honestly doubt were actual words before he reaches out with a shaky hand to grab the glass. He brings it to his face as he attempts to sit up a bit though he's barely sitting up at all. He moves his lips to try to take the straw between them but after many failed attempts, I guide the pink plastic to his plump pink lips. He takes it and gulps from the straw quickly, not seeming to give any pause as he drinks all of the water in the glass. When it's empty he shakily puts it on the nightstand before his eyes falls shut while he falls onto his back again.

I run my fingers through his stringy hair, dampened by sweat. He seems to smile slightly at that until I sigh and he opens his eyes.

"Why did you get drunk?" I ask, pulling my hand away from his hair. He stares at me for a while, either to think of a lie or to try to remember the truth. I hope it's the latter, I don't want him to lie to me about this.

"Him." He mutters, his eyes falling shut again but I get the feeling he's closing his eyes so I can't read them. I don't ask for any explanation because I know he's talking about his ex, which makes my heart clench followed by protective anger pulsing through me at the thought of his ex contacting him.

"Did you talk to him?" I ask, trying to keep the anger out of my voice because I'm not angry at Ian, I'm angry at the piece of shit ex of his and I don't want Ian to think I'm mad at him.

"No," he replies before I can think of all the ways I would kill the man if I ever met him. Relief washes through me though, pushing some of the anger away. I start to ask what happened but he interrupts me. "Had a dream 'bout him. I was there again. He was there." He mumbles, his voice shaking.

"Where did you get the alcohol?" I ask, changing the subject slightly so he doesn't start reliving that night as I get the feeling the alcohol will make that more likely.

"A friend's brother." Ian replies and I nod though he can't see me as his eyes are still closed. I watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, the occasional twitch of one of his fingers. Then I sigh.

"Babe, look at me." I order softly, resting my hand against his cheek. He opens his glossed over, bloodshot, gray eyes to stare into my own boring hazel ones. "You can't get drunk again, or take any illegal drugs either. I can't begin to imagine how you felt when you did, and I understand you were upset, but don't ever do it again. Please. This isn't good for you and I don't want to worry about you drinking. So please, please, don't do this again." I whisper, biting my lip.

"It helps," he mumbles and I bite my lip harder, tracing my thumb over his cheek down his strong jaw, feeling the obvious stubble he failed to shave today.

"It doesn't help, it makes everything worse. Please, promise me you won't get drunk again. At least not until you're old enough." I add pleadingly and his lips twitch in a smile.

"I'm old enough to drink in other countries."

"Ian," I groan. "Promise me." He stares at me for a while before nodding slowly.

"'Kay, promise." He whispers and I smile, leaning down to kiss his cheek, feeling the same stubble against my lips.

"Thank you." I say when I pull back, heaving a sigh of relief. Then I glance down at his clothes, recalling that he wiped his hand, which had vomit on it, on his already dirty gray slacks. And his white dress shirt--a shirt I've seen him wear as part of his uniform--is filthy also, the white stained with what I assume is dirt with alcohol from the smell of it. It makes me wonder where his jacket and tie are, but I don't ask.

"Hey, I think you should change. I doubt you're comfortable in that. I have some pajama pants and an old band shirt you can borrow to sleep in." I add, getting up to retrieve the items from my dresser.

"Sorry I puked on the pink flowers." Ian says and I laugh as I turn back once I have the plaid pajama pants and Metallica shirt in hand.

"It's okay, babe. Now come on, I'll help you to the bathroom so you can change." I add, moving back to the bed where I drop the clothes on his lap. I help him sit up but he shakes his head, leaning in to drop his head on my mid-chest.

"I can't." He mumbles, sounding apologetic.

"Do you want me to help?" I ask as soothingly as I can to make him feel better. He nods against my chest so I nod to myself while he pulls his head off my chest, looking up at me.

"Alright," I nod once more and bite my lip. I reach down to unbutton his shirt, sliding it off and trying not to stare at his strong chest, a hint of hair sprinkled all over his chest with a trail leading into his slacks. I clear my throat and pick up the shirt, helping him slip his arms through the appropriate holes before pulling the faded black fabric over his head.

I swallow and move to unbutton his pants but he shakes his head, doing that himself. I simply help him stand, letting him clutch my arm in a death grip as he slides his uniform pants off, leaving him in simple black briefs that I quickly avert my eyes from. I reach down to grab the red plaid pajama pants, also faded, and help him slide them on. They're a bit big on him but they stay on so that's all that matters.

"Do you have to wash these some special way? Or are they machine washable?" I ask dumbly, referring to his dress shirt and gray slacks. He lies back in my bed, snuggling up with my extra pillow before yawning.

"Machine." He mumbles in the pillow and I nod, taking the clothes in my arms along with the empty glass. I put the clothes in the washer first, adding the soap and setting a timer on my phone so I'll know when to switch the clothes to the dryer, then Ian will have clean clothes tomorrow. Then I go back into the kitchen to refill the glass with more water.

I place the full glass on the nightstand once I'm back in my room and have the door closed. I smile at Ian and lean down to kiss him on the forehead lightly before I go into my dresser for some pajamas of my own. I pull out black sweats and a Guns 'n Roses shirt my dad gave me a few years ago before I go into the bathroom to take a shower.

I turn the water to warm, enjoying the warmth it provides to my body. I finish with the shower pretty quick so I can be with Ian in case something happens. I change into the pajama pants and over sized shirt before I leave the bathroom.

When I reach my room, putting my dirty clothes in my hamper, I realize Ian is sleeping. His breathing is even, his arms clutching my extra pillow tightly to his chest with the sheet barely drawn over half his legs. I smile a bit and put my keys, phone, and wallet on my nightstand next to Ian's phone. I realize before I turn out my light that it would probably be a good idea to call Ian's dads, one of them anyway. Haiden.

I pick up Ian's phone because I don't have his dads' numbers, and hope he doesn't have a lock on his phone. Thankfully he doesn't so I go to his ICE contacts, assuming his dads will be listed and they are. I call him and hope he doesn't get mad at me for Ian staying here. The line rings three times before it's picked up.

"Ian, where the hell are you? Do you realize how late it is? Do you know how worried your father is right now? You leave the house this morning and haven't come home at all, God only knows what could have happened to you." Owen answers and I close my eyes, shaking my head as I pray to God that Owen won't come kill me.

"Um, actually, Ian is asleep. He came over to my house about half an hour ago. He was uh, upset. I don't really want to wake him up." I mumble, looking at Ian's relaxed sleeping form.

"Levy, of fucking course. What do you mean he's asleep? Why is he at your house? Why haven't you brought him home?" Owen demands icily and I cringe.

"He just fell asleep. He wanted to see me, I guess. But he's kind of feeling under the weather. I think it's food poisoning." I add but then widen my eyes when I realize I probably should not have told Owen that Ian is sick.

"He's sick?! He needs to come home. Where do you live? I'll get him right now." Owen growls.

"No, no. He's okay, I think it was just mild food poisoning. He threw up in my mom's flower bed. I honestly think it's best if he stays over tonight. I'll take him home early tomorrow or take him to school if he wants. He'll be okay here." I assure. There's a pregnant pause that makes me wonder if Owen will even agree, followed by muffled voices that I assume belong to Owen and Haiden.

"Fine, fine, fine. He can stay the night. But I swear on my father's grave, if he comes back with a single scratch, or comes back upset, I'm going to kill you." Owen snaps in irritation but I know he's just worried about Ian.

"Thank you, thank you so much." I sigh in relief until he speaks again.

"But I want to talk to him. To make sure he's okay." Owen adds. I stare at the far wall before hanging my head because I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"Okay," I reply because I can't exactly fight with him. I put the phone down on the dresser and tap Ian but he doesn't make any move to show me he's awake.

"Babe," I whisper, sitting down on the bed next to him and shaking him slightly. He lets out a long groan but his tired, glossy eyes open to look at me expectantly.

"Whaa?" he huffs.

"Owen wants to talk to you," I state, lowering my voice. "Try not to sound drunk." I add and he nods, seeming a bit more alert.

I hand him the phone and he yawns, blinking twice.

"Daddy?" he answers and I bite my lip at that, smiling. He clears his throat and nods slowly. "I'm good, just tired. What? I wanted to see him."

There's a pause and I can hear the distant, distorted voices through the phone. Ian yawns again and nods, shutting his eyes.

"I know. I love you too. I'll be home after school tomorrow." He manages without slurring or pausing, or stuttering, and he hangs up. He puts the phone back on the nightstand before his eyes fall shut and his breathing starts to even out.

"Ian," I try, realizing he's still holding my pillow to his chest, while using my other as, well, a pillow. Of course he's asleep before I can get him to give me the pillow so I just drop my head in defeat. I get up and move across the room to my light switch. I shut the light off, blinking but not moving as I adjust to the dark.

When I can make out most of everything I slide into bed, but realize with a heavy sigh that I have to go change Ian's clothes to the dryer or else they won't be dry for tomorrow. I enjoy the comfort of my bed for a little longer before I get back up, moving through the dark room and ramming my foot into what I can only guess is the end of my bed.

I swallow any curses I may have uttered to the bed and instead limp to my door. I open it, go back to the laundry room where I wait another five minutes for the washer to stop before I toss the clothes in the dryer, checking the tags to make sure neither the shirt nor pants have to be air dried or something.

I make it back to my bed after that with no more run ins with inanimate objects and slide into the bed next to Ian. I lay my head on the mattress, closing my eyes but I know I won't be able to sleep without a pillow. So, with yet another sigh, I open my eyes to the bleak darkness.

"Ian." I call, shaking him lightly but he's already snoring lightly, and I really don't want to wake him up when he's actually sleeping. So instead I manage to pry my pillow from his tight grasp, laying it up by my head. I sigh and wrap my arms hesitantly around Ian's relaxed frame. When he doesn't do anything in response I relax and close my eyes.

"Goodnight babe, I love you." I whisper quietly.

When I'm nearly asleep in that not-quite dreaming state, I distantly feel his hands clutch mine. Then I finally fall into the peaceful sleep.