Chapter 34

It had been two nights since Chris hadn't come home, and although I was grateful that I had a break from his drinking, and talking about E.J. I was also kinda worried that something bad might have happened to him.

"Yes E.J. Two days already. If he doesn't come home tonight, it will make it three," I speak into the phone while I make Chris' bed. In the last two days I have been so bored, and hoping to show some appreciation I have cleaned the apartment, did the laundry, and even somehow got the crustiness out of Chris' bedding so that he can have some fresh linen for a change.

"I'm sure he will be back soon. I've texted him and he read my messages, which at least means he's alive," E.J. sighs on the other side.

I can hear the frustration in his voice. It has been more than a week since we have seen each other. More than a week where I wasn't able to touch his hand, or hold him in my arms, or even stare into his sad and soulful eyes.

"I really am worried about him. He drinks until he passes out every single night. I have no idea how he does it. I can't believe he is still alive. I mean, how does he even get all the damn beer? He's not even legal yet," I murmur the same thing into the phone that I have speculated about every single day. "I mean, Chris isn't a bad guy, and let's be honest, he looks like a Calvin Klein model or something. He can do so much better than this."

"It's his life Brody," E.J. gives another sigh.

"Yeah, it might be his life, but we should seriously at least try to help him," I answer.

"You can't save the whole world," E.J. answers. "And you don't know Chris the way I do. If you try to help him, it will just make things worse in the end. Believe me. I've literally known him all my life. And he will get over this, as soon as he wants to, and not a moment earlier."

We chat a little bit further before I end the call in a lot of frustration.

I've never been Chris' biggest fan. Hell, I will be honest enough to say I don't like him at all. Or maybe, I didn't like all the things I have heard about him, but seeing him every single day, seeing his self-destructive nature and the way he is slowly trying to kill himself breaks my heart. I can't understand why someone like Chris will just throw everything away when he has so much potential, and obviously so much love to give.

"I might not be able to save the world, but I can at least try to save one person," I say out loud as I plump up the last pillow before turning and looking around the apartment to see what I have done.

The dirty marks on the kitchen cupboards are long gone, as are the dirty dishes and the mold I found at the bottom of two pots. The carpets are clean, the bathroom is sparkling, and above all - the ugly pink couch now has a light blue throw and a few throw pillows, covering it completely and making it look like a brand new piece of furniture. Even the air in the apartment smells better after I managed to get the one window that seemed to be glued shut with grime open, and the air freshener I had gotten the previous day at the shop. Sure, it's no Buckingham Palace, but at least it feels a little bit more like a home, and a little bit less than the back room of a seedy adult bookstore.

The buzzing of my phone makes me pull it out and look at the Instagram notification.

I can't help but smile when I look at yet another picture; probably the millionth time this week, of Cameron and Will embraced in each other's arms. Only this time...

"Answer... Answer..." I mutter as the phone rings on the other side. Sure, I could have texted, but some things are worth making a phone call.

"I thought you said you were gonna take a shower?" E.J. asks as he picks up the phone.

"I got distracted. But seriously! Go on Cameron's Insta. Like right now!" I almost yell into the phone. "You need to see this."

"Just hold on," E.J. answers and I can hear the change in sound as he puts me on loud speaker and starts making his way to his Instagram app.

"Hurry! I can't hold it in any longer!" I scream into the phone.

"Oh my..." I hear E.J. say into the phone. "Is this real?"

"Well yeah, did you see the size of the ring? It looks like Lady Lalaland picked it," I answer as I give a little bit of a giggle.

"But they barely know each other," E.J. says. I can hear him taking a few deep breaths. "I mean, it's only been a few weeks. Not that long actually, and now they're engaged."

"And by the look of that ring, I think Cameron fell into some money. Who would have thought," I wonder out loud. Looking at Will I would have never thought that he would have loads of money, but the ring looks like something that Elizabeth Taylor would have worn, or rather, something that Lisa Vanderpump from the Housewives of Beverly Hills has on her hand.

"I'm sure it's not a diamond. I don't think you would get a diamond that big laying around," E.J. answer. I can hear the wheels in his head turning as he is trying to get around the idea that Cameron and Will are now officially engaged. "It's just so damn fast."

"My mom always said that when you know, you know," I answer. For a moment I wonder if that counts for everyone. I could easily see myself getting engaged to E.J. Not marry yet, but being engaged to him would be nice.

"Yeah... Maybe..." he answers back after a while. "Look, I've got to go. I need to watch my brother while my mom goes to get some groceries."

"I miss you E.J." I hate the desperation in my voice, but I can't help the words escaping my mouth.

"I miss you too," he answers, and before I can say anything else, let alone goodbye, the line dies, leaving me looking at the ring on Cameron's finger again.

Congrats! So happy for the two of you. I'm sure Lady Lalaland also loves the ring!

I post the comment and watch for a few seconds to see if Cameron is going to comment back, but I guess he must be too busy celebrating to sit and answer comments on Instagram.

I pick myself up from the couch again, wondering if I should order in gain, or if I should get out of the apartment for a change and get something to eat at a real restaurant.

A shiver runs down my spine as a cold gush of air comes in through the window, making me instantly decide that staying in would be the better option. I close the window and walk over to the kitchen to switch on the new kettle I bought online; the one Chris hasn't even seen yet. Maybe he will be angry about it, but I don't care. I needed hot water, and above all, I need some hot chocolate in this cold weather.

I wait for the water to boil, but just before it reaches boiling point, a key crunches in the front door, and within a second Chris comes stumbling in, clearly drunk off his feet, his hoodie ripped on the one side, blood clinging to his bottom lip and left eyelid.

"What the fuck?" I exclaim as I make my way over to him, being just in time to catch him in my arms as his legs give way from underneath him.

"The bitch!" he mumbles loudly. "The fucking bitch!"

"What's going on?" I almost scream, noticing the dried blood on Chris' clothing, the blue marks on his face, the cleaved open lip, and the swollen eye.

"I'm okay," he mumbles as I drag him towards the couch, not even giving a damn about the new throw on it, and that in Chris' state it might get dirty.

"You are not okay," I say as I try and get the ripped hoodie over his head, hoping that I can scope out the amount of damage that has been done to him.

Underneath his hoodie he isn't wearing anything.

I gasp, making Chris look up at me. It's like he knows I am here, but he looks through me.

"Is it that bad?" he mumbles. "It didn't feel too bad."

I look down at his upper body. The bruises around his neck, the gash over his stomach that seems to still be oozing a bit of blood, and the multiple blue and red marks that covers his toned body.

"It's bad Chris. I think you need to go to a hospital. That cut looks deep," I say, trying to keep my voice from trembling, wondering what other injuries I will find on Chris.

"It's not that bad," Chris mutters. "I've had worse. I'm just thirsty."

It's only when he says it that I notice his chapped lips, a white layer already forming on them because of the dryness.

"I'll get you something," I say as I walk over to the fridge and take out one of Chris' cold beers.

"No beer. Just water," he says as I hand it to him. "I can't drink right now."

For a moment I'm startled, but then I turn around and get out one of the bottles of sparkling water I bought for myself, opening it up and filling up a glass before I walk back to him.

He gulps the water down as if he has had nothing to drink for days.

"More..." he says as I watch him take the last sip.

I refill the glass and watch him empty it with almost as much enthusiasm as I have seen him drink down beer in the past.

"More..." he mumbles once more.

It's only when the entire big bottle of water is finished that he finally puts down the glass and looks at me, his eyes scanning between me and the apartment.

"It looks good," he says, trying to push his fingers through his hair as he normally does, but he winches from the cut on his stomach and brings his arm down again.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?" I ask. "Where have you been?"

"You're not my warden Brody."

The temporary nice look he had when he told me the apartment looks good, fades.

"You come here, after being away for days. You are bruised, bloody and with cuts on your lip and stomach. I think I have the right to know what happened," I answer, sitting down on the banged up coffee table, now hidden underneath a nice piece of cloth I have bought to make it look a little bit more renovated.

"Once upon a time, there was a boy. He got beat up. The end," Chris answers with a mean sneer around his mouth.

"Fine. Don't tell me," I answer as I get up from the table and walk back to the kitchen, this time taking a Dr. Pepper out of the fridge, cracking it open, and gulping it down with almost the same speed that Chris drank his water.

"There's clean bedding on your bed," I mention. "You might want to take a shower before you get in it. And we will need to disinfect that cut on your stomach before it gets infected."

"Sure," Chris says as he stands up and makes his way over to the bathroom, limping as he does so.

When the door closes behind him and the water from the shower turns on, I walk over to the couch and sit down, resting my head in my hands for a moment, before I pull out my phone and send a text to E.J.

Brody: Chris is home. Not in good shape at all. Bruises and cuts everywhere.

I don't need to wait long before I receive a reply.

E.J.: What happened?

Brody: He doesn't want to say. Just said he was in a fight. But some of the marks on him looks days old already. Some look new.

E.J.: I hope it isn't drugs or something.

Brody: It would not surprise me. The shower just turned off. I will text you in a minute.

E.J.: Keep me posted.

I stare at the screen of my phone, pretending to be scrolling through Instagram as Chris emerges from the bathroom, his hair wet, water dripping from his body, and a towel loosely tied around the waist.

"You really want to know what happened to me?" Chris asks, walking over to the kitchen and getting himself a beer.

I nod my head.

"Get some salt water and help me clean the wounds," he answers walking over to his bed.

I boil the kettle, and within minutes I am making my way to Chris' 'room' with the salt water and some paper towels I grabbed.

Chris is still standing in front of the bed.

"Thanks dude," he says, gesturing to the bed, before he takes the towel around his waist, and lays it out on the bed.

I avert my eyes for a few seconds, not wanting to stare. When I look back he is laying on his stomach, and yet again I gasp.

"That bad, huh?" Chris asks, his hand slowly going towards his but cheek before he pulls his hand away slowly.

It looks like he has been hit with something hard really hard. Beating after beating, which it looks like, has made thick swollen horizontal lines over his ass. Red, and with blood still daring to seep out.

"It's pretty bad. I don't know how you sat down on the couch," I whisper.

"Yeah. It's sore now. It wasn't that sore earlier. Guess the life is coming back," he says. "So will you help me clean it? I can't exactly see down there."

I sit down on the bed next to him.

"This might burn," I say as I dip the paper towel into the salty water, and start cleaning his wounds.

Chris' body tenses, but he doesn't let out a single sound.

"I met this guy, Jaycee a while ago," Chris says. "He started coming in for coffee every other morning. And I thought he was really cute. He always tipped nice and big. But seriously, hot guy. Blonde, blue eyes. He kinda looks a little bit like Brad Pitt when he was young."

I wipe the bit of blood that resurfaces every few seconds away from the wounds as Chris talks.

"I thought he really liked me. And I liked him back. We actually went out about four months ago. He took me to dinner. Even bought me roses."

"I didn't take you for the romantic type," I say, a bit surprised by the tenderness that Chris spoke with.

"I'm not," he answers. "But it was right after my mom died."

"You're mom died? E.J. never told me that," I say as I wipe over the wounds a bit heavily, making Chris winch.

"Sorry..." I say.

"It's okay. E.J. couldn't have told you. He doesn't know yet. He was going through a rough time at home again. His mom had that new boyfriend that wanted to be this strict ass dad figure, and E.J. wasn't really coping with again having a strange man in the house. So I figured he had enough on his plate for the moment," Chris answers. "I think you've touched my ass enough now."

"I still have a bit more to do," I answer, wiping at a bit faster pace. "I'm sorry about your mom."

"It's fine. She was a drunk bitch," Chris mutters, the bitterness in his voice hanging heavy between us. "In any case... Back to Jaycee. So he took me out, bought me roses. Opened up the door of the car. He's a bit younger than me actually, but he drives this massive ass expensive car. He dresses nice as well. And you should see his place. At first I thought he was joking. He drove me home, but on the way he needed to pick up something at his house. I couldn't believe it. But then I thought he must be a trust fund baby or something."

Chris stays silent for a while. I try to imagine Chris thinking that he had found Prince Charming. I try and picture a happy Chris, who laughs, and smiles, and goes on dates, but weirdly, I just cannot picture it at all. Maybe I'm too used to the unhappy Chris who seems to hate everything and everybody, including himself.

"I think I'm done cleaning everything," I say.

"Cool," Chris says, turning around slowly. Again I avert my eyes until he has covered what he needed to. "Maybe just take a look at this cut."

Now that it's washed the cut on his stomach doesn't look at bad as I thought it was. It's little bit more than a graze by the looks of it. In any case, not deep enough for stitches, but definitely deep enough to leave a light scar in the near future.

"I think I had been dating Jaycee about a month when I asked him what he labeled us as. He didn't even answer. I told him that I was falling in love with him, and he ignored me. All of a sudden he didn't return my phone calls, and we didn't go on dates any longer. But then something happened. I got messed up with a weird crowd, and then I got mugged. I couldn't pay my rent. This was a few weeks back," Chris sighed. "That's when you and E.J. left on your little holiday, and here I was, with nobody to ask, still in debt because of my mom's cremation. So I had to make a plan if I didn't want to be evicted. I phoned Jaycee for help."

I could only imagine what Chris had been going through all by himself. With no friends in the world near him, his mother just dying, being mugged, his boyfriend ghosting him, and then on top of it all thinking that he might be homeless very soon.

"Well, safe to say that Jaycee is not a trust fund baby. He worked for him money. At the beginning he worked really hard, and now others do the heavy lifting, and he just cashes in. So when I asked him, he was all lovable again, telling me that I would have to pay him back, which was fine at first, but he didn't actually want me to pay him back in money. He needed a new employee."

"I'm guessing this has something to do with prostitution?" I ask the words that almost unwillingly leaves my lips.

Chris nods, as he rolls off the bed, and starts searching in a drawer. This time I don't look away from his naked body. He doesn't look like a Brad Pitt type anymore. He looks like a child. Someone who should have had someone protecting him from the bruises and wounds over his body. He should have had parents that made sure he had enough to live on, and that if he didn't he would always have a room back home. He has always been a bit of an asshole, but this was something else completely. This was a Chris I have never seen.

"In any case... Rent has been paid," Chris mutters as he pulls on some boxers. "And now I really need some sleep."

"Sure," I answer, knowing when a conversation is over.

"And Brody?" Chris asks just as I leave his little space. "Don't tell E.J. what I just told you. It might trigger him."

"Are you going to do it again?" I ask.

"Dunno. Probably depends on what the future holds, I guess," he answers, already getting into bed.

"I can always help you out," I answer, thinking about the thousands just waiting in my bank account.

"Goodnight Brody."

"I'm serious Chris," I answer.

"I said; goodnight Brody."

"Goodnight then," I sigh.

"Thank you."

It's barely a whisper, but I heard it. Knowing Chris will be okay, I take my place on the couch, text a message to E.J. telling him that all is well, and finally settle down.

A sleepless night is in front of me, but I don't mind. Chris had finally surprised me. More than I ever thought he would. I could never see what E.J. saw in him, but now I understand. He might be a mean asshole, but he would protect the ones he loves, no matter what.