I look through my hazy vision. Keeping up with his irritated strides is difficult as he leads me to God knows where.
Seeing our dressing room makes the fight drain from my body. Falling onto the couch, I look away from my pacing brother.
“Are you okay, bro?” His voice is strained with worry.
I grit my teeth. His rapid back-and-forth footsteps sound much louder in my head than I know they are.
“I’m fine. It just has to pass,” I whisper, hoping everyone but one person will leave me alone.
“You’re torturing yourself. Maybe you should get off the pills after the tour?”
I’ve been off Xanax for two weeks, and each day, it seems like it’s getting harder and harder and more difficult to ignore the agony prickling away at each of my organs. Yet I’m not going to start taking them again, only to restart this torture in a couple of months.
“I’m not giving up, Leonidas. I’m going through this shit only once.” Throwing my arm across my eyes, I try to block out the world.
“But is this the right time?” he stresses, his voice sounding closer than before.
I mumble, sinking further into the sofa, “Is there really any good time?”
I’m starting to get annoyed now. All I want is some peace and quiet and to avoid any grilling for at least a couple of hours.
“Leonidas, maybe this isn’t such a good time for this conversation,” my saving grace interrupts suddenly from somewhere, leaving no room for argument in her angelic, soft voice.
I hear shuffling.
“I hate seeing him like this, Lily.”
“I do, too, but he’s trying his best.”
Feeling her hands on my face melts the remaining ice that’s clogging up my veins and lets the warmth flow.
“This is just a rough patch, but when he gets over it, he’ll shine.”
I love her.
But not a love that’s starting to bubble and appear, but an inferno that’s spilling over the edges of my heart and drowning me from the inside out.
A love I’m afraid to live without now.
“Can I have a minute alone with him?”
I’m guessing my brother answers her question by quietly leaving the room. When I take my arm off my face, spotlights blind me. Blinking rapidly, I find my Sweet Cheeks sitting on her knees next to me.
“Hi there, nurse. My muscles feel a little tense. I think I need a full-body massage.”
She proves each day that she’s small but mighty. Her little fist hits my shoulder, and I let out anoofat the force behind her punch. I wind my arm around her waist and pull her up so she’s lying on top of me.
“Elijah, what are you doing?! I’m going to crush you right after you nearly had a panic attack!”
“I didn’t nearly have a panic attack,” I point out, not believing my own words. “And shush. You weigh as much as a fruit fly. I need you like this.”
We’re chest to chest. Her body heat becomes mine, and vice versa. No therapy will ever feel like this.
“Tell me what you need.”
I squeeze her tighter. The scent of vanilla coating her luscious locks invades my nose, sending shivers up my spine.
“Just you.”
