Easton
12:17 PM: Hey, Madz. Is something wrong?
7:48 PM: I know something’s up, Maddy. You’re barely responding to me. What’s going on?
10:52 PM: I don’t understand. Why won’t you talk to me? What did I do wrong?
Maddox
10:58PM: You didn’t do anything wrong, East. I just need some space. I’m sorry.
eight
Maddox
There’sasoftknockon my bedroom door, and I glance up from where I’m sitting on my floor, my study materials scattered around me. “Yeah?”
The door slowly creaks open, and Alvarez’s head appears through the small gap. “Hey man. You got a minute?”
I close my exercise physiology and kinesiology textbook, thethwackechoing through my room. “Of course. What’s up?”
He steps inside and quietly shuts the door while running a hand through his short dark hair. He leans against the door and drums his fingers against the wood. I cock my head. He won’t meet my eyes and is just being all…shifty.
“You’ve been up here a lot lately,” he tells my lamp.
“I’d hope so, considering its purpose is to light my room. I think it’d be more concerning if we found it walking around.”
He lets out a sigh like I’m the most exasperating person in the world, but his lips tilt up, and he finally meets my gaze. “You know what I mean, Barnes. I just… Are you okay, man?”
It’s my turn to avoid his stare. An iron band locks around my lungs, and my body goes into panic mode. I dig my fingers into the area rug.Breath, Maddox. But I can’t. It hits me sometimes, and I’m helpless against it. Have you ever taken a ball to the chest or gut? All it takes is a second, and then you. Just. Can’t. Breathe. You don’t even have time to register what happened. That’s me every time thoughts of Easton surface.
“Maddox,” Alvarez says softly. “I… Man, I hear you at night.”
My pulse stutters. I’ve tried to be quiet, to smother the emotion that is wrenched from me under the cover of darkness beneath pillows and blankets.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I just want to make sure you’re okay. That you’re not… Ah, you’re not falling into too dark a place.”
My head whips to his. For the first time, I register the fear radiating from him. His paler-than-normal skin, his clenched fists, his shifting feet.
“Shit, Gare. No. It’s not like that. I’m not… I’m going through some shit, but I promise I’m not going to do anything.”
Fuck. I’m not going to do anything drastic. I’m not going to harm myself. My stomach twists painfully tight. Self-harm. Suicide. The things we’re not voicing but are deafening in the silence of my bedroom. Things that aren’t talked about enough. Very real issues that could be prevented if only people did talk about them. Like Gare is right now.
“Join me?” I ask and point to the floor.
He pushes some books aside and drops to the floor. He’s hefty, but agile as all hell. Most catchers are, spending the majority of their time in a crouch. His brown eyes meet mine, and there’s no less concern shining in them than before.
“What’s going on with you, Madz? I know I’m not Winters, but I’m here if you need someone to talk to. Or if you need to talk to a professional, I’ll help you find someone. GCSU has a hotline, you know?”
My heart breaks further and fuses back together at the same time. With the feelings this conversation thrusts to the surface, the loneliness of being without East for the first time in my life, the devastation that comes from destroying my own heart with the severing of contact I recently made. But the support and care of my roommate sitting across from me is relief on the wound. It’s small and simple, him coming in to ask if I’m all right. Small gestures like that are rare, rarer than they should be.
“Thanks, Gare,” I say quietly. “It means more than I can say, you making sure I’m okay. I’m…I’m not. But it’s not entering dangerous territory. Things have been…really fucking difficult. Harder than I thought they’d be.”
His dark brows are scrunched together, and he studies me like he’s trying to figure out which pitch to call next. “It’s Winters, right? I know you two were really tight. Does it have to do with him being gone?”
My gaze drops, and I pull at a pill in my rug. “Partly. I, uh…” I blow out a breath. “We’re not currently speaking,” I whisper. It’s all my throat will allow. “My choice,” I choke out.
“How come?” There’s no judgment in Alvarez’s tone. Just a soft reassurance. That he’s here for me, that I’m safe to talk about what I’m going through.
