“I definitely wasn’t fucking kidding,Stardust. She’s the worst of the worst.” His eyes dart to the bathroom door, softening as if he can see Riley beyond the walls that separate us. “How’s your hand, by the way?”
I roll my eyes. “It was just a slap.” I flex my hand, remembering the rage I felt at hearing the vitriol and ire in Riley’s mother’s words. I truly believed Creed was exaggerating when he’d told me his mother was an evil bitch, but boy, was I fucking wrong. “Hopefully, she feels a fuck ton worse than my hand does, though.”
My heart cracks when I imagine a younger Riley, those big brown eyes looking at his mother with a love that would never be reciprocated. How could anyone see the beautiful man that he is, inside and out, and not fall in love?
Riley has been moving around almost in a trance from the moment we stepped in to get him away from his mother and her verbal abuse. I know there was a restraining order placed against her years ago, but I don’t know how it would work since we unknowingly stepped into her vicinity, not the other way around.
“Is he…will he be okay, Creed?”
His eyes remain locked onto the bathroom door as the water finally shuts off. For the first time, he doesn’t look entirely confident in his answer. “I…I hope so. All we can do is uplift him and love him through it.”
I nod, trying my best to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut.
The door opens, and Riley emerges wearing baggy sweats and an oversized hoodie. His freckles stand out against his bright red skin, which looks raw from scrubbing. His eyes are puffy, and his lips and nose are flushed, a clear sign that he was crying.
The feeling of dread grows as he remains silent and looks unsure of himself, standing in the middle of his own bedroom. He picks at the frayed edges of the cuff of his sleeve, his eyes trained on the ground as he sniffles.
“C’mere,” Creed murmurs sweetly, drawing Riley’s attention and opening his arms. It’s a silent invitation to seek comfort and to literally and figuratively lay his burden on us.
Slowly, Ri shuffles across the room to the bed. My stomach dips when he opts to sit against the headboard next to Creed instead of crawling into his arms. Creed’s expression remains neutral, so if Riley’s actions affect him in any way, he doesn’t let it show.
His attitude improves little by little as the evening goes on, until he falls asleep in his bed. Rather than move him to our bed, we leave him there and snuggle up around him instead. I could feel the distance he was trying to place between us, but I couldn’t help but slip my fingers between his before I fell asleep. I won’t push him, but I won't let him push us away.
Over the next several days, it proves to be one hell of a challenge.
He’s present, but he’s notherewith us.
He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.
He cooks, cleans, and keeps up with this therapy, but he doesn’t talk much about how he feels he’s doing as far as improvement goes.
It’s as if running into his mother and falling victim to her abuse has taken all of his pride and progress and torched it.
Blair tried to get him to go out for a few hours to run some errands with him, but even B noticed Riley’s changes.
None of us give up on him, though. As much as my mind is screaming at me to give him space, to let him figure it out on his own, I ignore it.
I still smile, joke, laugh, and encourage him to just be exactly who he is because that’s all we need. Creed still showers him with his own brand of affection. Teasing him, kissing whatever part of his face that he can reach. Losing his mind over something as simple as Riley looking particularly hot when he walks around in these short workout shorts and nothing else one morning.
I may or may not have gushed over it myself.
It seemed to be working to build him up until one night when he had a particularly bad nightmare after falling asleep in his own room. Creed and I rushed in to check on him, and he woke in a defensive panic. It resulted in an accidental elbow to myface. It wasn’t hard enough to break anything, but it did create a nasty bruise that my light coverage makeup couldn’t cover.
He fell right back into this unsure version of himself. He’s retreating, curling into the shell of armor that he keeps so carefully constructed around himself these days.
I try to remain optimistic, but the truth is hard to deny. I’m losing him, and I don’t know how to reach him this time.
CREED
I can feel the distance that Riley’s put between Collins and me, and it fucking hurts. I’m doing my best to keep up the illusion that I’m fine, but I’m far from it.
I’ve always been the man with a plan. The one who always has a positive outlook and confidence that it’ll all work out the way it was always intended to. Fuck all the rest.
Fuck his mother for poisoning his beautiful mind into thinking that he’s anything less than perfect. Goddamned cunt deserved what Collins gave her and then some. Nobody could’ve guessed or known that she now worked for the one restaurant that we frequented during long recording stints at the studio. He was doingsofucking good with his therapy, with his confidence, in taking life by the balls and going after all the things he wanted out of it.
But now? It’s fucked all to hell thanks to that piece of shit who birthed him. He tries to keep up the happy facade, but it’s fooling exactly zero people within this household.
It’s killing me, but what’s worse is the way it’s breaking Collins’ heart to see and feel him pulling away from her. He’s become her person just as much as I have. The person she turns to when she needs those tender, sweet moments that balance my chaos.
