“Good,” he muttered. “Were you still wanting to go meet your friends?”
I shrugged, my finger absently tracing the logo on the front of his shirt. “I should.”
“But do you want to?”
“A little bit.”
“Then you should go.” He released me and I pulled myself up to stand from the bed.
“I’m going to shower. Are you heading home now?”
“I’ll leave when you do,” he said, his hand, curling beneath his cheek as he watched me retrieve my clothing items from the floor.
I nodded, unbothered by his lingering presence in my space and walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door. I faced away from the mirror as I got undressed. I rarely looked at my own body, even when I was changing or showering. I didn’t need any reminders of how fucked-up it was.
I showered as quickly as possible and got out. I applied some sunscreen to my face and reached for my underwear on the counter with my clean clothes.
“Fuck,” I muttered, sifting through the clothes I had pulled from my closet. I had managed to forget clean underwear and a bra from my dresser.
“Enoch!” I called out from behind the door.
“Yeah?”
“Can you go out into the living room? I forgot to grab some stuff from my dresser.”
There was a moment of silence before he replied. “Okay. I’ll close your bedroom door.”
I waited a moment for him to leave before cracking open the bathroom door. My shoulders relaxed when I saw that he was gone. I finished getting dressed and brushed my hair out. I didn’t want to deal with any tangles, so I used the hair dryer to get it completely dry. I grabbed a hairbrush and two small elastics before walking out to the living room. I found Enoch standing in the kitchen, staring at the calendar on the wall.
He spun around with a smile as he took in my new appearance.
“You look hot.”
My cheeks flamed and I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
I focused on braiding my hair as I watched him turn back to the calendar. “Is this…is this the days since your suicide?”
I stared at his back with shock.How the hell did he figure that so quickly?
He eyed me when I didn’t respond, and I shook myself from my stupor. “Y-yeah.”
He nodded, his mouth twisting with thought. “I used to count them too.”
I blinked, hands paused in the section of hair I was braiding.
“I used to count the days I’d lived without you. What I don’t get is why you were counting.”
I cleared my throat, resuming my hand motions as I braided my hair. “After I ‘died’, I started counting the days I had managed to keep living.”
Enoch’s sad eyes held my own for an intense moment of silence, and I had to look away.
I finished my braids and walked to the hooks by the front door where I had my bag and a couple of coats. I figured I’d need a jacket, especially if we were going to be out there late, but I didn’t want to bring a big bag. I pulled off a smaller crossbody bag and carried my backpack to the counter. I started pulling things out that I needed to transfer to the smaller bag and paused when Enoch reached for the bottle of eye drops.
“What’s metha-methex—?”
I cut him off, “Steroid eye drops.”
“Do they help?” he asked.
