He’s sweaty, and his skin is flushed and hot to the touch. Looking around, there doesn’t seem to be a window, and the heavy blankets aren't helping. But otherwise, he seems okay, just in a deep sleep.
“Jamie, can you hear me? What happened?”
Shuffling closer, I kneel by the bed and reach for his hands. What the—? I look down and realise I’m kneeling in old, dried in sick. The smell radiates my way thanks to the heat.
I hold back a gag and throw a t-shirt already on the floor on top of it, since I can’t clean it up right now.
I shake Jamie’s shoulder lightly to wake him again.
He looks gaunt, but not unwell. Like he’s been through something stressful.
He lies in his dorm bed that looks far too small for his frame, in nothing but his shorts. He looks so fragile, and with the sick by the bed, panic sets in that he might have taken something.
“Jamie. Jamie. I need you to wake up. Have you taken something?”
Rubbing small circles into his shoulders, I try to be loud enough for him to hear me without it turning into a panicked yell. I tap my toes inside my boots to ground myself. Jamie needs me right now, and I can’t let my worry take over what he needs from me.
He stirs, opening his eyes slightly to take me in. They are bloodshot and haunted, which only adds to my concern.
“Oh,” he states with a sleepy slur before closing his eyes again. “Thought you were him.”
“Who Jamie? It’s me, Arnie. You’re okay. Wake up and tell me what happened.”
But he ignores me, rolling away to face the stone wall.
I ache to wrap my arms around him, breathe in his scent and promise him it’s all going to be okay. But if I want to help him, I need a plan here since he won’t talk to me. I scan the room and see his phone on the floor by his jeans.
It’s dead, which I knew it would be. Finding the charger on the wall by the bed, I plug it in and then set about coaxing Jamie into getting up and dressed.
He hasn’t showered since he was in my bathroom on Sunday, if the stale smell in the tiny room is anything to go by.
“Come on, Jamie, let’s get in the shower. You can’t stay in bed all day.”
As I reach over to tug him towards me, he rolls over himself. Tears threaten to spill out of his pretty eyes, his chin wobbling from holding back the intense emotion that looks ready to burst. His shadowy grey eyes finally meet my gaze.
I sit on the bed and pull him until he’s on my lap. He melts into me; his head burrowed into my neck.
I massage circles as I grip his waist, whispering encouragement as he breaks his heart against me. My eyes well in response.
It’s heart-renching to watch him like this. I want to ward off whoever caused it. My blood boils as he gulps in breaths to regulate himself, and eventually his rapid chest slows down.
“I…it’s my…” he tries to say, hiccupping throughout.
“Shh. Shh. Let’s get washed up first, Jamie, then you can tell me everything. I’m here to help you. Whatever it is. I promise.”
I barely recognise my voice as I make that promise. I’ve been on my own for so long. For a long time, I’ve only considered myself. Only looking out for my needs or close circles.
Jamie has broken something in me. Unsure if it’s a bad thing, I tuck it away for now.
I manage to cover him with a bathrobe and grab his shower caddy before making our way to the showers. His head restsagainst my shoulder as we walk, a passive look on his face, as if he’s away in another world.
What happened to this poor boy?
It’s thankfully empty when we reach the showers. I help him undress from the robe and his shorts. He looks so frail, like he’s lost a lot of weight, despite it only being a couple of days since he was bent over my desk, taking his punishment from me.
He doesn’t even try to stand, sliding down the white tiles to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees to his chest. I can’t stand to see him like this. His usual bouncy curls are now dull and cover his fear crossed face.
He wipes at the tears on his cheeks with a shaky hand before muttering, “You can leave. I’ll be fine.”
