Back in his room he unbuttoned his shirt, and I tried not to look at him. Trying to give him the space he needs.
“You don't have to stay here.”
“I want to stay,” I tell him.
“Tonight this bed isn't big enough for the both of us.”
“We can sleep next to each other.”
“I don't want to sleep next to you.”
Valid. His emotions are valid and he is allowed to feel them. I won’t take that away from him no matter how much it hurts me.
“Give me a blanket and pillow. I’ll sleep on the floor, but I’m not leaving.”
Max goes to the small closet and reaches to the top shelf. He grabs a sleeping bag and two blankets. Despite him being unhappy with me, he goes about making a bed for me on the floor. He uses the sleepingbag as a little bed and covers it with the thicker blanket, tossing the thinner one down. Grabbing a pillow from his bed, he hands it to me.
I take it, our fingers grazing, but Max pulls back like I’ve burned him. “Max,” I say.
“Goodnight, Clayton.” I stand there like a fool, watching him as he crawls into bed, and flicks off the lamp.
Chapter 22
Maxwell
“AndthatiswhyI am going to die alone,” Mav retorts.
“Shut the fuck up. This is serious,” I say, my tone stern. Don’t get me wrong, I love my best friend, but sometimes having a serious conversation is harder than pulling teeth.
“Okay, okay.” He holds a hand up in surrender before puffing on his joint. “Why are you mad at him?”
“I told him something in private that I didn’t want people to know,” I explain. “I trusted him.”
Mav nods his heading, thinking for a moment before speaking. “Okay. Did you tell him not to tell anyone?”
“Well, no, but it seemed implied.”
“You have to communicate, man. You can’t walk around assuming everyone knows what you want,” Mav explains. “You trusted him. Do you remember when he trusted you?”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“And what did you do?” Mav encourages, waving a hand for me to answer.
“I broke it.”
“Ding, ding, ding. Did he forgive you?”
“Yeah,” I say, my shoulders slumping.
“Then you can’t stay mad at him. If someone didn’t deserve forgiveness, I’d say it’s you, but he sees you and hears you. Why don’t you see and hear him too?”
I look at my friend, blinking over and over. Dumbfounded, really.
“What?” He asks.
“When did you become so wise?”
“I’m not always an idiot.”
