“I have to work. I’ve already missed a week. I can’t skip anymore.”
“What about tomorrow?”
He didn’t respond.
“I wanted to know if you had plans at lunchtime on Friday?” I heard myself croak out, palms sweating, as panic filled me. “Because there’s some place I need to be and I was, uh, well, I was really hoping that you could come with me.”
More silence.
“Joe?”
Jerking upwards, he looked around himself, seemingly startled, before slumping back down on his elbows. “Hm?”
“Do you have plans on Friday?”
“I, ah, I don’t know,” he mumbled, sounding beyond exhausted. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, are you busy at lunch today?” I tried instead. “I mean, do you have training or anything like that happening? Because I really need to talk to you in private about something.”
“I don’t want to talk in private,” he replied quietly. “Not today, Molloy.”
“But you don’t even know what I want to talk to you about,” I squeezed out. “It’s important.”
“Whatever it is, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m too fucking tired, Molloy.”
“You have to know I didn’t mean it,” I blurted, addressing the elephant in the room. “All of that shit I spurted out the last time we were together? It wasn’t me, Joe.”
He stiffened.
“I didn’t mean it, okay?” Reaching up, I placed a hand on his back, frowning when I felt the heat emanating from his body. Jesus, he was burning up. “I swear, Joe. Not one word of it.”
“Yeah, you did.” The muscles in his back coiled tight under my touch. “And it’s okay. I don’t blame you.”
“I don’t blame you for what happened, Joe,” I told him, feeling achingly vulnerable in this moment. “And I don’t want space. I never want space from you.”
“Neither do I,” he replied quietly. “But just because we don’t want something doesn’t mean that we don’t need it.”
Anxiety churned inside of me. “What does that mean?”
“It means what it means, Molloy.”
“Look at me.”
He didn’t.
“Joe.”
“Just let it go, Molloy.”
“Joey Lynch, you better look at me.”
Blowing out a pained breath, he leaned back in his chair, rested his hands on his lap, and reluctantly looked at me.
All of sudden it made perfect sense.
The drowsiness.
The lethargy.
The scorching hot skin.
Eyes as black as coal.
“Oh my god.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “What did you take?”
“Nothing.”
He moved to turn his face away, but I caught his chin between my fingers and forced him to look at me. “What did you take?”
“Nothing,” he argued before releasing a pained breath. “Today.”
“Yesterday?”
He nodded slowly.
“And the day before?”
Another nod.
My heart broke further.
“When did it start?”
Silence.
“When did it start?”
“After I left your place.”
Oh god, no…
“So, we’re talking a week?”
“About that.”
“What was it?” I forced myself to ask. “What did you take?”
“Not what you think.”
“What did you take, Joey?”
“Not that.”
“I didn’t ask you what you didn’t take,” I hissed, heartbroken and furious. “Tell me what you took, dammit.”
His eyes locked on mine, and stayed there, focusing on me as best as he could, given that he was clearly under the influence. “Just some pills and shit.”
“And shit?” I glared at him. “What does and shit consist of? Because I’ve been with you long enough to know that when you say the words pills and shit, your meaning can vary wildly.”
“Molloy.”
“So, what are we talking about here? A joint, a line, or a fucking needle.” It felt like I had been transported back in time to a place I never wanted to revisit. “Oh my god.” My breath hitched in my throat. “Why, Joe, why?”
“Why do you think?” he whispered brokenly, still obediently keeping eye contact with me, as I held his chin in my hand. “I broke you.”
“No, Joe, you didn’t break me.” I shook my head and blinked back the tears stinging my eyes. “You broke you.”
“It’s my fault.” He looked away then, pulling his face free. “What happened to you is on me.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.“
“I brought you into that house,” he hissed, swinging back to glare at me. “I put you in harm’s way and harm got you.”
“I’m okay,” I choked out, reaching up to touch his cheek only to feel the sting of rejection when he leaned away from my touch. “Don’t do this. Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for.”
“I don’t have anything, Molloy,” was his lifeless response. “I never did.”
“You have me,” I breathed, chest rising and falling quicky, as I fought to maintain my composure in a classroom surrounded by peers. “You still have me, Joe. I don’t blame you, okay? I don’t.”
“I’m him.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.” He shrugged. “You said it yourself.”
“That was my hurt talking,” I choked. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It was your brain talking,” he corrected. “It was your truth.”
“Joey, come on.“
“I can’t.” I watched as another shiver rolled through him. “I can’t do this right now, Aoife.”
“Can’t do what?” I strangled out, cheeks flooding with heat, as my pulse skyrocketed. “Can’t talk to me? Can’t look at me? Can’t be with me? What?”
“I can’t do this.” I watched as he dragged his hands through his hair in frustration. “Yeah, I definitely can’t do this,” he muttered, shoving his chair back, and grabbing his bag off the floor, as he rose to his feet. “I’m out.”
“Sit down, Joseph,” Miss Lane ordered from her desk. “Class is just about to start.”
“Yeah, without me,” he shot back, moving for the classroom door.
“Don’t even think about walking out of this classroom,” she commanded, holding a hand up in warning. “You’re already on a red book. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”
“Kind of like how me telling you to get fucked would make it worse?” he sneered, slamming his palm against the door, causing it to swing open in a whoosh. “Well, it looks like I just did, huh?”
“Joseph!”
“Get fucked, miss,” he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, storming away.
“Oh god.” Dropping my head in my hands, I resisted the urge to chase after him. I managed to last a whole three minutes until I caved, bolting out of my chair and moving for the door like my life depended on it.