“Anxiety is real; depression’s very heavy.”

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A quiet car ride later and we were at my house. I was more than happy to see a car in the driveway. Mom hadn’t gone to work due to the emotional trauma from last night’s events. My guess was she didn’t leave the house all day. As sad as that sounded, that was the only way she knew to deal.

Vic and I walked up to the door silently. He waited for me to find the right key and unlock the door before he stepped inside and took off his shoes. Although I didn’t want to, I found myself watching his movements.

He looked so deep in thought yet so calm. Ever since we got in the car, he hadn’t said a single word, nor made a single sound. If he wasn’t moving in front of me, I’d have thought he was no longer in existence.

“You want something to drink?” I asked him.

He turned to face me. “Sure. Water, please.” I nodded and went toward the kitchen.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said as I was leaving the room.

I called out for my mom as I approached the kitchen. The music coming from the Bluetooth speaker we had in there got louder. No doubt that she was prepping for dinner.

“Oh, hey Kellin,” Mom said after jumping up when I poked her side. “By the way, that’s never funny.” I shrugged and went into the fridge for Vic’s water.

Usually when Mom’s in the kitchen I like to spook her by poking her side. She gets pretty distracted by the music playing so I like to remind her that I still exist.

“I brought a friend over,” I said. “I don’t know if he’s staying for dinner, but I doubt it.”

Mom nodded. “Which friend is this? Tyler? Trent?”

I shook my head. “Vic.”

“Who? You’ve never mentioned a Vic.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Sure I have.”

“Nope. The only new friends I know of by name are Lynn, Savannah, Tyler, Trent, Ashley, and Tori. You’ve never told me about a Vic.”

I hummed and shrugged quickly. “Well, Vic’s my music appreciation partner. We’re gonna be working in my room.”

Mom nodded before I walked out of the kitchen. I saw Vic on his phone when I stepped back into the living room. “Here,” I said to him before I tossed him the bottle of water. He nodded in thanks and took off the cap.

“So,” I started. Vic looked at me as he touched the bottle to his lips. “My mom’s gonna be making dinner, so if you don’t wanna hear her off-key singing, you should come to my room.”

“I heard that!” Mom yelled from the kitchen. Vic chuckled with that stupid grin on his face while I blushed from the slight embarrassment my mom had delivered.

“So, should we go?” Vic asked. I nodded and started walking toward the stairs. Vic followed a few steps behind.

“Don’t judge my room,” I warned before I opened the door.

“Just open the door, Quinn,” Vic chuckled. I huffed but opened the door anyway.

My room was cleaner than it was when we’d first moved. I still had some boxes in my closet that I was too lazy to move to the basement or attic, or wherever I decided to put them.

I’d hung my posters, organized my desk, and put my clothes in the closet. My bed wasn’t made, though, and I had some half-empty water bottles on my desk. They really were my biggest problem.

Vic took a few cautious steps into room and looked around. He didn’t say a word as he looked toward each of the walls. “You have great taste,” he said, his eyes on my Green Day poster.

“Thanks,” I mumbled shyly. That might’ve been the first compliment Vic had ever given me. I wasn’t sure how to react. “So, you wanna get to work?”

“Actually,” he said hesitantly, “I wanted us to talk. Can we talk?”

I looked at him quizzically with an eyebrow raised. “Talk about what?” Vic had mentioned in the parking lot that he wanted to talk to me, but with how he had been acting since we got in the car, I assumed that he decided to let it go. I guess I was wrong.

“Well,” he started. He looked me in the eye before saying, “What happened to you?”

My breath hitched a little, not only from the question but from the way he was looking at me. He was holding that stare as if he were to look away, I’d disappear into thin air.

Honestly, I don’t doubt that that would happen.

“Can we not talk about that?” I mumbled. I wasn’t sure he’d heard me.

“Please? I think we should.” So he had heard me. Fuck.

“Well I don’t wanna talk about it,” I said a little louder.

“Fine, you won’t have to talk.” I gave him another confused look as he walked to my desk chair and sat down.

“What are you doing?”

Vic shook his head. “No, you didn’t wanna talk so you’re not going to.”

More confusion washed over my face as I tried to piece together what he meant.

“It’s obvious that you got beat up, and you can’t even try to deny that. What I don’t know is who did that to you.” I gulped. “It had to happen after school since you were fine yesterday in the halls. So, question is: Did this happen on or off campus?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek when I realized what was happening. I had seen this on one of the many crime dramas Mom and I used to watch together. He was interrogating me, but he wasn’t expecting an answer. Instead, he was consciously putting together the puzzle and gauging my reaction. One way or another, he was going to get an answer, whether I spoke or not.

“So let’s see, where could this have happened? I’m pretty sure it didn’t happen on campus because I stayed late yesterday, and I didn’t hear about anything happening. So this probably happened off campus. Thing is, did you go straight home, or did you stop somewhere?”

He looked me up and down, as if trying to see something beyond my frame. “You seem like a homebody, so you probably went straight home. Did this happen on the way home? Here at the house? If it did, by who?”

My breathing began getting heavy. He was going to figure it out, I knew he was. He couldn’t figure it out. He couldn’t; he just couldn’t.

“Stop!” I yelled. The outburst came from sheer panic, but it sounded angry. Vic looked shocked, but also expectant. “Please stop,” I murmured, “please.”

Vic stood up and walked over to me. I was erratically trying to catch my breath at that moment. Why did Vic have to start this? Why couldn’t he leave this alone? Why did he need to know? This should stay with me. It should die with me. No one can know. No one can know. Vic can’t know. Vic shouldn’t know. Why won’t he leave? Please, please leave.

“Kell?” I could hear Vic’s voice, but it wasn’t registering. I knew he was still in the room, but I couldn’t bring myself out of this panic attack that was working its way through me.

“Hey, breathe with me, Kell.” I tried my best to listen. “I need you to open your eyes.” I hadn’t realized that they were closed. I opened them to see Vic’s worried face in front of me. “Okay, now, focus on four things in this room you can see.”

I looked around my room. Four things I can see. I saw a lot; how was I supposed to only mention four? Could I name more than four? There were so many things in this room. What if Vic thought I was stupid for not being able to name four things?

Just like that my anxious thoughts took over my mind once again, and I was sent back to my safe position. The one with my knees against my chest and my arms holding them there; tears streamed down my face as I shook from the irrational fear that Vic Fuentes would think I’m an idiot because I couldn’t name four fucking things I saw in a damn room.

“Hey, it’s alright,” I heard. “Breathe and focus.”

I tried to do what he said. Oxygen refused to enter my lungs, however. It was as if the air would get caught in my throat and stay there, as if it were trying to choke me out. How ironic.

“Listen to my voice.” I tired. “Focus on my voice.” I really tried. “Open your eyes.” I did. “Follow my fingers and breathe in.” I watched as he held his hand up, his fingers extended. With his other hand he touched the tips of his hand. “Focus on my hand and breathe in,” he instructed. I did as he said. I watched as his finger pointed to the fingers of his other hand.

“Great, now breathe out the same way.” I did as he said, watching as his finger went in the opposite direction. “Good, again.” I repeated the process two or three more times. When he noticed that I was breathing well enough on my own, he put his hands down.

“Now, let’s try this again. Focus on four things you can see. If it helps, tell me what they are.”

With slower breathing and a slightly clearer head I looked around my room. “Um, my Green Day poster.” I saw Vic nod out of the corner of my eye.

“That’s good,” he said.

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, thankful that I wasn’t making a fool of myself. “My textbooks,” I said as I looked at my desk. “Sunlight.” Vic turned his attention to my window where the sun was shining through the transparent material.

“You.”

Vic looked at me with a little shock on his face but smiled warmly. “Alright, three things you can touch.”

I looked down at my hands as they lay in their current position, hugging my legs close to me.

“My jeans.” Vic nodded. I slowly moved my hands from my legs and onto the floor. “The carpet. It’s really soft.” Vic smiled.

“What else?” he asked.

I looked around before resorting to tugging on my hair.

“Looks like you found something,” he said with a chuckle.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto my lips. ‘Yeah, my hair. I need to wash it.”

“Let’s not worry about that.” I nodded. “What are two things you can hear?”

I sat up a little to think. “The birds,” I said. I could hear them distantly as they flew farther away from the house. “Also, my mom’s music.” It wasn’t very loud, but she had turned it up since there wasn’t anyone downstairs with her.

“Good job, Quinn. One more.” I nodded. “One thing you can smell.”

I didn’t have to think too hard for this one before I said, “You.”

Vic’s facial expression matched the “Huh?” that escaped his lips.

“I mean your cologne. It smells nice.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” he stuttered. I giggled a little. This was a rare Vic; one that was nervous. I committed this picture to memory.

“You feeling better now?” he asked.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks so you can say I have some experience in these situations.”

I hummed then laid back onto the carpet. I was suddenly exhausted from the emotional landslide that just washed over Vic and me. I guess Vic was feeling the same way because he laid next to me.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he spoke softly after some silence. I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were focused on my ceiling fan. “I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve accepted that you didn’t wanna tell me right then, or hell, not at all. I’m sorry I caused this.”

“Why do you wanna know so badly?” I asked.

That was when he turned his gaze to me. “Because even if you hate me, I’m starting to care about you. I see you as someone who needs to be in my life.” I inaudibly gasped. “I see you as a friend, and maybe someday a best friend. I don’t want you to be afraid of me; I want you to be able to talk to me. I know it’ll take some time, and I’m sorry I started this friendship off on a bad foot, but I’d really like for us to work on getting on better terms.”

I took in all that Vic said as I stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to be my friend? Why? It didn’t really make much sense. The anxious part of me thought he was playing a joke on me. This whole afternoon could have been some elaborate scheme to get me at my weakest point.

“You wanna do something?” Vic asked, sitting up. When I didn’t answer he pulled out his phone and connected it to my speaker. “I think some tunes will get us out of this funk.”

Vic pressed play on his phone. Soon the sounds of Coheed and Cambria were filling the room. No sooner had the first verse begin, than he and I started singing along. I’d gotten off the floor and moved around the room with him, dancing and singing like an idiot.

We sat on the bed when the song concluded. I couldn’t help but think about everything Vic had said moments before. How he was concerned about me. How he was starting to care about me. How he wanted me to be comfortable with him; he wanted me to be his friend.

Then I thought, why did we have to be just friends?

Notes