Page 17 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

Eli

Criminal

Fuck.

I hold the toilet, red water a few inches under my face. Leon is out at this distillery with his bandmates, and I had to think fast to get him tofuck off. My stomach wrenches, pain lacerating throughout it as I puke again.

I don’t even know how I managed to text Phoenix. He won’t show up. I’ve been nothing but a monster. My eyes burn, my entire throat is raw, and more bloody bile shoots between my teeth.

Fuck.This hasn’t happened in a long time.

Grabbing a wad of toilet paper, I spit into the toilet and then wipe my mouth. I shift off my knees to sit on my ass, not even bothered that my cheek is pressed against the cool porcelain. I should probably call an ambulance, but that is the last thing I need right now. It’ll pass…it’ll stop. It always does. Cold sweat erupts over my bare back, but I feel on fire. Was it my pain meds? Or the shit that definitely wasn’t Adderall? I’m not a junkie, but they’re easy to spot in a crowd.

I shouldn’t have snorted that crap.

Nausea keeps swirling while I pant, nose dripping. Everything I’ve done lately keeps flashing in my head. God, I make shitty decisions. It’s like I can’t live without doing it. A spasm rocks my core, so I hunch inward more, one arm holding the toilet and the other holding my stomach. I can still taste the whiskey I drank earlier, mixed with vomit and blood. I’m shaking, legs cramping. I try to keep my eyes open, but they’re so heavy. Everything is so heavy.

He won’t come. Why would he? I don’t even know what prompted me to text him in the first place. Maybe because I don’t have friends. I don’t have anyone that gives a fuck about me, and I know that he still does—even though he shouldn’t. I want him, but he deserves better. He’s gone a year without me. He’s lived his life like I never existed. Sure, I ghosted him, but he never reached out.

He didn’t fuckingfight.

Is that why I’m doing this? Is that why I went out of my way to fuck Leon knowing he’d eventually put me right in Phoenix’s path?

I groan loudly, hurrying back to my knees as a fresh wave hits.

Holding on for dear life, I retch and retch, but nothing comes out. I cough, acid burning everything from my stomach up. I need Phoenix right now. Come tomorrow, I’ll be back to my old shit, but at this moment, I need him. When I’m reasonably confident I won’t hurl for a while, I plop back to my ass and breathe. My eyes flutter shut while I sag against the toilet. There’s soft thudding in the distance, but I can’t tell if it’s my imagination or my heart. I can’t lift my head or reach for my phone that slipped from my fingers.

“Eli?”

I’m here. I’m right here. It’s possible Leon came back already and he’s going to see what I've done but know first-hand what he’s sleeping with. I don’t want fuckingLeon.

“If you’re in there, say something, or I’m gone.”

I swallow, trying to get my tongue to cooperate. Coughing, I rasp, “I’m here.”

The sound of a door shutting hits my ears.

Using all my strength, I crack open my eyes and see Phoenix standing in the bathroom doorway. He folds his arms, hair damp from a shower, and looks down on me with disgust. But it’s in his eyes—one green and one brown—that I know he’s worried. I’ve seen that look too many times. I try to smile, but it doesn’t work.

“What the hell did you do?” he finally asks, angry, hurt, resistant.

I want to tell him that I need it to be quiet. I need it all to stop. I want to say to him that I hurt everywhere…all the time. But he won’t believe me. I know who he’s seeing, and it isn’t me.

It’s Oliver, his little brother.

Clenching his teeth and expelling a breath through his nose, he walks over to the toilet, flushes my bloody puke, and then goes over to the sink. He wets a washcloth aggressively, choking it like he probably wants to do to me. He squats down, still so tall, and grabs my jaw.

“Where’s Leon?” he spits, swiping the cool rag over my face. “Don’t want him seeing you fucked up?”

There’s no point in talking right now, so I look at him. I savor his fingers on my skin, the smell of his breath and conditioner. The first time I saw Phoenix, I was in awe of him. He doesn’t look like the guys I work with or act like them. If not for the fact I know his body like my own, you’d never suspect he is gay. I suppose his dad has a lot to do with that. I think that’s a huge reason I went after him. I like things I can’t have.

His hair falls down his chest in a thick chunk, making my fingers twitch to touch the soft tresses. God, his hair is always so soft. Smells so good. I look at his mouth, stiff, nearly a grimace. If I had more strength I'd try to kiss him to see if those lips can still give me butterflies. His eyes never meet mine while he pushes my hair back, pressing the rag to my forehead. God, I love his mouth. One time I told him he has Brad Pitt lips, and he sucked them between his teeth, a cute blush on his cheeks.

“Nothing to say?” he growls, shifting the rag to my neck and then draping it around. His fingers brush against my skin, and I shiver.

“No,” I croak, throat raw.

He drops his hands away. “Stop fucking with me. Stop the stupid mind games. You don’t have to be here.” He stands and heads for the door.

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