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"Are we thinking of getting out of bed today...?" Alexander heard Aaron ask from beside the bed. Alex didn't bother replying or looking up at him, the silence indicating a "no."
When Aaron didn't protest, Alex assumed he had left. Just as every other day. Then he felt like the bed was tipping, startling and grabbing onto the sheets for support. His eyes flew open, finding Aaron seated on the bed next to him. Alex stared at him, blank confusion filling his mind.
Aaron's expression was soft, warm. Like his used to be. Too much like his. "You've been in that bed for two weeks straight." His voice was strained, betraying his mask of serenity. "It's time to get up, Alexander."
Alex heaved a sigh and shoved Aaron with all he could muster--but it wasn't much. Aaron hardly budged. "I know you're upset..." he continued. "I know you don't think you can do it. But you can." He tried to run his fingers through Alexander's matted hair, perhaps to untangle the mess just a bit, but they only caught painfully. Alex whimpered weakly, pulling his friend's hand away from the dark mess.
Alex was tired of the pep talk. He wasn't getting up and that was final. Aaron would pick up on it eventually. He never needed Alex to talk. Not anymore.
"Alex..." Aaron sighed. "You haven't spoken a word since we got the letter."
Silence.
"This isn't what I ment by 'talk less."
He'll leave eventually.
"Alexander, you're scaring me. Say something. Anything."
No.
Alexander waited for the bed to move, for Aaron's weight to leave it and for him to be alone with his thoughts again.
And then the bed moved.
But Aaron hadn't left.
He had laid down next to Alexander, sliding under the blanket and wrapping and arm around him tightly.
His body was warm, he smelled like clean laundry. Alexander had been hot and sticky and he smelled like swear. Aaron's touch was soft, comforting. Such a change from the sharp, cutting rocks in Alex's mind...the dark, suffocating thoughts that plagued him. Aaron was stable, simple, careful. Alex was a lonely, rough mess.
The contrast between the past two weeks and this moment was like a fire after months of wandering a snowy forest.
Alexander found himself crying. Crying for what he had lost. Crying for how broken he had become. Crying for the sudden, unexpected comfort. Crying into his first friend's white t-shirt, holding onto him for dear life.
"I'm sorry," he croaked out, his voice terribly hoarse. His first words since John had died.
"Shh," Aaron soothed. "It's alright. Let it out."
Alex sobbed into him until he felt the weight on his chest lift, and the lump in his throat clear, and he was able to take in a few regular breaths and pull back from the embrace.
"Thank you..." he whispered.
Aaron smiled softly. "What kind of friend would I be if I wasn't here for you?"
"You're going to make me cry again," Alex joked, wiping at his eyes. "I know I'm difficult..."
Aaron nodded. "Yeah, most of the time. But it's alright. I'll still be here."
Alex pulled him into a hug again, once more feeling warm and safe.
Warm and safe.
Warm and safe.
Warm and safe.