Straight Boys - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Zachary's POV
Andrew was pissed out of his mind. He couldn't think straight, nor stand properly, and he kept mumbling about some girl named Olivia he needed to save from this cruel world, whatever that meant. He was uncordinated, when he was generally pretty balanced. He was in bad shape, the worst I've ever seen him - not counting to earlier that day when I didn't exactly look at him, but felt him.
"Yur really worm, you know that?" Huh? I think he meant warm.
"Uh, thanks, Parsley, I guess." My arms were getting tired from carrying his dead weight, and him poking my cheek was not helping. Good thing his trademark car was only a few yards away, the minivan unmissable surrounded among new modeled cars.
As we neared his car, I pushed his body away from mine to rest him against the side of the drivers door. "Where are your keys?" He shrugged, a lazy smile playing at his lips. "They got lost on the Happy Train a few hours ago." What the Hell even...?
"Just give me your keys, Andrew." The chump just shrugged again. Growling, I gritted out a 'fine' and just searched for them myself. With annoyed movements, I patted Andrew down, not caring how awkward it was for only a second. Through his fitted black shirt, my hands found nothing resembling keys, so I carried out my journey further south. Andrew was tense the whole time, not expecting me to actually force myself onto him - not sexually, of course. That would be weird.
"Yur not gonna find my keys feeling my smexy abs up, Rogers." The arrogant prick mused, his body wobbling slightly as I hit him lightly against the stomach to shut the Hell up. As I got to his jeans, the first pocket I checked held something of importance, so I stuck my hands in. It was his keys. Sighing in relief, I unlocked Andrew's car and threw him in the back seat. He didn't complain one bit, even as I got into the driver's seat and started to drive towards his house.
If you were wondering why I was driving while I was at the first party of the year, stop. I didn't drink anything, too interested in watching everyone else slowly get more crazy with every drink they had. If you've ever done that, then you would know how amusing it was, watching people do stupid shit while intoxicated.
"Are we there yet, Daddy?" Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to bury the laugh that was bubbling with in. Daddy, seriously? I think he was too far gone to notice what he was saying, probably stuck in kiddy world being a kid again. That's where he got the words, I assumed.
Upon arrival to the drunken puppy's humble abode, I turned the car off and went to get the mess out of the backseat. He was still laying where I had left him, hands up in the air waving around like he was trying to catch a bubble. Rolling my eyes, I bent over him and grabbed him by the shoulders. As I did this, my legs leaned against his, and part of my lower body touched his. It was the closest I had willingly been to him in my entire life, and to say it felt strange would be an understatement; and to say it was a good strange would be my death wish.
"Alright, little puppy, let's get you to bed." Andrew could sort of walk by now, so I didn't have to carry so much of him to his doorstep. However, as I tried to untangle myself from his hold, he only held onto me tighter.
"We're here, Andrew! You're home, see? You can make it from here, right?" I wanted to leave. It was getting close to two in the morning, but the crazy boy wouldn't let me. We were at his door, I had unlocked it for him with the spare key in his mailbox on the side of the house, but he wouldn't go in. We would let go of me, either, his hold choking the life out of me.
"You're so warm, though!" He moaned out as an answer to my silent question, but not my said one. I was starting to get fed up. "I could just sleep on you." Alright, that was enough. Huffing out in annoyance, I dragged him through the threshold of his house and up the stairs to where I was pretty sure his room was located. He followed without really complaining, my 'heat' apparently keeping him compliant and silent. I was grateful.
When up the stairs, I scanned the different doors of the hallway, my eyes landing on the second one on the right. It was bare of anything except a lone sign that said 'KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER' set in the middle. It was obviously his because of how boring he was when sober. Plus, the only other doors were either naked of any stickers, or practically bathed in pink butterflies and an array of flowers.
Pulling him into his room, I walked up to his bed and forced him to lay down. At first he didn't want to, but I made him with my obvious superpowers.
Okay, I picked him up and shoved him onto his blankets. What? He wouldn't let me go.
"You were so warm, though! If you were a heating blanket right now, I'd wrap myself in between you!" That made me start laughing. A heating blanket? He was still so out of it! I had never heard him talk like that before in my entire life of knowing him. He would never be caught dead saying things like that around me, that's for sure. He would ordinarily say things along the lines of, 'You cocky bastard, get the Hell away from me,' or something close to that, not a freaking pick up line!
"If that was your way of trying to flirt with me, Parsley, then you have successfully failed." Even if I was gay, I wouldn't tap that.
Andrew scoffed, one of his wrists flicking in a girlish manner. "Please, if I was gay, you'd certainly wouldn't be my first choice." So he was admitting that I would be a choice, though. I couldn't hold in my boisterous laughter at that, my head going back as I clutched stomach. This guy was hilarious when drunk.
"Stop laughing at me!" He whined. "I just wanted to use you as a blanket, that's all. You can't blame me, either. It's cold in my house now that my family lives in a hospital." He had to make it depressing? That comment gripped my laughter and threw it out the window. Sighing, I stared down at the sad boy, actually seeing him for the first time since I picked him up from the party. His dark hair was messy and unkempt, strands standing in all different directions. His once lively eyes were a soulless and dull blue, the white rimmed with red from being drunk or crying, I couldn't choose. My eyes ran over his cheeks, once flushed from always being angry, now ashen and almost hollow.
It had only been a day since he found out his mother and sister were in an accident, yet he looked like he aged ten years. He looked like he found out about their death and couldn't get over it. I had never met someone who could loose all sense of happiness so quickly, not even my dad when my mom lost her battle to pancreatic cancer.
I didn't want to, but I couldn't help but pity Andrew. He was someone I knew to be tough, if being captain hadn't already told that to everyone. He was tough, if he could handle me everyday since we both hit puberty. But now, now he was broken. He was a broken boy, and believe me, it takes one to know one. Except I've had years to get over loss; I've had years to adjust to the gaping hole in my heart. He's just been shot, the wound fresh and raw. Depression was just getting started on him, and it was sad, to say the least.
"Stop looking at me like that." I was brought back to reality by Andrew poking my stomach.
"Like what?" I feigned confusion, tilting my head just the slightest to make it more believable.
"Like you're feeling sorry for me, pitying me. I fucking hate it, so stop." I looked away, crossing my arms. I had been in his same position many years ago, aggravated at all the sorry eyes looking at me like I was some fragile little kid. I learned to accept them sooner rather than later, though, and took what they gave me with open arms. It was better to accept the sympathy rather than yell at it all the time.
"Whatever, Parsley. I'm leaving anyway, so here are your keys. See you at school Monday," and I set his rusting car keys on his side table, taking one last look at his curled up form on his bed. He had turned his back to me as I said my goodbyes, most likely fed up with talking to me about his feelings. Shaking my head slightly, I left his room, closing the door with a soft click.
As I took each step down one by one, thoughts started to flood my brain. Andrew was so wasted, he'd probably feel like exploding in the morning, not to mention sick to his stomach for the next few hours. And he would most likely not eat for the whole day because of it.
These thoughts in my brain were causing me to slow to a hesitant stop. Why was I thinking these thoughts? Why was I caring so much?
Maybe because you found someone just like you to relate to.
I really needed to get home. Tomorrow was my only day to be free to do absolutely nothing, or I guess today because is was one in the freaking morning, but I couldn't leave Andrew like that. Groaning, I decided to stay. I was sure his dad wouldn't mind, because honestly, who did Parsley bring home except his smelly socks in his gym bag? So his father would be pleased he made a new friend if he woke up to find me in his house, if he was even home that is.
I trotted back up the stairs and back down the hall I came from in search of a bathroom. When I eventually found one, I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the first pain medication I saw: Ibuprofen. Taking out two pills, I went back to Andrew's room to silently set the meds next to his keys and a half empty water bottle conveniently set there as well. He was gone when I got back, his chest from what I could see in the dark slowly moving up and down.
Just as I was leaving his room for a second time that night, I paused. I hadn't really noticed it before, but his room was neater than neat. Everything was placed orderly and in a specific place. There were few posters on the walls, mainly of bands from the eighties, but none a regular teenage boy should have. The floor was clean of any clothes, unlike my room, and, as I swept my eyes up, his ceiling was covered in plastic glow in the dark stars. I could not for the life of me contain the smirk and quiet snicker in my throat for long. It was just too amusing. An eighteen year old with glow in the dark stars on his ceiling! That was classic. I bet the chicks digged it. And not only was his ceiling painted with arrificial light, but his desk adjacent to his bed supported a model of our solar system. So he was into space? Cute.
Downstairs, I had made myself at home. I was officially going to spend the night at Andrew Parsley's home - only to rehabilitate him back to health when he woke up in the morning. After that, I was going to leave, and go back to how I normally treated the loser, only so it wouldn't be any more awkward than it was going to be in the late morning.
Grabbing a few blankets from a closet I found in the living room, I used a throw pillow as a makeshift pillow for my head to rest and made my bed. Stripping of my shirt, which grossly stunk of alcohol and cigarettes, and jeans, I laid down on my bed for the night. The couch wasn't too bad, only slightly too small for my six foot stature, but comfortable enough to knock me out in less than five minutes. I would need my sleep, to be honest. Morning was surely going to be fun.
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Hell again!
Another chapter for you guys that I hope you liked. :)
Zachary sure does make some weird decisions around Andrew now. Doesn't he?
I would never really spend the night at a strangers house, but hey, they aren't strangers. ;)
Please and thank you to whoever LIKES and COMMENTS on my story! I love it when you guys do that!
And again, how was this chapter? Weirder than the last, yes, but I thought it was cute!
Also, on another note, I would like some of you to share my story to your friends? Hell show it to your school! Idc, only that you guys help me get views to keep this baby rolling! It would make me the happiest writer in the world, but I'm sorry if I'm asking too much. I just want more people to discover this wonderful world of friendship, hardship and love! I would really appreciate it.
Have a wonderful rest of your day!