Chapter 32

JUDE

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I woke up to a full-on assault of bright, fiery morning sunlight on my face. The light made my eyes burn before I squinted and realized I was looking through a window.

The view outside consisted of a large oak tree on the right and, from the vantage point of where I was sat, the grey textiles of two suburban houses and a whole lot more that disappeared from my vision.

The view was breathtaking. Except for one thing… It wasn’t the view I looked at every time I stared through my bedroom window.

It was vastly different. Alien.

But what was even weirder… was the room itself. A bookshelf was situated at the far corner of the room, brimming with well-organized books.

I don’t read books, I thought distantly.

My eyes strayed towards a study table near the bookshelf, filled with mindless doodles and sketches. Some dangled over the edge, almost falling over.

The walls of the room itself had been painted in white with purple highlights. On one wall, a poster of these famous Korean artists -BTS I think?- was plastered, filled with an abnormal amount of glitter.

And the smell… Rose and something so vibrant and fruity it almost sent me into sensory psychosis- if that’s even a thing.

An empty bed lay right after the window. It was covered in a thick purple duvet, which was rumpled and scraggled. Three large fluffy pillows lay against the headrest. The beddings were white, and I was willing to bet they smelled exactly like the room.

The most obvious thing about the bed, though, was that it looked recently occupied. The weirdest part about the bed… was that it had a teddy bear- a fuckin teddy bear- lying on its side. It’s beady eyes seemed to be staring right into my soul.

I’m definitely not in my room, I thought.

Then, something heavy shifted at my side and I realised someone was leaning on me. I turned my head in an attempt to see who it was and it took all my strength not to flinch.

Oliver was leaning against a door with his head on my shoulder, completely asleep.

Oliver. Oliver Branson. The one and only.

I could not fathom and never had I fathomed he would ever be caught sleeping on my shoulder.

And then… It came down crashing on me…

Last night’s events…

I clutched my chest as my heart began to race again.

Last night had been my breaking point… every emotion I had ever locked about my father, every pent-up rage, sadness, loneliness, and the full onslaught of grief had exploded…

And it was not how I’d imagined it to occur. A distant part of me had always thought I’d punch someone or something to death, brutalise an entire wall with my fists until my hands broke into a million pieces…

Last night was worse… much worse. It was the paralysing fear that shocked me the most. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I was utterly powerless. I’d felt trapped in my body and, at a certain point, I could almost hear my dad’s voice telling me how I would never see him now that his body was stolen by some grave robbers.

I couldn’t tell what was real and what was not real.

I’d almost gone down the drain mentally and permanently, and I would have, if not for…

I stared at the mop of dark brown hair on my shoulder. Oliver looked completely at peace on my shoulder. He looked like he hadn’t just saved my life yesterday. He looked like he hadn’t brought me from the brink of mental collapse.

I could vaguely hear him telling me his story concerning his mom. I don’t know whether he knew it but that had brought me back. Slowly but surely. Without knowing it, he’d captured exactly how I’d felt about my dad. And that was what brought me back. Not any amount of sorrys or condolences. Not a bunch of useless sympathy. It was that. That had brought me back.

And not just that… but his voice had been so soft and warm. I’d never heard it in that manner before. And it was entrancing.

His hand on my shoulder, his tender ministrations should have been revolting. I hated being touched like that by anyone who was not Rick or Mom. But yesterday, Oliver’s hand had felt like warm toasted marshmallows. It had felt like a cloud wrapping around me, shielding me from any worry.

It felt like heaven.

I should have loathed it. I should have been disgusted by it. But I liked it. I really did.

And it fuckin scared me…

My body shuddered, reminding me of last night’s spasms. My airways began to clog up.

No. Not again…

Desperately, I glanced at Oliver. I wanted to hear his voice again, wanted to grab his hand and feel him stroking mine but I didn’t want to disturb his sleep. His round face was puffed out, and his dainty nose was red. I could feel his hair on my exposed shoulders and skin.

He looked so much at peace that I couldn’t bear to wake him up. I had to face last night’s demons again on my own.

However, I found myself focusing on his words yesterday, on his hand on my shoulder. A contented sigh found its way out of me as I started breathing normally. My body went still, in the way that meditation or running in a track would make me feel.

I stared at Oliver again. I don’t know what witchcraft was being worked on me but he seems to be the only solution to my problem.

But strangely… I didn’t mind it.

Which was even worse.

After a few minutes, I took a deep breath and glanced at him again. His head was starting to droop on my shoulder and his neck was canted at a very uncomfortable position which made me cringe.

I glanced at his bed.

And then, almost without thinking, I carefully pushed him off me, making sure nothing woke him up, before supporting his head on the door. I stood, stretching my sore limbs and arms in a few exercises I learnt in practice at school, before turning back to Oliver.

His hair had fallen over a part of his face and his breath was trying to chase it away from his nose. I hadn’t noticed it at first but he was wearing this old, rumpled T-shirt with pajama shorts filled with purple hearts all over. And they were short. I couldn’t believe how much skin those shorts left exposed. My eyes skidded up his legs until I could almost see the inside of his inner thighs…

I looked away, my face beginning to burn before I steeled myself and carefully picked him into my arms. I tried to ignore how his exposed legs and thighs felt on my arms.

The movement caused him to slightly groan which forced me to suddenly freeze. Was he waking up?

I risked a downward glance and, to my surprise, he’d nuzzled his face into my chest. A small whimper escaped him. His hands made fists in an attempt to grab my tanktop before he relaxed.

I stood there, staring at him for a full minute before walking to his bed. I carefully laid him in before tucking him in. Unconsciously, his hand began reaching out for something.

“Mr Lumpkins…” he whimpered.

I stared in confusion. Mr Lumpkins…

Then, a bolt of realisation hit me. He was probably talking about that teddy bear I saw on his bed. It was sitting at the farthest side of the bed, right beside the window. I grabbed it, making sure not to touch Oliver’s legs and avoiding any sudden movements.

My eyes did a quick scan. It was a brown teddy bear about the size of a normal stuffed animal that had slightly lost its vibrancy from age. A maroon bowtie made of silk was wrapped around its neck.

I placed it in Oliver’s hand and he immediately clenched his hand around it before wrapping it in a suffocating hug -if you could even make a stuffed animal pass out. He sniffed it twice before letting his entire body relax in one fluid motion. A contented hum vibrated out of him.

I couldn’t make sense of it. Wasn’t he like 19? I was pretty sure adults didn’t cuddle with teddy bears. My brain wracked itself up in an attempt to find mocking words to throw at him… but I couldn’t find them.

I watched him snuggle deeper into his pillow before pulling the covers completely to his neck. His hair had fallen completely over his eyes. I reached over to brush them off and got greeted by the curve of his neck which elicited numerous butterflies in my gut.

I’d been so irritated with him before getting that particular mental breakdown because he was hiding something from me. Something that happened in that club. I don’t know why seeing his neck made me react so strongly but I suddenly stood.

And then, there was knock on the door.

“Oliver?” A woman’s voice echoed.

Oliver began to stir but I didn’t want him to wake up. The image of how peaceful he looked was still fresh in my mind.

I bounded to the door before opening it and I was met with a woman in her early thirties. Her face was almost identical to Oliver’s… except for the fact that her nose was slightly larger than his. Her blonde hair was tied in a bun and she was adorned in a matching velvet pajama shirt and pants. She smelled like citrus and lemon.

She stepped back, obviously surprised that I had answered the door. “Hello. Can I help you? I’m Oliver’s mom and I just wanted to check on him.”

“He’s fine. He’s asleep,” I gruffed out. I opened the door a bit to let her see him through the space.

Her expression slightly relaxed. Then her eyes studied me from head to toe. It wasn’t seductive. It was more of a ‘who is this that my son brought into my house and is he safe?‘ kind of look. The kind of look you’d give a stray dog that wandered into your house.

“I believe I know all my son’s friends- and he doesn’t have a lot, mind you- but I’ve never seen you before,” she wondered. “What’s your name?”

“Judah,” I cleared my throat. “Judah Adams.”

She seemed to shrink back slightly from my voice before composing herself. Like most people when they hear me talk for the first time. At first, I was really thrilled by people’s reactions to my voice when I went through puberty before I quickly got tired of them.

Comments like ‘Your voice makes you look older than you are’ and ‘You sound like my husband but deeper’ were annoying as I grew up.

Was my voice really that intimidating?

The name Adams, however, had sparked a blaze of recognition in her eyes that held swirling pools of chlorophyll. They looked so much like Oliver’s that I had to remind myself to breathe. “Oh. Oliver told me you are Rick’s brother. You do look alike.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I returned her greeting and shook her hand. Her nose suddenly wrinkled, and I remembered I must have been smelling like liquor.

“Can I take a shower in your house?” I suggested.

Her eyes shone with approval, and appraisal as if she had been waiting for me to say that. “We have three bathrooms. One is downstairs, one in my room and one in Oliver’s-” she glanced at Oliver’s bathroom through the space in the door. “You can use his.”

I suddenly realised how inappropriate it would be to use his or her bathroom so I said, “The downstairs one is fine.”

Oliver’s mom started to nod before she suddenly remembered something. “The downstairs bathroom has a shower malfunction. I’d been meaning to get it fixed but no one uses it so I keep on forgetting.”

“It’s okay. I’ll shower at my place.”

“No, I insist.” She gave me a small dazzling smile. “What kind of parent would I be if I weren’t a good host to my son’s friends?”

We’re not friends, I almost said before I caught myself. A knowing look crossed her face, like she was expecting a particular reaction from the word ‘friend’. It briefly unsettled me before I shook it off.

“I’ll shower in this bathroom. No worries.”

She clapped her hands. “Great. I’ll bring you some spare towels, soap and extra clothes. If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

I nodded. She eyed me one last time, casting an interested glance before disappearing, leaving me staring after her and mulling over that entire interaction.

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Soooo….it’s that time of the year again. The time we make a crazy ass amount of resolutions and fail to follow through on most of them (＾∀＾)

Jkjk. Happy new years everyone❤️