DETONATE

DETONATE
Emerson’s Pov

“I was thinking we could just order some Chinese food.”

I walk out of the bathroom, rubbing my hair with the towel to dry it. His towel; mine is around my waist. I wonder if Adam will fuck me while we wait for the food and I open my mouth to suggest it when I notice that something is fucking off.

Adam hasn't answered my first question, hadn't even turned. His bare back is to me, shoulders stiff, and I can see him grasping something in his hand like he wants to squeeze it out of existence.

“You’re a hypocrite.”

I blink. The words are quiet and they almost bounce off me as I float into the room. For a long moment, I don’t understand what he's talking about. “What?”

He turns, holding something up. My stomach drops like it was tossed into a well. Fuck me, he knows. It's the small drug package, the one I slid into my pocket and completely forgot about in the light of everything that happened.

I take a breath but my throat is tight. I gently clear my throat, eyes holding his. “What did you think was keeping us fed?” I whisper, tossing his towel over my shoulders. “I have student loans, and I have no—”

I can't look at him anymore. Adam's eyes are dark with something between fury and fucking disappointment, the betrayal obvious in his voice as he cuts in, “So this is what you’ve been sneaking out to do.”

Did he find my phone? He knows the password. Maybe he saw the texts I sent to everyone I thought might help Al. 

Although, it shouldn't have tipped him off, I’d been careful not to explicitly implicate myself so I wouldn't have misplaced animosity pointed towards me. But I guess in addition to the bit of cocaine still in his fucking hands, he figured it out.

I mean I care about Al. But that doesn't mean I'll place out my neck on the line, hence the cryptic texts. “Adam listen, I had to—”

He scoffs, sharp and mocking, throwing his hands in the air. “Oh, so you do understand that sometimes we have to do some certain things.”

It's not. . . the same. . . “I just don't want you dead!” I shout before I can stop myself. The sound bounces all around us, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moves.

Then he laughs, a sound with no humor in it. “Thats not the the real reason! You know what I think? I think you’re selfish.”

“Selfish?” The word almost chokes me as it comes up. “Selfish? You’re calling me selfish?”

“Yes,” he says, voice breaking. “That’s why. You want to keep me here, small and with you.”

“No,” I say, incredulous. “That's not it at all. I just think drugs are a slippery slope. Especially now, with the team, and with the scouts watching.”

He glares at me, chest heaving. His pulse beats visibly at his temple. I'm not out to get him, I'm just afraid. And this fear is born from knowing what loss tastes like.

“I truly believe,” I say, forcing my voice to steady, as I take a few steps closer, “that once you start thinking you need drugs to be better or to do better, you can’t come back from that. You'll always want to push yourself with them, farther and farther, until you fucking overdose.”

“You don't know that!” he yells.

“Yes, I do!” I scream back, and suddenly there are tears burning behind my eyes.

The silence that follows is brutal. We're both panting and the blood is loud in my ears. Outside the dorm room, I can hear a few voices, a fucking reminder that the world keeps moving, no matter how yours seems to be collapsing.

“This is fucking stupid,” Adam mutters, rubbing his face. “You had no right to get in my business like that knowing what you do.”

“I just care about you,” I say, and it comes out smaller than I mean it to.

“Enough to want to stunt me.”

“That’s not it.” I scramble for words, for something that will make him see. There's nothing else but the crisp, clean truth and even though it's hard, I force them out. “I had a friend, Kiernan. He was exactly like you. He was so sure that the drugs were helping him. That they made him faster, sharper, feel unstoppable—”

“I don’t care,” Adam snaps.

“He’s dead!” I shout over him. “He OD’d, needle in his arm.”

Adam pauses, and I see his face soften as I bury my face in my shaky hands. “He was twenty one. He’d told me it wasn’t an addiction, that he had the discipline. He said he could stop whenever. He didn’t stop.”

For a moment, all I can hear is our breathing, as we stare at each other.

Then Adam exhales, long and shaky as he turns away from me. “I guess we can't agree on this.”

“Agree on the path of frequent drug usage? Do you know what that shit dues to your body? Your liver, your bones—,”

“I called my dad,” he says finally. His tone is distant now, hollow. “He’s offered me a deal. Said he’d take care of everything and I'd pay back with six years.”

Six years of servitude? What the fuckm That's crazy. “Adam that's not— ”

“My last modeling gig went well,” he continues, ignoring me. “I’m already booked for another one. So, I’ll be fine for a while.”

“Now,” he says, turning away, “I have to go practice.” He pauses at the door, one hand gripping the frame. Now he’s the one who doesn’t meet my eyes. “Thank you for everything, Emerson. Truly. If you’re ever in a bad place, I’ll always help you out.”

I stare at him, feeling all the warmth he evoked in me slip through my fingers. “Adam, please. Don’t do this.”

“But right now,” he says, voice quiet but firm, “I have to go. Because I’m going to do things you don’t want me to, and I don’t want to hear it. I’m getting my dream, no matter what it takes.”

“Adam, this is stupid—”

He pulls his shirt over his head, and starts rooting around his bedside table for something.

“I just wish you’d see!” I yell. “You don’t have to destroy yourself to win.”

He doesn’t answer, I can see he's not determined to. He slides his hands out of  the wardrobe so I won't see it maybe?

Then he leaves, turns around and just walks out the door.

The silence that follows swells until it feels unbearable. I sink into the bed, his bed; where we were just cuddled up. I just want him safe. I can't handle another death.

I press my palms against my eyes, forcing the tears away. And now it seems like he's gone back to the drugs.

I don't think I want Chinese food anymore.