Burn Before Reading(78)

"Don't do that."

"Why?"

"Mom did that."

I went silent. Godzilla threw a skyscraper at Mothra.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't know."

"Nobody knows," He groaned. "That's why it’s fine."

I inspected the empty red plastic cup in his cupholder. It smelled like rum.

"How much did you drink?" I asked.

"Don't do that, either."

"What?"

"Care," He slumped further in his seat. "It's unsightly."

"Well I'm going to keep being unsightly," I put my hands under his armpits and propped him back up in the chair. "Until you tell me how much you had to drink."

"Some."

I stared at him meaningfully. He snorted.

"Fine. A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"Six shots, two cups of Martin's special punch."

"Yeah, okay, my ‘second-party-ever’ experience tells me that's a lot. Let's get you somewhere cool and quiet."

"This is cool. What could possibly be cooler than Godzilla punching the shit out of a giant moth?"

"Come on," I stood. "Or I'm going to get Burn to carry you."

Fitz glowered and stood up, wobbly. "You don't have to threaten me."

"I do," I said lightly, lacing my arm under him and letting him lean on me for support. "Because otherwise you wouldn't do anything."

"Hey," He paused. "I said that to you."

"Yup. Our third tutoring session."

"How do you remember all this stuff?" He asked as we struggled up the theater stairs together.

"I don't," I panted. "Most of what people say, I forget. I only remember the good stuff."

"I wish I could do that," He said, softer than I liked.

"Hey! Stay with me. We're almost there to the bed, and then I'll get you some water."

He didn't say anything. I limped to the nearest bedroom I could see. It already had a couple making out on it, who looked alarmed when I came in.

"Go! Shoo! This is Fitz Blackthorn I'm carrying," I hissed at them, knowing nothing else short of the Blackthorn name would get two horny teenagers to move from their chosen love nest. Sure enough, all hesitance on their faces evaporated when they heard his name, and they inched out of the room. I laid Fitz on the bed and closed the door behind me. There was a small bathroom, and a glass for toothbrushes, but it was empty. I filled it with water and sat him up against the backboard.

"Come on, drink."

"No." He pursed his lips.

"Don't make me bring Burn down here."

"I don't care. I don't wanna drink."

"Fine. Then I'll go get Wolf."

This made him grimace harder, and he finally opened his lips and took a sip. He coughed, and when I was satisfied he’d drank enough, I put the glass down. We were quiet, Fitz sulking and me watching the water in the glass.

“I don’t get it,” Fitz suddenly said.

“Get what?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve got it way worse than me. You work hard, you actually study. You’re poor – don’t give me that look, I’m just being a realist. You’ve got a sick Dad and it puts a lot of stress on your family, I bet. So why don’t you – ugh.”

“Use your words,” I teased him.

“What do you even do for fun?” His green eyes were confused. “What do you do to let off steam? You didn’t party until, like, a week ago, and even then you didn’t drink or dance or – or – anything! How do you deal with it? All the shit in your head?”

“Is that why you do drugs?”

He nodded. “The world is like a ball of needles and I’m the fucking pincushion, and it’s the only way I can stop the pain. Or, it’s the only way that works. Trust me, I’ve tried everything else – booze just makes it worse. Girls just make it worse.”

“But you do those, anyway.”

“It’s just convenience – they’re there, I’m there, we’re both there drunk. Might as well. It’s just stupid flings with nothing meaningful behind it. Which is why I guess I’m – I’m so gung-ho about you and Wolf.” He exhaled. “If you two got together it would be like…maybe the world wasn’t so shitty after all.”

He sat up, crossing his legs and turning his full attention to me.

“But you still haven’t answered my question. How do you deal with it? Are you a robot?”

I laughed. “I wish. Then things would be a lot better. And math would probably be a lot easier. The only downside is I’d never able to swim again.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” His eyes were serious. I threw up my hands.

“Fine. You caught me. I never dealt with it. I’d bury myself in psych textbooks and homework and those would sort of, numb me I guess? It’s easy to busy your mind with stuff so much that it forgets to feel, you know?”

He shook his head, curly hair flying. “No. I don’t know. I feel everything all the time forever. In excruciating detail.”