Chapter 11

My heart skippeda beat when Kenji answered my call. Anticipation bubbled within me, and I grinned. Only, as soon as I answered and heard Kenji's voice, the warmth drained from my veins, replaced by a cold, gnawing fear.

"Shaun… Can you… I think… Will you come to student parking, please? I don"t feel right… I need you."

Without a second thought, I rushed out of the door into the cold, my mind spinning with worry and uncertainty. I hadn't stopped to explain why I was leaving, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach, twisting, and tightening with each syllable he'd managed to force out. I knew something was wrong, terribly wrong. When I reached the parking lot, I scanned the rows of cars frantically, searching for any sign of Kenji. And then, there he was, a solitary figure huddled on the ground, leaning against the tire of his Jetta, slumped with his head bowed, his bag clutched to his chest. I sprinted the short distance, a surge of relief washing over me at the sight of him. But when I drew closer, my steps thundering on the sidewalk, he lifted his head, and when I skidded to a stop, his eyes were clouded with pain, and his usual vibrant energy was dimmed.

"Kenji?" I gasped, dropping to my knees beside him. "What"s wrong? What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

I would kill them, or at least knock anyone out who hurt him, and I even scanned the local area for assailants, but there was no one, just Kenji curled in on himself. I couldn't look away as he struggled to catch his breath, trembling with a panic attack.

"Shaun…" he managed, then hid his face in his hands.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice tinged with worry as I reached out to brush the hair from his forehead, feeling him shaking.

Was he cold? I slipped off my coat, attempted to tuck it around him, ignoring the icy pellets of rain bouncing off my back. Before I could utter another word, he stared up at me, his eyes red, his face blotchy, reaching blindly for my hand, and gripping it tight.

"I can"t control it, Shaun," he gasped, his words rushed and frantic. "It"s like… something else takes over, and I can"t stop myself." His words sent a shiver down my spine, a cold dread settling in the pit of my stomach. What had he done? Was it pills? Drugs? What was he doing? My mind raced with a whirlwind of questions and uncertainties, each one more terrifying than the last. The sight of Kenji huddled and trembling, his face pale and drawn with anguish, filled me with a sense of urgency unlike anything I had ever felt before. Was I overreacting?

"We need to get you out of the rain," I managed, attempting to keep my voice low. Did I need to call 911? Did he need medical help?

"I'm so sorry," he cried and scrubbed at his face so hard I thought he might hurt himself. I caught his hands to stop him. "I'm so ugly; I can't jump… I…" He stopped, and a fresh bout of sobs caught me unawares.

"Kenji? Did you take pills? Do I need to get paramedics?"

"No!" He yelled at me, then shoved at me. "No!" I tumbled back from my crouch down on my ass, and then, he launched himself at me. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I caught him, and pulled him onto my lap, so small in my arms, burying his face in my shirt, which was wet from the melting sleet.

"Shaun?" Tyler asked from behind me, and I glanced up to see him and a couple of the other guys staring down. "What can we do?"

I shook my head. I didn't know.

"I'm going to get him home." I said, and Tyler nodded. I unpeeled the keys from Kenji's icy fingers. "He'll be okay. He has the flu," I lied.

Tyler nodded, although I knew he didn't believe me. "The flu, yeah. Do you want me to take him home?"

I scrambled to stand, thanking anyone who listened that I had good lower body strength as I carried Kenji up with me, Tyler holding my hand to steady me. Did I want to hand Kenji to Tyler, or Soren, or Felix, or any one of the team hanging around me?

"I've got this. I'll look after him."

Tyler made a motion for everyone else to leave, then leaned into me. "Has he eaten anything?" I pointed down at the wrappers on the ground, candy, and the ginormous bottle of soda.

Tyler paled. "He binged all that?" he murmured for me to hear. I shrugged. It could be anyone's trash, but when Tyler picked it all up, I knew it was Kenji's.

Tyler took the keys and unlocked the car. I managed to separate Kenji from his bag after a short tussle, then I helped Kenji into the passenger seat, and he didn't protest once, or say a word, he cried and gripped me and wouldn't let go.

"I need to drive you back home," I whispered, close to Kenji's ear.

He raised dark eyes swimming with tears. "Don't tell anyone. Please, don't tell them."

I pressed a kiss to the top of his head and squeezed his hand. "I won't say a thing."

He closed his eyes, sinking in his seat, and I hurried to the driver's side, taking back the keys, and bumping Tyler's fist.

"I've got this," I said to him.

Tyler glanced inside at Kenji. "I know. I can help if you need me. Call me, okay?"

I said I would, and when I was inside with the door shut, I turned on the engine and waited for it to warm. Kenji's place was about fifteen minutes from here, and I hoped it was enough time so I could get some heating inside the car to counteract the chill. I turned to check on him one last time, but as I reached out to touch his shoulder, he flinched, his gaze distant and troubled.

By the time we reached his place, a modest middle-class home, he was calmer, lucid, and as soon as the car stopped, he fumbled with the door to let himself out.

"Thank you," he said, shaking the handle, frustration seeping into his movements when he couldn't open the door, and I was around there in an instant, helping him out, grabbing his bag. "Thank you," he repeated. "I'm okay now." It didn't sound like Kenji. It sounded like a stranger giving me a polite brush-off, and if he thought for one minute I was leaving, he was wrong.

Kenji"s mom opened the door, her smile of welcome dropping when she saw me propping up Kenji.

"Kenji!" she exclaimed and reached for him, but he evaded her touch by burying himself in my hold.

"It's just food poisoning," he murmured.

"What did you eat? Was it that noodle place again?" Her voice was filled with fear and anger at whoever might have hurt Kenji, and she was talking and worrying like moms do as I helped Kenji inside. His weak explanation of food poisoning had pushed his mom into mama-bear mode, but she wasn't any bigger than him, and there was no way she'd get him upstairs to the room I recalled from when I used to visit.

"I'll get him upstairs, stay with him for a while," I said, and his mom shot me a glance.

"The kind of thing a boyfriend might do," Kenji's grandmother—his sobo—announced from the kitchen doorway. "Are you his boyfriend, little Shaun?"

Coming out and declaring a romantic relationship with Kenji without his consent was disrespectful, right? It wasn't fair to lump myself on him, and anyway, no one needed to know I was gay in a situation like this. Why add complications to an already stressful moment. I met his sobo's shrewd gaze.

"I'm his friend. A close friend. His best friend."

"You haven't been around much," Kenji's mom added, nearly tripping over Koro as the cat wound through her legs. She shut the front door behind us, when Kenji, me, and Kenji's grandmother were locked in this weird closeted gay standoff.

Sobo sniffed, muttered something under her breath. "Either way, you go up, his door stays open."

His mom bustled around, aiding us in removing our shoes with flustered movements, breaking the calm atmosphere I was trying to maintain. Kenji thanked me once more when we reached his room, again he was expecting me to leave, but I couldn"t bring myself to walk away, not when he needed someone by his side.

Not when I needed to hear the whole story.

"The worst of the sickness is over," I assured his mom, my voice steady. "I"ll stay with him for a while; maybe we can watch a movie or something."

I waited for Kenji to answer, but instead, he moved the short distance between me and his bed and sat on the side. I pulled up a chair beside him, determined to stay there until he was feeling better. Whatever had caused this despair—why he'd maybe eaten all that junk food and the soda—I was going to be there for him. I wouldn't even ask questions, but maybe, he'd trust me enough to tell me everything. His mom vanished, then came back with water and snacks.

"For you," she said as she placed a plate of crackers on the bedside cabinet. Then, she pressed the back of her hand to Kenji's forehead, tutted, fussed around him, and pressed a kiss to his hair, the same as I'd done in the car.

We both cared for him.

She loved him.

And I…

Well, I loved him, too. In my own way. As his friend. As someone who'd grown up knowing him, and seeing him, and sharing all kinds of secrets, caring, and worrying, and watching out for him as he watched out for me. He was the person who understood how I felt about the pressure my dad heaped on me, about how hard I worked to be good. I understood his drive to be the best.

And after all of our shared moments, we'd come back together as friends, and he'd answered the phone when I called. He was having a panic attack, but he'd wanted me to help.

"Is she gone?" he asked, his voice muffled because he'd buried his face in a pillow.

"Yeah."

He turned, groaning as he moved, small and unhappy, tears still collecting in his eyes. "I need my bag," he said, and I passed it to him, wiping at the damp parts. He took it from me, clumsy as he attempted to open it at speed, then yanking out the contents, picking up the scrapbook I'd made and opening each page in silence. The cover was wet, but the photos were okay inside, and he traced each one, using his quilt cover to dab at the damp parts.

"I could have… I didn't…" he tried to talk, but then, he stopped when none of the words were stringing together to make any sense.

"What happened?" I asked, and his eyes widened as he clutched the scrapbook to his chest. Tears spilled down his face, and I moved from the chair to sit on the side of his bed, touching his hand. "Kenji?"

"I can't," he whispered brokenly. "Don't make me say anything about it to you."

I got the sense that he didn't want to talk to me, but maybe someone else? "Would you like to talk to Tyler? Or?—"

"No!"

We sat in silence for a while, and I hadn't moved my hand from his arm. He was exhausted, his eyelids dipping every so often, and he leaned toward me. For a while, we sat like that, until I eased him away, swung my legs up onto the bed and settled back on the pillows, pulling him to me, unpeeling his fingers from the scrapbook, then reaching for the control and flicking on Netflix. I found an old anime we used to love and set it going. He didn't move from my hold, and all too soon, his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep in my arms.

I sent a message to Mom to tell her I'd be late home, another message to Tyler explaining that Kenji was okay, and it didn't surprise me when Kenji's sobo appeared at the open door. She considered me in her great and wise way, then smiled.

"Are you his boyfriend?" she repeated her earlier question.

I wished I had an answer. "I don't know if I can be," I whispered, as Kenji shifted in my arms and sighed in his sleep. I glanced down at him, hugged him closer, then eased away, tucking him into his quilt, aware she was watching me. I stopped next to her, and she reached up and patted my face.

"Are you his boyfriend?" she whispered.

I glanced at a sleeping Kenji, then took the seat next to the bed. The answer was important to her, and just as important to me. Then, I slumped a little as she smiled up at me. I really had only one answer.

I want to be.