I throw myself back into the car, I notice the keys are already in my right hand when I fumble with them for a second, leading them to the place where I can try my best to let them be the source to get the motor running- but I'm getting no reaction whatsoever from this thing, so I guess it seems to be to no good at all.
I sigh- feel like screaming for a second that will-most certainly, turn into a longer amount of time, perhaps even minutes until I actually can get quite a hold of myself to realize the things around me.
My left hand is clenched around the cell phone; I'm almost abusing the now black screen and the sides of it with my fingertips, making an attempt to get it lightened up again- but once again, that seems to be to no good at all, and I feel like I am back to square one again until finally- and I mean finally I hear the beautiful sound of a motor-a car that is soon starting to build up speed.
Actually, it sounds terrible, and the noise is way louder than it usually is, but I can make an acceptation for that this time because all I am hoping for is that this increasing volume or whatever it is doesn't mean that the vehicle will start laying off during the ride.
Well, it's not all I'm hoping for at a time like this- I'm not even sure it's the most important thing, but I shouldn't be thinking like this, because then maybe something would make it happen, and- and the point is I can't let it happen, because I really- sincerely, need this.. thing, this car, to go to my location. To the location I want to go to.
To him- to Piers. Because apparently he's in trouble and that's simply why I momentarily need to hope for something else than just not getting stuck outside, in the cold winter weather- because that itself wouldn't have been the point.
But now I'm doing what people would probably call alright since my car is driving in its fastest speed, and I just may get there pretty soon until I start questioning for a tiny second where I am actually headed to- where the location actually is set.
I regain the firm grip I once had around the mobile that now lay on the empty seat next to me, am just about to bring it closer to me, send him a message to know just where he is until I hear the steel hit the floor faster than my reactions are capable to react to.
I shake my head rather wildly; realize that apparently, it wasn't meant to happen, so I lay both my hands on the steering wheel again while making up a quick decision in my mind to head for home without having enough seconds to reconsider it an extra time- thinking of the things that this may cost me.
But it's not like I have any other choice now, is it?- Or maybe it's all just about me giving up too easily, because that is definitely what Piers would have told me if-
But he isn't actually here, so I inhale deeply, let my fingers nervously drum the steering wheel; realizing how little it takes for me to get unfocused.
Finally, I let all the air out of my lungs- making it sound like a sigh, when it feels like they are going to explode and my head are starting to ache.
It doesn't really matter that he isn't here, though- I am still going to follow the advice I'm –sure- he would give me, because I'm not giving up on this- and I'm glad I am physically reacting the same way as I put the pedal to the metal once again.
When I arrive at my apartment I start by jumping out of the car- that is to say when I have catched the cell phone that was lying on the floor in it, checking very quickly and briefly if I hadn't got any notifications- any messages or missed calls that I wouldn't want to miss before I run towards my goal.
At least what I think is my goal.
He could as well be anywhere.
I open the door, run up the stairs and by habit I search up my own apartment. I could have just carelessly broken the door in, screamt his name if I thought about his previous message and about how he could have be in need of my help right now. But then again, that wouldn't be of any help at all- so I didn't.
I kept calm, put the keys in, turned a few times until the door unlocked and then I could open it as carelessly I wanted to- I don't mind screaming his name, though, just in case.
It's awfully quiet in here, so somehow I am already starting to lose hope in him being here, but I pass the hall, and there are no traces of him yet, so I pass the kitchen and it's the same thing there, but when I later on go into the living room I can actuallysee him sit there on the couch- even though it is very dark in here.
My first impression is that I must have read those messages wrong- that they must have come from another person, probably have been sent to the wrong person too. But then again- that is very farfetched.
And he's still staring out of nowhere.
"Piers? You texted me?"
I stand beside him; watch him for a second, he doesn't seem to make a reaction at all, so I go a few meters to turn the lights on. When I turn to him again his face is even more turned to the left but other than that he doesn't carry much of an expression.
"I'm fine.", He mumbles.
I take that as a confirmation to my question but not to what he actually said, so I'm far from pleased with just this.
"Are you sure? You don't seem like it."
He holds his head down low, in that quite odd sideward position while he just nods, and I'm not really sure what he's referring to as he is doing so.
I sit down next to him, he freezes abruptly in whatever small motions he may have done before that and he never looks at anything else than that thing to his left side.
"Look at me."
He shakes his head.
"Come on."
"Go away, Chris."
Suddenly I snap, laying my hand beneath his jaw, turning his head towards me ignoring his tiny whimper and his struggle, and it's mostly because I don't have any plans on going anywhere before I get an explanation.
What I'm being met by is telling me everything that message was being sent for.
Bruises are covering his left eye, he has tiny scars on his cheek and suddenly I get a flashback on something I have seen before.
"Oh god- Piers, what is this?"
He doesn't say anything- doesn't need to say anything, it only looks as if he shrugs on one shoulder and that is enough to answer that question.
"Is it my fault? Was I too late?" ,I keep saying.
His eyes snap at that part, and he actually looks at me for a second. I don't think I need to have more of an answer than that.
"What are you talking about?"
"This could have been prevented if I was getting here faster."
"Nah."
He's avoiding me in his way of speaking, I can hear that he doesn't really have the energy to speak to me so after that we both turn quiet for a while- but only for a few seconds until I know there is more I need to ask.
"This time you need to tell me, though. Who did this to you?"
I glare at his direction- he pretends to play with his own hands, patience starts running off of me and I know he has heard my question but you can't even be sure of that the way he looks until he open his mouth and looks as if he's going to start talking, or say something at least.
"I did."
"Oh come on."
"What?"
He turn his face against me for a second to watch me through narrowed eyes then back down again, almost as if he had done something wrong. I never know what, though.
"You didn't do that to yourself, Piers."
"Well, that's my answer, Chris."
"Just stop this bullshit."
"Why?"
With a sigh I turn my gaze away from him to look at the floor beneath me and start doing the same things with my hands as he does.
"I want to hear the truth."
"I already told you I-"
"Yes you told me, and I don't believe you, so who the hell is it that you protect? Because you clearly didn't beat yourself up like this so just- stop."
I know I sound a bit harsh, but it all depends on the fact that I want to dig deeper in how all of this could happen.
"And how can you tell that? You weren't even- I-"
He starts talking weakly, but I disturb him in it by taking his face in my hands and turn it toward my direction to see right through him. He doesn't struggle as much this time, and I know it's because he doesn't have as much energy as he would need to do that either.
"Is it Troy? Because you know I can smash the guy's face in."
He reacts at that, breaks our tiny moment of eye contact, turns his face away and I feel like I am being pushed away mentally-well, physically too, actually, even though he isn't technically laying his hands on my chest to make a larger distance between us.
And suddenly, I feel like I have all the answers I need.
"No." ,He says, or more like whispers, and I can hear the obvious struggle in his voice.
"But why didn't you tell me?"
I bring myself just a few inches closer to him, I don't know if he notices since he is far from watching my direction, but I top that by laying a hand on his shoulder- so he can't miss it, and he instantly starts to shift.
"I said no!"
He raises himself from the couch with such speed that my eyes almost never have the time to catch the moment before he is standing up, and my hand feels like it has been hit by a block of ice when it actually was just a gust of wind.
I usually never think about my actions when they are happening this quickly, so I desperately search after his hand with my own to seek some time.
"You know, you don't have to do this- protect him like this. Nothing will happen, I'll make sure of it, okay?"
I know he is thinking of a way to get past me at first, but when I'm still holding his hand in a firm grip he understands that it won't be that easy- so he does the thing I usually do- he sighs, turns his head to me slightly and looks at me with eyes that express emotions I can't seem to read.
"You don't understand, Chris. This doesn't mean anything, so just leave it- alright?"
"But we can fix this-"
"Leave me alone."
And so I do something I didn't think I actually would do, but when I feel the struggling he is making with his right hand, I feel like that's what I have to do.
"Piers- baby.."
I make the last part unnoticeable for him to hear- actually, it's almost impossible for me to hear it either. And I am surprised I said it- I don't even know how it slipped out of me- but it did, and I guess whatever damaged it would have caused is just done now, without further complications.
Another damage that is made is he running out of the room- out of the outer door, faster than I would ever want him to- but then again, I would never imagine me to even want him to leave.
The only thing I really want is for things to get fixed- and I don't even know what I really mean by that.
But I guess it's this 'Troy'- thing, or whatever I should call it- because it was always about Troy, wasn't it?
And I'm not even sure what I mean by that, either.
~A/N: This is a bit delayed- and as usually, there may be a lot of errors- I wanted to update this earlier but I have been quite busy with, well, being sick.. Anyhow, thank you everyone once more for all your F/F and R/R- it's as appreciated as always!