Liam

Hey, could you please come meet me at the park? Please? I need

Shit. 

I need. That’s where the text ends. No follow up, no elaboration. I need to get to the park. Now. 

Oscar

be right there

After a second, I add a <3 and shoot it off. 

I practically jump out of my bed and tug on my Converse over my socks. I sprint down the stairs and am so, so close to being out the door and on my way to the park when my mom appears out of nowhere. 

“Oscar Reyes, where do you think you’re going at 11 o’clock on a school night?”

I know better than to try the “out” tack so many teens in so many movies use, so I tell her the truth. 

“Mom, I’m sorry, but my friend really needs me right now and I have to go to him.” She must see the desperation in my eyes, or maybe there is a god and they are smiling at me right now, because after a second of stern mom-gaze, she gives a small nod. 

I’m out of the door before she can remind me to grab a jacket. 

When I get to the park, it takes me less than a minute to spot him. Even in the dim lighting of the park lamps, I’d know that fiery hair anywhere. 

I walk up to the bench where he’s sitting with his head in his hands.

“Hey,” I say, soft and low so as not to startle him. When he looks up, there are tears running down his face, and his eyes are puffy and red. “Oh, Liam, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, just sniffs and holds out his arms. I take this as an invitation to sit down next to him and curl into his form, which I guess was the right call, because he melts into me. His strong arms wrap around me, and I’m surprised he doesn’t crack a rib. As he pulls me impossibly closer, I rest my head on his shoulder and let our warmth meld together. 

After five or so minutes like this, his tears seem to at least have slowed, so I take the chance to shift so that I’m looking into his eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He looks up at me, and I’ve never seen someone so broken before. A fire starts in the pit of my stomach, and I want to stab whoever made him look like this. Whoever made him feel like this. 

“…Not really.” Liam’s voice is hoarse, most likely from crying, but for some reason, it sounds like he’s been yelling, too. 

“Okay, love.” And I don’t know what makes me say it, but it feels right. What I do know is that we can’t keep sitting on this cold-ass park bench. “Can I walk you home?”

He shakes his head so violently, you would’ve thought he had something stuck in there. 

“Alright, do you want to come home with me, then?” His nod is the first positive reaction I’ve had from him so far, unless you count the invitation to sit down. 

I help him up, and we walk home together, hand in hand because he doesn’t seem to want to release contact with me. 

When we get to my house, my mom is waiting for me on the couch. She stands up when she hears the door open, and when she sees Liam, she thankfully doesn’t ask any questions, just gets him some water and ushers us upstairs. 

Once he’s seated on my bed, and has had some water, I ask what is probably the hardest question I’ve ever asked him. 

“Are you okay?”

Immediately, the tears reappear. He shakes his head, and looks up at me. 

“My Nana…” and then his voice cracks and he’s sobbing. I sit down next to him, not sure how to comfort him, but I let him wrap me up again. 

After an hour or so, we’re fully in the bed together, under the covers snuggling and everything, but I don’t have time to think about it because Liam is still awake, sniffing and hicupping despite my best efforts. 

Eventually, we both fall asleep, lost in the steady rhythm of each other’s breathing. 

I think it’s the most at peace I’ve ever felt.