Moments Make Memories

They had been sixteen, neither of them knowing where they were going, and neither of them expected to last long enough to figure it out. At that point they’d been friends for just shy of a year, though they both agreed it felt like a lifetime.

There’s an instant connection that you feel when you recognize a piece of yourself in someone else. In this case, the reflection of pain each saw in the other made them inseparable. They struggled in different ways, of course, Apollo’s longing of affection from his father and the abuse he doled out instead, Dex’s sense of loneliness in the world caused by the way he distanced himself from everybody. Everybody but Apollo.

He went over to Dex’s house that afternoon, his newly-appointed safe haven, after his father had driven him out of the house. He’d barreled into Apollo’s room, agitated about something that had nothing to do with him, but was entirely his fault. He had him gripped by the back of the neck before he could get a word out. One moment, he was reading for a school assignment and the next, his father had slammed his head into the bedpost. Apollo was okay, mostly worried whether he’d be able to get the blood of his copy of Catcher in the Rye before school the next day. After his ribs had been sufficiently kicked in and his bottom lip was swollen, his father strode out of his room and slammed the front door shut.

Apollo tried not to blame him, life was hard and everybody needed an outlet. There were even moments where Apollo swore that his father loved him, no matter how defective his son turned out to be. Pain was temporary if he could just make it safely to the other side.

He wiped the blood left around his room and on the hallway floor, he didn’t want Daria to see anything, especially the bruises on his face and neck. So he slid a note under her door telling her that he’d be back soon and started the walk to Dex’s house.

Fifteen minutes later, the dried blood had painfully stitched together the cuts on his face and Apollo was standing outside Dex’s apartment door. The lock clicked and the door swung open, a momentary look of shock before resignation took over Dex’s face. It wasn’t nearly the first time he’d shown up like this, and over the next few years it most certainly wasn’t the last.

Without a word, he grabbed Apollo’s shoulder and gently guided him towards the couch. The faint familiar scent of hard liquor and sweat hit his nose.

“Your dad’s home?”

“Yeah, got in a few hours ago,” he answered absent-mindedly, trained eyes scanning his face assessing the damage. Dex was unaware that his fingers had been tracing gentle circles along the back of Apollo’s neck, he let out a soft exhale.

“Alright, you should be okay with a few bandaids, but you emptied us out last time.” There was a teasing smirk on his face.

“I’m sorr-”

“No, don’t be,” he said, suddenly somber. “I’ll head to the pharmacy and grab some more. I’ll be back in ten.” He grabbed his jacket off the coat rack and threw a small wave before he disappeared behind the door.

Apollo hadn’t realized how cold it was on the walk here or when he’d even grabbed his jacket. The shaking must have been from the shock then. He got up to rinse his shirt in the bathroom, Dex always offered one of his, but Apollo felt like he’d taken more than enough. His eyes drifted to the kitchen, where Mr. Renner was hunched over the island counter, unconscious next to a mug of coffee gone cold.

He was a drunk, that much Apollo knew, but he cared about his son as much as any father should. He just happened to deal with his problems differently than some. Most days, Dex was left alone, awoken in the middle of the night or interrupted mid-afternoon to help his dad stumble into bed. It seemed he was always burdened with taking care of others.

Apollo moved the mug away from his face and turned Mr. Renner’s head to the side before continuing to the bathroom. The light flickered on and the sound of the fan blared between his ears. He looked like hell. Not just the bloody lip, black eye, and the handprint on his neck, him. The bright light made his skin look stretched and pale, while it was naturally bright and tanned. His eyes looked sunken and lifeless, empty. They always said that eyes were the window to the soul.

Apollo shifted his weight against the countertop and felt something press against his leg. He dug around in his pocket, fingers closing around something hard. Another thing he didn’t remember grabbing.

He stared at the pill bottle in his hand as if it would suddenly speak and tell him to snap out of it. Apollo doesn’t know how long he stood there for, rereading the letters of his mother’s name, tracing the numbers on the pills with his eyes. But he knew what was running through his head.

Sat with his back against the counter, there was a mug of cold coffee in one hand and a handful of pills in the other.

He’d never been good at swallowing pills so when he sent them down his throat, all six went

one

by

one.

Apollo’s last thought before everything faded to black was that he was a very terrible friend.

-

There was the sound of a stampede and pin pricks all along his skin. His clothes were stuck to his body and his first instinct was to panic, but he saw glimpses of the most perfect shade of brown tinged with green, felt soft feathers against his forehead, and calmed down. He could’ve sworn there was even something gently stroking his face. Until that something slapped him back into consciousness.

Dex.

Apollo’s eyes snapped open as all the air tried to vacate his lungs at once. His vision darted around to take in his surroundings. He was slumped against the shower wall, ice cold water pounding around them. Dex’s eyes were frenzied and his light brown hair looked darker matted around his shaking face. A drop of water trembled as it fell down the bridge of his nose.

Apollo took gasping breaths as he came to. His face stung, wounds probably reopened by Dex, whose jacket was flung on the floor next to a pharmacy bag. When his eyes met Dex’s there was a burning anger that the water couldn’t calm. Apollo reached behind him and turned off the shower, disoriented by the sudden quiet between them, one silent one ashamed, until Dex broke the silence.

“You. Asshole. Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again.” He shoved Apollo’s shoulder back into the wall and walked right out of the bathroom. He came back a minute later, hair still dripping, wearing dry clothes and holding more for Apollo. The glistening in Dex’s eyes made his stomach twist. He threw the change of clothes at Apollo’s chest, bent to pick up the band aids he’d bought, and headed for the door.

“Get up, get changed, and let me fix your face.” As he stormed down the hallway, Apollo knew one thing for sure. He’d end up loving someone who would never love him back.