fourteen

                                        

                                              
quoted books
The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa, pg. 174-175.
MARCH
SATURDAY CAME AND Hadley woke up with a faint headache, but without a real hangover, and was immediately plagued by desperate, aching thoughts of Spencer. He wondered if he had gone back to the party and how long he had stayed, if he had left with Elodie and Charlotte or if he had left alone with Elodie like he'd originally planned, if he slept at home or somewhere else— the image of him in bed beside her was nauseating— if he was even awake and, if he was, what he was doing. He thought about the weight of his gaze, the shape of his mouth, the lines of his throat, his tender hands and drove himself crazy.
In an effort to distract himself— without really wanting to shake himself free— he spent most of his day reading the books Spencer had let him borrow, sat around the kitchen table with his brother and talked about nothing for an hour, then returned to reading. It was only in the late afternoon that he decided to get dressed and drop in to visit a violently hungover Isaac who was trudging around the house in a pair of sweatpants and socks in a state of sickly fragility.
They cooked a late lunch together. Hadley washed and tidied away whatever Isaac was finished with and kept him on his feet, meandering around the kitchen, so he didn't fall asleep at the table. They slouched on the sofa together, and he finished his own lunch and the rest of Isaac's, who couldn't stomach the rest, and watched episodes of a TV show they'd already seen every episode of. Isaac took tiny sips from a glass of water, wincing every time he had to move, and complaining about how he needed a shower, but didn't want to get up. 
Instead, he told Hadley about the rest of the party. He narrated Jensen and Charlotte's endless bickering, Evan leaving with girl friends, Elodie clinging to Charlotte's side immediately after Spencer and Hadley left— and maybe Spencer had gone back because he didn't see who Charlotte and Elodie left with, but he certainly didn't see him anywhere. He told Hadley about how he got home in the early hours of the morning and threw up on the side of the road because he drank too much with Noel, Jensen and some other friends after most people left.
Hadley tried to bite his tongue about Spencer until Isaac asked him about it and all he could offer for a conclusion was I don't know, with a shrug, we're figuring things out, I guess. 
When it was starting to get dark outside and the shitty movie Isaac picked, that they had talked over the entirety of, finally ended, he said goodbye to Isaac's parents, who had been in and out of the living room all evening, and drove home.
On the way home, he picked Tristan up from a friend's place and they picked up a pizza to share, but he went to bed as early as he could because he was still faced with the fact that his phone hadn't once buzzed with Spencer's name.
And yeah, he could've reached out first but every time he tried it no longer felt like an option. He had the unshakeable feeling whenever he began to type or hovered over the name in his phone that Spencer wanted to be left alone, so he locked it without doing anything and hoped fervently that their Sunday plans were still on.
Then, on Sunday afternoon, when he was taking a break from math homework to read more of Pessoa's fragments, he received a text and he rushed downstairs to get the door, book in hand.
He was standing in the doorway, wearing a sweater that matched his eyes and his favourite jeans with his hands in the pockets of a black gillet. He was glancing around, touching his throat self-consciously when Hadley opened the door and, when he spoke, his voice was usually quiet, "Hello."
"Hey," he said brightly, looking out at the grey sky. 
Spencer glanced towards the book he was holding and seemed like he was trying to smile. "You're reading it. What do you think?"