Find You in the Dark

whacked out behavior. I knew he was drunk but that didn't excuse the way he was acting.
    Maybe I was being supremely stupid, but I turned off the car and followed him into the house. Clay had left the front door wide open, a pair of shoes kicked off just inside the entry way. The house was dark and smelled faintly of Patchouli.
    I suddenly heard a crash coming from the second floor. I could see the stairs in front of me, so I slowly made my way up them. I could hear yelling and banging coming from the end of the hallway. What was Clay doing? And did I really want to follow him when it sounded like he was having a one man boxing match in there?
    But I couldn't leave things the way they were. I didn't understand why he was angry with me. Why he decided to drink, even after telling me that was a big no no for him. He was a different person tonight and if I was honest with myself, he scared me.
    Yet I stupidly ignored the instinct that told me to get the hell out of there, and turned the knob on what I assumed was his bedroom door. My mouth fell to my feet as I watched him trash the place. He had pulled over his dresser and clothes lay strewn all over the floor. He had pulled pictures off the wall. And there was a hole the size of a fist in the dry wall. Okay, he was 100% freaking out.
    I almost closed the door and left, only wanting to forget about this and the volatile boy who was currently destroying all of his possessions. That would have been the safe and sane thing to do. But if there was anything I had learned since meeting Clayton Reed, was that I didn't feel necessarily sane feelings for him. These insane feelings made me experience things and act in ways that were completely out of character for me. So instead of bolting for the front door, I took a step inside and gently closed the door behind me.
    The soft click seemed to break through the destruct-o-thon in progress, and Clay looked up. He seemed surprised to see me. A myriad of emotions appeared to cross his face. Surprise, anger, shame and finally heartbreaking sadness. “Why are you here?” His words were strangled and he put his hands through his hair, standing it on end. “I was worried about you, I couldn't just leave. Clearly I'm needed here.” I indicated the mess around us.
    And suddenly, Clay crumpled to the floor. He brought his knees to his chest and began to rock. Um. Okay. I had no idea how to handle this reaction from him. Screaming and yelling; I could deal with that. Clay in a near fetal position on the floor as if he were trying to hold himself together...that was something else entirely.
    I was really scared. Whatever was going on with this boy was beyond anything I had ever experienced. He needed something greater than I could offer. Yet I stayed. I didn't really have a choice. Again, those insane feelings of mine.
    Maybe I was an idiot, or a glutton for punishment. Or maybe I naively subscribed to the foolish notion that my love could save him. Whatever the reason, I entered the room and sank to the carpet beside that sad and broken boy.
    I touched his arm and he flinched. “No, Maggie. I don't want you to see me like this.” He hid his face in his arms while he continued to rock. His body shook with the force of his sobs. Each guttural noise ripped at my heart and I wanted to gather him to my chest and rock with him.
    “I'm not sure what's going on with you. But I'm not going anywhere.” I assured him, speaking softly as though to a wild animal that would run at any moment. I reached out and touched his arm again. This time he didn't pull away. I took that as an encouraging sign so I crawled closer to him. “Clayton, look at me please.” I murmured. I gently lifted his face. His eyes were red and blood shot, his cheeks flushed. The cut at his hairline had come open again and a small trickle of blood made its way down his forehead. He seemed to have sobered up a bit; his eyes were less bleary but there was something still there that worried me.
    I hesitantly wiped the blood from his face and then left my fingers on his cheek. Clay closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He seemed so tortured. What could be eating him up so? “What's going on with you?” I asked, not entirely sure he'd give me an answer. Clay shook his head. “You should go. I don't wanna drag you into my shit. You deserve better than that. Than me.” I slid my fingers down until they rested on the side of his neck. We were so close, our breath mingled