T H E O G R A Y

LOGAN AND I head to the living room after putting away the foodstuff, and once we take a seat, Jaxon speaks up.

"You guys, check this out!" he says, grabbing everyone's attention. Cameron and Sam pause the game on the screen and turn, with Lydia sitting next to Sam on the floor.

"I got a tattoo," Jaxon says, pulling up one of his sleeves and stretching out his arm, showing off the ink design. "Pretty cool, right?"

"Dang, dude," Sam says, dropping the controller and grabbing Jaxon's hand to get a better look. "When did you get that?"

Jaxon shrugs. "Two days ago. I'm sure the ladies are gonna love it." He winks at Soph, and the urge to smack him upside the head hits me hard.

"Is that a dragon?" Lydia asks, getting up from the floor. Her eyes are glued to the design as she sits next to Jaxon, who keeps tugging his sleeve higher, revealing more of the dragon winding up his forearm.

"Yep."

"Woah," Lydia and Soph say at the same time, both sounding impressed.

"But where's the head?" Soph asks, her hand lightly brushing his arm as she searches for it. "Did you just tattoo the body?"

Jaxon's smirk grows wider. "Oh, it's on my chest. Wanna see?"

"Oh no," Soph says, shaking her head, but Lydia's already bouncing in excitement.

"Yes!" Lydia says quickly.

"Oh hell no," Logan says, his voice sharp.

Cameron laughs from the kitchen. I didn't even notice him move, but now he's grabbing a pack of chips, dumping some onto a plate, and heading back to sit on the floor.

"Did it hurt?" Cameron asks, tossing a chip into his mouth.

"Of course it hurts, look how red my arm is." Jaxon stretches his arm out further and I lean in a bit. Sure enough, the skin around the ink looks raw and irritated.

"That looks painful," I blurt out, and Jaxon nods proudly.

"Right?" he says, then smirks. "I'm getting the next arm done next week."

"Of course you are," Sam says, rolling his eyes. He leaves his chair, grabs a chip from Cameron's plate, and picks up the controller again.

"Why can't I see it?" Lydia whines, turning and giving Logan her best innocent face. Logan's still glaring at Jaxon like he's debating murder.

"The only man you can look at shirtless is your fiancé, baby. And he's right here-"

"Without a tattoo," Lydia cuts him off, and the guys all burst out laughing - including me.

Jaxon, not one to let things go, turns his attention back to Soph. "Offer still stands, Soph."

Soph chuckles. "Thanks, but I'm good. I was just surprised. This is the first time I'm seeing an actual tattoo up close."

"So, Do you like it?" Jaxon asks, grinning. "Are you into guys with tattoos then?"

My gaze focus on Soph instantly with that question because if she says yes, that means I need to endure
needles for hours then.

Soph gives it a thought, then shakes her head. "I don't think I am. But maybe Alex is."

Something in Jaxon's eyes shifts. "Oh really?" he says, leaning in a little that yep, their knees are touching now.

She chuckles like she knows exactly what she's doing. "Yeah, I think so. Want me to ask for you?"

"You know what, Soph," Jaxon says, throwing an arm around her shoulders, "I like you. And yes, please do."

His arm stays a little longer, and I know it sounds like I'm being a possessive guy, but when you realize your feelings for a particular girl, it just makes you that way.

"Hands off, Romeo," I say, only half-joking as I shoot him a look.

Jaxon laughs, giving Soph's shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go. "Relax, man. I'm just being friendly." He stands up and heads to the kitchen. "Besides, she's not into tattoos. I need a girl who actually likes them."

"Like Alex," Sam teases, glancing at Jaxon whose smile drops. He grabs an apple from the fridge and chucks it at him, but Sam catches it easily and grins, all teeth. "Thanks, man. I needed the protein."

Logan and Lydia laugh, and then Lydia pushes herself up from the floor.

"Where you going, babe?" Logan asks in a worried tone.

"Nowhere," she replies easily, then looks at me. "Theo, can I have a word with you?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just heads for the balcony.

I glance at Logan, who immediately raises both hands in defense. "I didn't say anything, I swear."

From his tone, I believe him. I sigh and start getting up, but just as I'm about to follow her, Soph's voice pipes up behind me.

"Umm..." she starts, sounding shy and a little hesitant. "Do you guys like... brownies? Because-"

"YES!" all the guys shout at once, cutting her off before she can even finish.

I glance back just in time to catch Sam clapping a hand over his heart. "Theo, I think I'm gonna marry Soph," he says dramatically.

I roll my eyes, but I can't stop the grin tugging at my mouth when I see Soph laughing and getting comfortable now. I had a feeling she'd feel uneasy around the guys, but I guess I was wrong.

She's already heading into the kitchen, where Jaxon's busy pulling out ingredients for the brownies like he's her sous-chef.

Meanwhile, Lydia's out on the balcony, waiting. I step outside, and her face slowly turns into a frown.

"Hey, is everything good?" I ask, noticing the shift.

She nods but her expression doesn't quite match. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. What about you? Are you alright?"

"Uh... yeah?" I glance over at Logan, who's completely engrossed in the game on the screen, then back to Lydia. "Did Logan say that I'm not?"

"Oh no... okay, a little," she says, her voice softening. "But it's been a while. He told me about the time you almost fainted practicing alone at the rink."

Oh. That accident.

"Are you alright now?" she adds, her voice full of concern. "I know it's in the past, and I shouldn't be bringing it up. I've wanted to ask for a while, but Logan said you wouldn't be in the best mood to talk about it."

"I see," I mutter. "Well, I'm fine now. And thanks for not asking then. I don't think I would've been able to talk to you about it back then." I laugh, but it feels forced.

She shakes her head. "You don't need to talk about it now either. It's not something you can talk about with me, especially since we're not exactly close, and I don't blame you for that. All I'm saying is, if you ever find yourself in that kind of position again, maybe talk to someone you feel comfortable with." She turns to glance at the living room. "And if not Logan, maybe someone else. Someone who means a lot to you."

My eyes shift to Soph the moment she says that last part. She's focused on the brownies, swatting Jaxon's hand away as he tries to sneak a taste.

"You know, don't you?" I say, looking back at Lydia, who's already staring at me, knowing exactly what I'm thinking.

"Logan didn't tell you?" I add.

"Nope." She chuckles softly. "I have eyes too, you know."

I exhale slowly, trying to shake off the tightness in my chest. I should have known Lydia would figure it out too.

These two...

"Will you tell her?" she asks, her eyes wide with excitement. "Or does she already know?"

I shake my head. "No, but I will tell her."

Soon. I hope.

Lydia nods, then sighs with contentment. "Okay, then. I'll be going." She gives me a brief smile before heading off.

I rest my hands on the balcony rail, looking out at the living room, and I find myself smiling.

"Yo, Theo! You have to taste this!" Jaxon calls from the kitchen, still sticking his hand in the bowl, and I can see how frustrated Soph looks.

She shoots me a glance, holding herself back from snapping at him.

I laugh and decide it might be time to step in and rescue her from Jaxon's chaos.

"Jaxon, why don't you-" I start to leave the balcony, but then I hear a voice call my name from outside, freezing me in place. My stomach drops, and the brief moment of happiness I had vanishes.

"Theo!" the voice calls again, and I stand there, frozen then I look down and see my mother, her frantic movements pushing against Mr. Nick as he tries to hold her back. My heart races, the air suddenly feeling thick and heavy. I'm caught between the urge to run and the need to confront whatever the hell she's doing here.

Why now? I think, my stomach twisting. Why does she does have to make a scene now?

The frustration builds inside me, my breath shallow. I can't believe this is happening. Of all the times, now is when she chooses to show up.

"Please, Theo! Let's just talk, okay?" Her voice is desperate, and it breaks through the noise in my head, pushing me further into a spiral of anger and helplessness. Every word she says feels like another weight added to my chest. Why can't she just leave me alone?

I hear Logan's voice pull me back to the present. "Is someone calling your name?"

Shit, I think, my pulse quickening. I force myself to look away from the window, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it's hard with my mind in chaos. I can feel everyone's eyes on me now, the weight of their attention pushing against me like a tangible thing.

I don't want to make a scene. I don't want to let this mess ruin the night. But she's not letting me go, not even here, not even when I'm finally starting to relax.

I grip the edge of the balcony railing, trying to breathe, but the air feels thin, like I can't get enough in my lungs. Why does she do this?

"Nothing's wrong," I force out, the words feeling like they're choking me. "It's fine." My voice cracks as I look toward Logan and then back at the others, desperately trying to mask the panic rising inside me. "Everything's fine, okay?" I repeat, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

I can feel their gazes, the confusion, the silent questions. I don't care. I just need to get away from this.

Without waiting for a response, I turn, moving toward the door.

I need to get out.

The sound of my name calling again only fuels my need to leave. I grab my keys from the counter, my hands shaking as I slip them into my pocket. Just leave, just leave.

"Hey, what's going on?" Sam asks, his voice full of concern as I make my way toward the door.

I don't even look at him. "Nothing," I mutter, shaking my head as if to convince both him and myself that it's nothing. "Everything's alright."

But it's not.

It's never alright with her.

I repeat the words like a mantra, telling myself that everything is fine as I head for the elevator. The metallic doors slide open, and I step inside, pressing the button.

She can't keep doing this. Not now, not ever again.

I hear footsteps behind me, and I glance back to see Soph standing in the hallway, her eyes wide with concern. She takes a step forward, and before I can stop myself, my finger jams into the button for the door to close. The door starts to shut, and I can see the hurt in her eyes as she watches me pull away from her.

The look on her face rips through me, but I force myself to turn my gaze forward, pressing my back against the cold metal of the elevator wall.

Why did she have to show up? Why couldn't she have stayed away?

I slide down the wall, sitting on the floor, my head in my hands. My mind races. My mother-Why does she have to embarrass me like this?

I can still hear her voice, pleading, calling my name, and it makes my chest tighten even more.

I close my eyes, trying to drown out the thoughts, but they're relentless, hammering at me. I should have expected it, but I didn't. I didn't expect her to show up here, of all places, not when I was finally starting to find some peace with things.

But here she was, ripping apart the small amount of control I had left.

The elevator jerks as it starts moving down, and I try to steady my breath, but my mind is a storm, swirling around everything-my mom, Soph, this mess-and I hate that I can't escape it.

I need to be strong. I need to be better than this.

The elevator dings, and I quickly wipe my face with my sleeve, forcing myself to pull it together. As the doors slide open, I spot a couple of people waiting to step in.

They freeze when they see me sitting on the floor, looking like a complete mess.

I let out a huge sigh, pushing myself to my feet as fast as I can, brushing invisible dust off my jeans like that'll somehow erase the sight they just walked in on. I don't even look at them-I just step out, my hands stuffed deep in my pockets, my head down.

The evening air hits me instantly, a cool breeze brushing against my skin as I step outside. I lift my eyes and, just like that, my heart sinks a little more.

From down here, I can see my balcony-and all my friends are gathered outside now, looking over the railing.

And Soph... she's there too.

She spots me almost immediately, her hand shooting out to tap Logan's arm. He turns and follows her gaze down to me, and I watch him tap Jaxon and the others to pull them all back inside.

One by one, they disappear from view, giving me some space.

The tight knot in my chest loosens-just a little.

But it doesn't take long for a new wave of tension to crash over me, because now it's not just them watching. It's everyone outside. The neighbors, people walking by, lingering stares from strangers. All of them slowing down, trying to figure out what's happening.

And at the center of it all-my mother.

Still squirming lightly in Mr. Nick's grasp, still making a scene.

God, why does it always have to be like this?

I force my legs to move, heading straight for them. Each step feels heavier, my fists clenching tighter at my sides.

"Mr. Nick," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, even though it's shaking inside me.

He turns his head slightly toward me, his grip still firm around her arms.

"It's okay," I add, a little louder this time. "I'll handle it from here."

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching my face like he's trying to be sure I'm really okay. Then, slowly, he nods. He gives the other security guard a look, and they both release her.

The moment their hands let go, Mum's whole body slumps forward a little, relief flashing across her face.

Her smile is small and unsteady. Almost like she knows she's won something.

But then I see it-her eyes.

Red. Glassy.

Like she's been crying... or like she's not really here at all.

The security guard closest to me mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me to catch, "She looks high."

My jaw tightens painfully, my teeth grinding together.

Because the truth hits me like a fist to the gut.

She's not just being dramatic. She's drunk.

Of course she is.

That's why she's here. That's why she's acting like this.

It's not about me. It's not about anything real. It's about whatever bottle she finished before stumbling her way here.

I clench my fists harder, nails biting into my palms, forcing myself not to lose it. Not here. Not now. Not again.

I take a slow, shaky breath and lift my head, meeting her bleary, unfocused gaze.

"Hi, sweetheart," she slurs softly, her voice sticky-sweet, like none of this is wrong.

I don't say anything back.

I can't.

Not yet.

Because if I open my mouth now, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop everything that's building inside me.

◇◇◇

It's been over an hour.

I sit there on the old couch in my mum's tiny apartment, staring at the floor, at the cracked walls, at anything but the mess I'm sitting in.

If I wait one more hour, I'm gone. I told myself that when I walked through that door - one more hour, and then I'm done. The apartment smells like smoke and sadness, like broken promises hanging in the air.

I set a packet of hangover tea on the table earlier, in case she wakes up and I'm not here. I figured it was the least I could do. Or maybe it's the most.

My phone hasn't stopped ringing. Logan, Jaxon, Sam... even Soph. They're asking if I'm okay, where I am, if I need anything. I could tell them I'm fine.

That's what everyone says, right?

But the word fine sits in my throat like something rotten. It's not true. I'm far from fine. I'm so fine it hurts. It burns. Sometimes I think it would've been easier if I was never born, if it meant I didn't have to keep sitting in places like this, watching the woman who's supposed to love me destroy herself.

Soph's been calling too. I didn't have it in me to lie to her, not tonight. I just texted her that I'd call after this, and she didn't argue. She just said okay. Like she trusted me to handle it. And somehow that made me love her even more, made my chest ache in a way I didn't know it could.

I lean my head back against the couch and close my eyes for a second, feeling the weight of everything press down. I'm so tired. Tired of being the one who picks up the pieces. Tired of pretending this isn't killing me. A mother is supposed to be your safe place, your shield from the world. Mine has always been the reason I have to put my armor on in the first place.

The bedroom door creaks open and I snap my head up. My mum's standing there, one hand pressed to her forehead, looking like she's about to fall over.

"Theo?" she says, her voice hoarse and small.

I stand up immediately, even though part of me wants to stay planted to that couch and not move. "Do you want tea?" I ask, heading to the kitchen without waiting for her answer.

I fill the kettle with water, turn on the stove, and keep my back to her. I hear her shuffle closer, the sound of her dragging feet making my chest tighten even more.

"Theo..." she says again.

"I don't want to talk to you until you're sober," I cut her off, my voice low and flat. I can't do this. I can't have another one of those conversations where she promises things she'll never remember in the morning.

The kettle whistles, loud in the small space. I pour the hot water into a clean mug, drop the tea bag in, and hand it to her without looking too hard at her face. Her fingers tremble when she takes it.

"Thank you," she whispers.

I nod stiffly and walk back to the living room, sinking down on the couch again. I watch her sip at the tea, her whole body shaking with every breath she takes. And all I can think about is how wrong this is. How wrong it's always been.

A mother should be the one who holds you when you fall. Not the reason you feel like you're falling every damn day.

And maybe the worst part of it all is that no matter how many times she breaks me, some part of me still waits. Still hopes. Still wants her to be someone she can't be.

And I'm so tired of hoping.

She takes another shaky sip of the tea, then sets the mug down with trembling hands. I watch her, my heart feeling like it's been put through a shredder, piece by piece.

"I'm sorry," she says, voice barely above a whisper.

The words hit harder than a slap. I let out a short, dry laugh - a sound that doesn't even feel like it belongs to me.

"You're sorry," I repeat, tasting the bitterness on my tongue. I shake my head slowly, a humorless smile tugging at my lips. "You're not sorry, Mum. You're never sorry."

Her eyes shine with tears, and she shakes her head stubbornly, wiping at them with the back of her hand like a child. "I am," she croaks out. "I am, Theo."

The tea sloshes as she sets the mug down harder than she means to. It wobbles on the table, forgotten. She looks at me - really looks at me - and for a second, she almost seems like the mother I used to dream about having.

"I'm really sorry," she says again, her voice breaking. "I was just... upset. You left me alone. You didn't even bother answering my calls so I...."

Something inside me snaps.

I shoot to my feet before I even realize what I'm doing. "And so you decided to act that way?" My voice rises without my permission. "Mum, you literally embarrassed me in front of everyone!"

She flinches like I've hit her, but I'm too far gone to pull back now.

""You humiliated me," I continue, my voice shaking with all the things I've never said. "You showed up drunk. And your reason is because I wasn't answering your calls?"

Tears are spilling down her cheeks now, but I can't stop. I can't.
Because once you start bleeding, it's almost impossible to put the blood back in.

"What did you expect me to do?" she whispers, wiping her tears as she stands up, looking so small it almost breaks me more. "You don't want anything to do with me. You forgot me."

"I didn't forget you!" I lash out, the words ripping out of me.

"You did!" she shouts back, her voice cracking. "Theo, I'm trying here. I am. I literally quit drugs because you said you didn't want me to do them anymore. Do you know how hard that was for me? Those drugs helped with the pain of not being with you! I'm trying now to be with you, and you won't allow me!"

"You want to be with me?" I mutter, feeling almost breathless.

"Yes," she says immediately, eyes wide and shining with desperate tears.

"Then where were you during my game?"She doesn't answer. And that silence says everything.

"You want to be with me, Mum? Fine," I press, voice shaking. "Then where were you when I needed support?"

"I didn't have any money to enter," she whispers, finally looking down and sinking onto the chair. "You know I wanted to come, but I had no mone-"

"Then why didn't you tell me?" I cut her off, stepping forward, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. "I could have paid for you. Huh? You think I would have cared?"

"I didn't want you to use your father's money," she says, voice so low it's almost a breath.

"That's a bloody lie," I say, sitting back, exhausted. "You're lying and-"

"I'm not!" she interrupts, frantic. "I... I remembered your dad is still helping you out with college and so you'd use his money. I didn't want you using his money on me."

"But I use his money on you all the time," I say bitterly. "That tea you drank? It's his money I used. So why this lie, Mum? Why?"

I lean back against the couch, my chest tight.

"Mum," I say quietly, deadly calm now, "if you don't give me a reason - a good one - I'm gone."

She stares at me like she's searching for a way out - but there's no way out.
Not this time.

"I..." she starts, voice trembling, her fingers clutching the edge of the table like it's the only thing keeping her upright. "I didn't want you to see me that way."

I frown, my arms folding across my chest without thinking.

"What way?" I ask, my voice rough.

"Poor," she whispers. "Broken. Like... like your father always said I would be."

She presses a hand to her mouth, and for a second, it's like she's trying not to throw up the words she's kept buried for years.

"I didn't want you to see the mother who couldn't even afford a ticket to her own son's game. I didn't want you to look up and find me in the stands wearing the same clothes you last saw me in. I didn't want you to feel sorry for me, Theo. I didn't want to be your shame."

Her voice cracks on that last word, and she looks down at her shaking hands.

And God, it hurts - it hurts because I get it.
I get it so much I want to tear my own heart out.

For a moment, I just sit there, staring at her - this woman who's supposed to be my anchor, my home - and instead, she's just... a shipwreck. A battered wreck, left behind by every storm she was too small to survive.

And the worst part is, I can't even hate her for it.

Because how do you hate someone who's already drowning?

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, scrubbing a hand over my face. My chest feels like it's collapsing inward, like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

"You're not my shame," I whisper hoarsely. "You're my mum."

And that's the damn problem.

I go quiet, staring at the chipped floor, feeling like everything inside me is cracked too. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her getting up. She moves slowly, almost scared, like I might run if she moves too fast. She sits beside me, her body so close I can feel her warmth, and then her hand wraps around mine. I tense up. I try my best to accept it. To let her in. To not pull away.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, squeezing my hand tight. "I'm so sorry, Theo. I promise-"

"No," I cut her off before she can say more.

She flinches. "What?"

"Don't... Don't promise," I shake my head, my voice rough and tired. I pull my hand away from hers, and it's like I just stole the last bit of hope from her face. She looks even smaller now, more hopeless, sitting there with nothing left to hold onto.

"Instead of promises," I say, "I want results."

She stares at me like she's trying to figure out if she heard me right. "I already stopped the drugs," she says quickly, almost defensively.

I almost smile because of how badly she lies, but it's not a smile filled with joy. It's hollow. "Mum, I know you didn't," I say softly. "You don't have to lie to me. Not anymore."

She doesn't argue. Doesn't even try. That silence alone tells me everything I need to know.

I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, feeling like I'm barely holding myself together. "Mum, if you're worried about being poor, about me seeing you like this... I can help you. I can give you some of my savings to start something up."

Her eyes widen immediately, her whole body perking up like I just handed her the world. "Really?" she breathes out, almost excited. "How much?"

And that's what breaks something deeper inside me. She didn't even hesitate. Didn't even stutter. It was like the idea of money lit her up in ways my presence never could.

"I'll give it to you," I say, voice harder now, "only when I see changes. Real changes. If you want any of that money, you need to quit the drinking and the drugs for good."

She nods so fast it makes me dizzy. "I will, I promise-"

"I said no promises," I snap, sharper than I mean to.

"Okay, okay, no promises," she says quickly, her voice cracking around the words.

I eventually get up, feeling like the air is too heavy to breathe in. I need to get out. She tries to talk to me, her voice chasing after me, but I'm already halfway to the door. Before I leave, I pause and say, "Send me your account details. I'll transfer some money for your food."

She smiles at that, and before I can move again, she wraps her arms around me. I stand there, stiff, not hugging her back. I just wait for it to be over. And when it is, I step out of her apartment without looking back.

Outside, the sky is a deep, suffocating black. I drag myself to my car, open the door, and collapse into the driver's seat. I rest my forehead on the steering wheel, feeling too weak, too drained to even react.

Sometimes-just sometimes-I wish I wasn't born into this world. Because it's too much. It's all too much.

I was happy earlier. I was feeling good about myself. About Soph.

But she's seen too much of me. Too much of my broken life. And putting her deeper into this mess by telling her how I feel... it would only complicate everything. It would drag her down into this chaos that I can't even climb out of myself.

It's better to hold back these feelings. Better to end whatever we're doing before it grows into something I can't control. Because not all relationships end like Logan and Lydia's. This is reality. This isn't some fairytale.

And if I carry the hope-the stupid, reckless hope-that asking Soph to be my girlfriend would somehow fix everything... then what? Who's to say it will last? Who's to say she'll still smile when she sees the mess I really am?

Who's to say she won't leave too?

My phone rings, cutting through the storm of my thoughts. I glance at the screen and see her name. Soph.

I answer it and press the phone to my ear, closing my eyes for a moment because her voice-God, her voice-makes me feel things I'm trying so hard to bury.

"Theo?" she says, her voice soft and worried.

"Soph," I breathe out, the sound of her name grounding me for a second.

She doesn't say anything for a moment, like she's listening for something in my silence. "Are you okay?" she asks, and of course that would be the first thing she asks. Not where I am. Not what happened. Just if I'm okay.

I chuckle quietly, the sound broken at the edges. "Yeah," I say, leaning back against the seat, feeling the lie slide out too easily.

"Yeah. I'm okay."