FREE STORY WITH EXCLUSIVE CONTENT. This is *not* a Paid Story.
Eighteen-year-old hockey prodigy Elliot Wexler has three goals for senior year. One: somehow graduate with a 3.5 GPA. Two: hide his bipolar disorder from his peers. And three: make it in...
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ELLIOT'S EYES ARE RED, his skin as white as snow, but when he sees me, I swear he lights up like a Christmas tree.
Adam and Elizabeth slip away, so I step into the room and close the door behind me. It's quiet in here, nothing but the beep of Elliot's pulse on the monitor. It ascends with every step I take toward his bed.
His stare flits from my eyes to the doll in my hands. Before coming in, I ran to the gift shop and grabbed him something. Because that's what he'd do for me. I figured, after all this time, I could try returning some of the sweetness he's given me.
Elliot takes the stuffed animal and puts it on his lap, reminding me of a little boy, his childlike candor lighting up my whole heart. "It's a moose," he says.
"Yeah. Like... Elliot Moose."
"Really? I didn't quite catch that part."
I grumble. "Shut up. It's not funny."
He hugs the moose. It's baby blue, probably meant for a child, but I love it with him. I hope he keeps it forever.
"I think I'm still a bit high, to be honest," he says.
I glare. "That's not funny, either."
Elliot grins. "Wanna know how I survived?"
I nod.
"I bought these pills from my dealer, and he slipped some vitamin C in there. Doctor said if they'd all been real, I probably wouldn't have made it." He laughs. "On the plus side, I probably won't need to eat another orange for a while, which is good because I hate oranges."
I can't help but smile. "I know you do."
We fall quiet. I sit on the edge of the bed, close enough for his leg beneath the white sheet to brush my thigh. He stares up at me with tears welling in his blue eyes, making them look like puddles of rain. He's ghostly pale and I've never seen such black bags on his skin, but he's still so beautiful that it tears up my heart. I look away.
"Last night," he says. "I really scared you, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did."
"I'm so sorry, Lucy. I'd never hurt you. You know that, right?"
"I know, El."
"I totally spazzed. I can't believe I threw something. If I'd hurt you, I can't even think about what I would've done."
"It couldn't be worse than what you did try to do."
He wipes away his tears, and I fidget with my fingers.
"I'm the one who should be apologizing," I say. "I mean... I shouldn't have run away like that. You needed me and—"
"No, it was all me. I'd been plotting it for weeks. I knew I was screwed up and I didn't ask for help. It was bound to happen eventually. But... I feel different now." There's a warmth in his smile. "I feel okay, you know? And I'm ready to take the help I need so I can get better and focus on my hockey stuff."
