Challenge - Angry

As Joey was making scrambled eggs for their breakfast the next morning he sighed. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. There was no handbook for this, how do you deal with someone suicidal? Someone that hadn't spoken all morning, someone that didn't even have the will to move. He was only now making breakfast because the silence was too much. The constant silent response he got to his questions was too much for him, a guy usually surrounded by loud relatives and laughter.

Chris was just lying in bed. A blank _expression on his face staring at who knows what. If it wasn't for the heaving of his chest Joey would have thought for sure that he was dead. As he carried the tray in he smiled widely, hoping that the old saying about the world smiling with you was true. In this case it wasn't. He was welcomed with nothing. Not even a blink of eyelids, that came later. He placed the tray down on the bed, just within Chris' reach.

"I made you scrambled eggs. I figured everyone likes scrambled eggs right?.. So um, you just eat up and I'll be back in a minute." nothing. But when he went back an hour later a quarter of the eggs were gone and the glass of water finished.

The day went on pretty much the same. Joey would take in food, try to entice Chris into conversation that was never reciprocated and leave sadly only to return an hour later and find that some food had been eaten. Joey took this as a good sign. At least Chris wasn't trying to starve himself to death.

His last visit that night was too drop off a glass of water in case Chris woke in the middle of the night needing a drink. This time he tried no conversation. Simply went in and left the water on the bedside table and said goodnight. He was just happy to be climbing into bed and losing himself to sleep. He was awoken a few hours later when a warm body shifted next to him, a pained _expression on his face. Joey could only wonder how long Chris had been in his bed and pull the older man into the safety of his arms before falling back into a deep, semi-contented sleep.

This routine went on for the next few days; the only difference was that now Chris added 'thank you' to his vocabulary. Making a total of two words spoken numerous times during the day. A 'thank you' every time Joey brought him food or water. These thanks were filled with politeness. As if he suddenly remembered all the manners his mother had taught him as a young boy. And then there was the 'thank you' that Joey heard before they both fell asleep for the night. Usually tangled together in a desperate embrace. Chris' hands clutching to the Italian's body while Joey ran soothing fingers through short dark hair. It was these times that the 'thank you' held more. Held a need, a desperation and a gratefulness that left Joey nothing but hope that everything was going to be ok.

****

Near a week had passed and they were still in the same routine as before. This time the difference was that Chris was out of bed and situated in the living room watching cartoons. Yet still he never said anything other then 'thank you'. Joey had just put the phone down from the restaurant. His family had been great about the time he took off, not asking any questions and not pressuring him to go back. But he wanted to go back. He wanted to go out and have conversation, with people and not himself. But he couldn't leave the house. He couldn't leave Chris alone because if truth were told he was scared that when he got back the sad older man would be dead. A pained _expression fitted across the young man's face. They may not have talked but Joey liked the guy. There was something about him that drew the younger man to him. So much so that he was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep without the little man anymore. He sighed to himself and could feel his anger boiling. Getting an idea he stormed into the living room and stood between the T.V and Chris.

"Get up." the tone in his voice caused big brown eyes to lift and stare at the seemingly angry man.

"Get up Chris. Get in the shower and get dressed because we have to go to work."

"W..what?" the brown eyes fell again, this time to rest on his clenched hands. He held them tight together but anyone could see they were shaking slightly.

"We are going to work. My family owns a restaurant and they need us to help out, plus I can't stand the silence anymore. This is ridiculous Chris. You told me you didn't want to die but you are acting as though you are already dead."

"I'm sorry.. D don't get angry at me.. I just, I can't.. It's hard."

"It's hard for me too! You've hardly spoken. Hardly moved. I don't know how to deal with this. I can't! I'm scared. I'm scared to leave in case I come back and you've killed yourself. I can't live like this." Joey took a few shallow breaths to calm his nerves and watched as Chris stood from the couch and started to walk to the bedroom.

"I'll get my stuff and move back next door. I'm sorry I did this to you." he stopped to whisper the words with childlike vulnerability and then hurried to the door. Joey caught him just before he could close the door and reached for his hand, which was freely given.

"I don't want you to leave. I just want you to live. I saw how you were before. When you first moved in here. You were lively and the only person I knew that could out talk Mrs Patterson in 15A. We weren't friends Chris but I knew you, I know how you were and you need to get back to that." tears shone in two sets of chocolate eyes. Chris could only nod in answer.

"Good. So go and shower, and get dressed because today is the day you become a waiter." Joey dropped the hand he held and turned to walk back to the living room. He paused before leaving and sent Chris a brilliant smile.

"Just like you told your mum." he was rewarded with a wistful smile. The first smile Joey had seen from him since he found the dreaded letter in the stair well.