Love Me Before You Lose Me

Time's Up

He's lost the track of time ever since he got home from the cafe. Days turned into nights and nights turned into days. He only left his bed to use the toilet and get some water. He hasn't answered the phone from anyone. He would often try to leave his bed but felt a magnet was pulling him back, creating an itch that could only be satisfied once he was within the warm confines of his bed. His hair was greasy and no doubt his mouth stank. Was this depression?

He was just about to start another episode of the documentary he's been binging when someone knocked on his front door. He hid deeper underneath his covers as if whoever was there could see him.

"H/N! Don't make me pull out the emergency key. You better answer this door in the next five seconds." His mother's voice had him hopping out of bed and jogging towards the door. He caught his breath and opened it, leaning against the door jamb. The sunlight blinded him for a second but then there she was. His mother. Standing on his front porch. With bags.

"What ever happened to you? When was the last time you showered? Or ate?" She pushed past him and came inside. "Or opened a window?"

He sighed and closed the door. "Hello, mother."

"Don't mother me. Upstairs you get." She pushed him towards the staircase. "Take a shower. We'll talk after." She dismissed him and started cleaning up the mess that was currently his house.

He begrudgingly went up the stairs, dragging his feet towards the bathroom. He started the shower and took off his clothes. Once he was inside, the hot steam enveloped him in a warm hug. He reached for the shampoo when a memory popped up.

"Your hair is dry so this shampoo will help with that."

His eyes felt hot as he realized he had been standing there for a while. He shook his head and squeezed a dollop onto his hand and slathered it all over his hair.

He quickly washed the rest of his body as he felt the little bit of energy he had was rapidly decreasing. Once he was fully dried and dressed, he marched downstairs to find his mother fussing over the stove. He took a seat on one of the barstools. "Something smells nice."

"I made you some spaghetti and meatballs."

Right then his stomach decided to growl. Traitor. "That sounds really good."

"Of course it does, I made it. Now, while the sauce simmers, want to tell me what's going on?" She wiped her hands on a dish towel and sat across him.

He shrugged. "What makes you think something is wrong?"

She looked at him like he grew two heads. "A mother knows things. Now out with it."

He sighed, already regretting what he was about to do. "Y/N broke up with me." He muttered.

"I'm sorry, what? Can you say that louder?" She held her ear towards him.

"I got dumped, okay!" He said louder.

His mother sat back and crossed his arms. "What did you do?"

He was a little insulted that she jumped to such a conclusion but he also knew he had no right to feel that way because he did do something. He took another deep breath and told his mother exactly what happened.

A few heartbeats of silence followed his spiel.

"First of, I feel like I need to apologize to you." She held out her hands to halt his protests. "Your father and I, our marriage, wasn't just hard on us. It was hard on you too and I'm sorry we failed to see that." She stood up and walked to the stove to stir the sauce. "The truth is, the reason we got a divorce wasn't just because we grew tired of each other. Your father was unfaithful. He had met someone when he was out with his friends and developed a relationship with them. The night we told you about the divorce was also the same night he told me everything."

He shot up, the stool falling behind him loud. "Dad cheated? Why didn't you tell me before?"

She set the spatula down. "I didn't want the mistake he made to change how you saw him. He was still your father."

Everything his mother told him shook to him to his core. He never would've thought his father would be capable of such a thing but then again, was he any different? Sure he didn't cheat but he disregarded their feelings and only thought about himself.

His mother saw his face and her eyes softened. "Oh honey." She walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "I didn't tell you all of that so you could feel guilty about what you did. I told you because your father and I made a mistake in not keeping things clear with you. When you told me what happened, I felt like such a failure of a parent. It was a clear reflection of some built up resentment that led you to how you think about relationships today." She pulled him close, her scent so comforting. "I'm sorry."

He hesitantly tapped her back in an attempt to hug her. "Mom?"

"Mhm hmm?"

"I think the sauce is burning."

She let him go and ran to the stove, and stirred the sauce. "It's good. We're good." She plated them some pasta and they sat down at the table.

His first bite tasted like heaven. The minute it hit his stomach, he devoured everything on his plate and went back for seconds. His mother didn't say anything, just let him do his thing which he appreciated.

"Thanks for this." He muttered, while looking at his empty plate, finally satiated.

"Don't thank me. Just do better." She stood up and took both their plates to the sink.

He tapped his finger on the table wondering what exactly do better meant. He must've sat there long after his mother kissed him goodbye and left with the promise to be back next week. He needed to do better.