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his arm around me for me to lean on and we started out towards the stairs.
    “And Asher?” Mom called. We stopped at the bottom step, “Thank you.”
    “For what?” Asher called back.
    “For finding Killian and being such a good friend.”
    We stood there for a second before Asher nudged me into moving again. The climb up the stairs, which was slow and rather difficult, was taken one step at a time and mostly in silence. Finally we made it to my room and Asher helped me to my bed, then turned around. I thought he was leaving, but instead he shut the door and came back over to me.
    “What are you doing?” I asked him.
    “Your mom’s wrong, you know,” he said quietly,
    “I’ve not been a very good friend.”
    “You’re friends with Zack and Jesse,” I said, “They obviously come first. Like I said, I’m the back-up plan.
    Or I used to be. I’m nothing anymore. Why are you here?”
    He ignored my question and started rummaging through my drawers, pulling out dry clothes. I winced 62

    Bleeding Hearts
    when he opened my underwear drawer, but he just pulled out a pair of boxers and tossed them onto the bed.
    “His getting killed really upset you, huh?” he asked me, still digging through my dresser.
    “Geez, Asher, what do you think? I found him. And whoever killed him tried to kill me too. No, I’m not upset, I’m just flippin’ fine and dandy here.” Then to my great embarrassment I burst into tears.
    “Dammit,” he said rushing over to me, “Killian, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so dumb sometimes. It’s just...I didn’t realize you were so close to him and all.”
    “We weren’t that close,” I sniffled. I was really getting tired of crying.
    Asher picked up one of the towels and gently wiped off my face and then started drying my hair. I felt like a little kid again. “What are you doing?” I asked him again.
    “I guess this is my way of saying I’m sorry for being such a jerk,” he said, then he continued, “I had a big fight with Zack and Jesse. Earlier this week. I haven’t talked to them since.”
    “You did? Why? What in the world happened?”
    “I wanted to come see you after...well, you know, but they didn’t think I should.”
    “Shouldn’t hang around with fags, huh?” I said bitterly.
    Asher froze. We sat there for a few seconds, neither of us speaking or moving. Then Asher got up and picked up the shirt and sweat pants that he’d dropped when I had started crying. He brought them over and set them on the bed. He stood there for a second, as if trying to decide what to do. Suddenly he reached down, took off my glasses, and began pulling up my shirt.
    “Hey!” I yelped.
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    JOSH ATEROVIS
    “I’m just helping you with your shirt, dude,” he laughed.
    “I don’t need help, I can do it,” I insisted.
    “Oh, you can, huh? You can pull this wet shirt over your head without an extreme amount of pain?” he said in a teasing voice. “Just let me help. It’s okat. I’m not gonna rape you or anything.”
    He had a point. I gave him a dirty look then allowed him to help me untangle my arms from the wet material and pull it over my head. The maneuver still caused quite a bit of discomfort, and I knew he could tell. Once my shirt was off and all I was wearing were some wet bandages and soaked shorts, I suddenly became very self-conscious. I wasn’t unattractive or anything, but I also knew I wasn’t anywhere near as built as Asher was.
    “Help me get my shirt on,” I mumbled reaching for the dry one.
    “You need to change those bandages first, Kill,” Asher said.
    I sighed. He was right again, of course. “The stuff is in a basket by the couch downstairs,” I told him and he was gone in a flash. I decided to change my pants while he was gone, since it was much easier pulling on pants then pulling on a shirt, but I only got as far as my dry boxers before he was back. It didn’t seem like he could have had time to even get downstairs, and here he was back with the basket with me sitting in my boxers.
    “Your mom was