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Jules Vaughn was standing by the window, watching people in the pool when Nate Jacobs walked up beside her quietly and took her hand. He was trying not to startle her, but he could tell by the way she quickly jerked her neck to look at him that he had interrupted something.
“I need your help...” he began quietly. “Mommy.”
Jules felt immediate anxiety at that word, mommy. That almost always meant she was about to get into something she didn’t want to be part of. She looked Nate over and took in the sight, his eyes already pleading.
“What do you need?” She asked.
Nate leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, “I really really really gotta go and I can’t find the bathroom.”
Looking at him more closely, Jules could tell that Nate was fucked up. His pupils were huge and never talked like this irl.
“Why are you asking me?” Jules demanded. “I’m not your friend.”
“I know, but...” Still holding her hand, Nate squirmed foot to foot. He was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie with the hood pulled all the way up. Trying to look lowkey, Jules guessed, but combined with the way he was acting, it just made him look... small. Jules felt something for him.
“But?”
“But...” He struggled to continue. “I held it way too long and... we used to talk like this when we texted!”
Jules’ features remained neutral and Nate got more desperate.
“Please!” he begged. “You know when your phone is dying but you don’t wanna be bothered to plug it up, so you just think ‘I’ll plug it up when it gets to 20%’ but you don’t and suddenly it’s at 10% and you really really gotta find a changer? Please Jules... I'm about to die!”
For as much trouble as he was any other time, Nate looked really cute when he was humbled and pleading. Jules was familiar.
“...Fiiine,” said Jules, leading him away from the crowded kitchen by their already connected hands.
“Thank you, thank you!” Nate cheered from behind.
Jules didn’t know where the bathroom was either, but she took pleasure in opening doors til she found one. She liked seeing other people’s homes and decorations. She wondered why Nate couldn’t have done that himself, but she knew that he had a tendency to find himself unable to think when he had taken something. He wasn’t the only one, either.
“Here,” said Jules, opening the bathroom door for him. She tugged his hand, but he hesitated.
What is he doing? she wondered. Then he rushed into the bathroom and closed the door.
Jules leaned her head on the door, listening for the sound of Nate relieving himself so she could leave. But she heard nothing but small whimpers.
“Nate...?” She asked, knocking on the door, feeling like a hovering mother.
“Are you okay?”
“Mommy!” She heard Nate say in a choked sob.
Jules turned the knob to find that the boy hadn’t even locked the door. As she opened the door, she stopped short and took in the scene before her: Nate Jacobs was wetting himself. A large dark spot was spreading over his grey sweatpants and his eyes were filled with tears.
How the hell does this happen? Jules wondered, quickly closing the door behind her. She didn’t bother asking, because she knew Nate wouldn’t have answers.
Instead she pulled him in for a hug.
Nate clung to the girl immediately, attempting to bury his face in her shoulder. Jules carefully sat them both down on the side of the tub and leaned back to let him in. He was crying and sniffling like a child, and, as she rubbed his back, she wondered how many times he had been comforted like this before. Judging by the way the boys hands gripped her shirt, she guessed not many.