I look up into those eyes that have grown so familiar, and I want him, oh god I want him.
And to the troll who rated my story down; if you're trying to annoy me, just remember that you're the one who has nothing better to do with your time other than sit at a computer making accounts to rate folk down to try and piss them off. Anyway, here's the chapter.
October 22nd: Sorry, not an update, I had to change a couple of things.
When we get home I go straight to my room, shaking my head to mom’s offer of chips.
“Not hungry,” I shrug, and I close the door before turning on the stereo and crashing down onto my bed. I exhale heavily as the intro to Ship In A Bottle by the Bouncing Souls starts playing loudly through the speakers.
I breathe deeply into my pillow.
It’s my fault.
He tried to kill himself because of me; because of what I told him in the hospital last week.
The stomach full of pills was all down to me.
Part of me tells me that might not be true; there could be any number of reasons behind what he did.
A stronger part of me tells me that it is my fault.
I can’t believe I actually feel sorry for the guy, but I have to say I really do. I guess the fact that he saved my life makes up for some of the shit that happened years ago.
Not completely, but then again, some wounds never heal. You just have to put up with them; move on. I guess that’s what I should be doing; accepting the past, but not dwelling on it.
I sigh into my pillow.
I need to let go.
And I need to apologise to Mr Way.
Apologise for reminding him of his past, and triggering him to attempt suicide.
He told me about his past; about how he was bullied, and went on to self harm and alcoholism, leading on to drugs and to rape. He trusted me from day one; felt that I was different from the others in my class.
And a small part of me is telling me that he’s different too.
I mean, I doubt many people who can live with themselves knowing that they’ve sexually abused people would jump into a river to save someone; especially not someone who couldn’t even be in the same room as them without freaking out only a week before.
Mr Way has changed since that day we met in that alleyway six years ago.
He’s changed for the better.
He got himself off the drugs and alcohol; he stopped self harming and ruining his own life; he got a job and picked himself off the ground...
And then I just sent him flying backwards, crashing back into the depression that he had left behind.
Wow. I feel like a piece of shit.
Actually; I am a piece of shit.
I could have just left it all behind and let go. Maybe we could be friends. I picture Mr Way in my mind; his pale white skin that almost glittered where the light shone on it; his greasy black hair that sat around his shoulders; his tight clothes that made him look more like a student than the teacher.
And then I picture his dark eyes.
Those eyes; those eyes that have haunted me for six years; those eyes that have caused me so much pain; those eyes I need to forget.
No, not forget. I just need to look at them in a new light. They don’t have to hold the pain of the past, but they could carry the hope that the future holds instead.
And then when they carry hope, maybe we could be friends.
More than friends...
No Frankie. No. He's your teacher! That's wrong on so many levels! Thoughts like this are the reason you got thrown of that bridge. The reason he jumped in to save you. The reason you told him everything. The reason he's sitting in that hospital wishing to die...
The reason you or may not be falling for him.
I jump to my feet, realising that I have to see Mr Way right now.
I have to apologise.
I practically fly through my bedroom door, not bothering to turn the stereo off. I stop when I reach the front door, glancing over my shoulder and calling, “I’m going out,” down the hall.
Mom pokes her head through from the kitchen, giving me a questioning look; probably because I never leave the house. I just smile, shrug, and open the door.
And then I’m off.
I walk down the street hurriedly, desperate to see Mr Way. I’m not quite sure why I want to see him so desperately, but I know that I have to do this.
When I get to the hospital, I don’t bother stopping at the reception, I just head straight on up to room two hundred and fifty four. The blinds are still drawn, but there is a light on inside the room, so I knock on the door loudly. For a moment nothing happens, but then I can hear something rustling, and the door opens.
Mr Way looks down at me, and I look up at him, and for a moment it’s almost as if we’re back at the school and I’m simply visiting him after school. Only it’s not that simple anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I cut across him, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
He stares at me, looking completely perplexed, but a moment later he steps aside and I duck into the hospital room. He closes the door after I’ve entered, and returns to his seat. I drag one of the plastic chairs that are sitting in the far corner over to beside Way’s, and crash down in it.
Mr Way turns to face me.
“Frank...” he says, “Why are you here?”
“I... I wanted to say sorry.”
“Sorry?” he asks, sounding confused, “Sorry for what?”
“For everything; I mean, it’s my fault you’re here.”
“What?! No, Frank, it’s not your fault. None of this is anyone’s fault but my own.”
“Did you force me to swallow the pills?”
“No, I just-”
“So there! It’s not your fault!” Mr Way nods as if that’s it.
“Sir!” I say, and he stops cutting across me.
“Sir; last week you seemed pretty happy with your life – you had a new job, you had a future, you had a life. And then what happened? I told you why it was that I was so scared of you, how I knew what you had done...”
Mr Way’s eyes flash darkly as he mentally delves into his past, and then they’re dead.
“And then what happened after that? You attempt suicide. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault...”
“Frank... It’s not- Look, you should go, really-”
“I’m not leaving,” I say, “Not until you understand that I’m sorry.”
“Fine,” Mr Way rolls his eyes, “I accept your fucking apology, now go,” he points to the door.
Still I shake my head.
“Sir,” I say, “You can’t get rid of me now that I’m here.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. Instead something flashes in his eyes and he frowns, “Frank...” he says, his voice low, “Get the fuck out before I do something I’ll regret later.”
I jump up from my chair and raise my arms so that I’m unable to hide any part of myself.
“Go on then, sir,” I invite, “Fucking do whatever you want.”
Mr Way stands.
“Frank,” he says, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t care if you do.”
He takes a few steps forward, until he’s right in front of me, looking down into my eyes and biting his lip. His eyes are cold, but scared; as if he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing this for.
“Frank,” he says softly, his voice barely audible, “You need to go now.”
And then he grabs my waist and pulls me in tight, slamming his lips into mine forcefully.
Nothing more than a second can have passed before I’m raising my own arms up around his neck and bringing him even closer to me, pressing my mouth hard against his. He sighs deeply, and I can feel him smile as our mouths mesh together, moving perfectly in sync.
He drags his tongue along my lower lip slowly, and I immediately part my lips, giving him access. He brings his hands up to my hair, tangling his fingers in the brown locks as he slips his soft tongue into my mouth, and it’s my turn to sigh heavily.
He gently pushes me backwards against the wall while our tongues fight for dominance, and he runs his hands over my cheeks and the back of my neck and down my back. I can still remember the way his hands felt six years ago; rough and unloving. I can hardly believe this is the same man; his touch is gentle and cautious.
Mr Way knows what he did to me, and he’s trying to make it better.
Finally we have to break apart, and I sigh softly. He fiddles with a bit of my hair, running it through his fingers. He puts one hand under my chin and tilts my head up so that I’m facing him. He smiles at me weakly, and he murmurs my name in a shaky breath.
I look up into those eyes that have grown so familiar, and I want him, oh god I want him.
“G-Gerard,” I breathe.
“Ignore what I said earlier,” he whispers, “I’m never letting you go.”
Then he leans down and brings our lips together once again, and it’s so perfect that I wonder why I didn’t realise from the start that he’s Gerard now, not Mr Way.
I pull Gerard closer to me, telling him silently that I’m never letting him go either; that I won’t let him fall any more.
It’s just so perfect.
And then there’s a sudden absence of lightly chapped lips upon my own, and someone yells. I open my eyes quickly, only to be met with a doctor staring at me awkwardly, while another stands some way across the room with blood running from his very obviously broken nose.
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” the doctor with the broken nose somehow manages to snap, little drops of blood falling to the floor as he speaks, “He went that way!” he points out the door and down the corridor, and the other doctor nods quickly, completely caught off guard.
“Yeah! Yeah... Right, I’m going...” he hastily leaves the room, glancing at the other doctor as he leaves.
When the door slams shut, the guy with the broken nose turns to face me.
“Kid, I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at. I’m assuming you know Mr Way?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. But he’s not Mr Way anymore.
“Well you’d better come with me then,” the doctor sighs, beckoning me to follow him, so I wander down the long hospital corridor after him.
I end up getting shut in some random room for twenty minutes with nothing to do other than fuck around with a pencil that someone left on the floor.
It breaks after I throw it at the wall too hard.
Then, finally the door opens, and a young woman wearing baggy black sweat pants and a too tight pink t-shirt comes and sits behind the desk. She smiles at me warmly, but I don’t bother smiling back. I came to the hospital to see my fucking English teacher, not to sit on my own, bored off my ass.
“So...” she says, “I guess you’d better know my name. I’m Emily, but most people just call me Em. What’s your name son?”
I don’t bother answering. No one told my why I’ve been locked up in this little room, and there’s no way I’m telling her anything about myself before I find out why she wants to know.
“What’s it to you?” I demand.
“Well, I can’t talk to you until I know your name.”
“What if I don’t want to talk to you?”
“Now son,” Em says, “It’s very important that we find out what exactly happened in that room with Mr Way. He’s done some very bad things in the past; things we need to make sure don’t happen again, but I doubt you’d know much about that, if anything at all.”
“Ha, I know a lot more than you think,” I laugh.
See; this is why I hate adults. They always assume that I’m naive to everything that goes on in the world, and that they can use that to their advantage. But believe me; I know that that wasn’t the same Gerard as the Gerard I met six years ago, so I don’t need to answer any of her stupid little questions.
“What do you mean by that?” Em asks interestedly, and I lean backwards on my seat, sneering at her.
“You honestly think I’m going to spill everything about myself to some random woman who I met five fucking minutes ago? Fuck off!”
“Now son!” she says sharply, “That’s quite enough of that language!”
“Let me go home then, and you won’t have to listen to my language!”
“I can’t do that until you tell me what exactly went on up there.”
I sigh heavily, hating this bitch with all my heart.
“Fine, you want to know what happened? I went, and I spoke to Gerard, and I apologised.”
“You apologised? What for?”
“Mind your own,” I snap. Emily is beginning to really piss me off.
And she sort of reminds me of Rita Skeeter from the Harry Potter films.
She fiddles with a strand of her bleach blonde hair and sighs.
“And what led to... You know... Gerard molesting you?”
I almost choke, I laugh so hard at her question.
“You- I- Are you serious?! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! We were kissing, he wasn’t feeling me up!”
“I can assure you, Dr Carter told me exactly what he saw when he came to check that Mr Way hadn’t tried to hang himself from the curtain rail or something, and what he saw was his patient getting far too close to a minor.”
“I’m sixteen!” I protest.
Em doesn’t care.
“And then Mr Way punched Dr Carter in the face and ran. Don’t you think he would have stayed with you if he actually cared about you?”
I narrow my eyes at her and she smirks at me.
Gerard ran, I know that, but he cares about me, I’m sure of it. There have been several opportunities for him to hurt me over the past week and a half; when he kept me behind after class; when my mom invited him over; hell, he could’ve done something during class time if he’d wanted to. But he didn’t. He tried it on that first night that I stayed after the final bell, but he stopped when I told him to. If he didn’t care about me he would have kept going.
And if he didn’t care about me he would have let me drown when I got pushed off of the bridge instead of jumping into the water and dragging me up the bank.
Gerard cares about me.
“No. I don’t think he would have stayed beside me,” I shrug, “And if he did I would tell him to run.”
Emily glares at me.
“You know it’s illegal, right? It’s illegal for a sixteen year old student to get with his twenty seven year old teacher?”
“I don’t really care, to tell you the truth,” I shrug and smile at her, just because I know it’ll piss her off.
“And it’s even worse when it’s a male student and a male teacher. Fucking faggots.”
I don’t think she means for me to hear the last part, but I just catch it, and that’s when I’m fucking done with this shit. I stand up, despite her protests, and march straight towards the door.
“Unlock the door now, or I’ll fucking kick it down,” I say and Emily raises an eyebrow at me.
“I’m not letting you go until I can get Way into a fucking jail cell,” she says calmly, and I glare at her.
“Why do you want him in jail so much?”
“Because,” she says, “That fucker raped my son.”
Did you guys expect that last line? Did ya? DID YA? .... Anyway, rate and review, I'll try and update sooner this time :3