Frank finds Gerard doing something in the bathroom...
I have a lie-in knowing that I don’t have to go to school but there’s a lot of arguing coming from outside my door. The arguing stopped and my mom came into my room.
“Gerard’s made himself sick.” She says quickly.
“What?” I sit up so quickly that I get a head-rush and go all dizzy.
“He’s staying home from school.”
“Why?” I ask.
“He wants to. Plus he kept threatening to make himself sick again.” And that was it. She walked out. Why did he do that? He wants to stay home from school? Why? What the hell is he doing? About ten minutes later I could hear retching coming from the bathroom. I hastily get up, collecting a crutch and hobbling to the bathroom as silently as I can. The door of the bathroom is shut.The retching sound has stopped and now there’s a heavy breathing. I just stood out there, listening. Suddenly there was a clatter of something metal against tiles. I hit the door with my crutch, letting it swing open to see what he’s doing. I see his face for only a brief second; he pushed himself onto the door, shutting it again. The pure horror, annoyance and even sadness that was plastered on his face made my chest hurt. What the hell is he doing? And what was the pain in my chest?
“Gerard?” I say, leaning on the door, listening to the heavy breathing coming from the other side.
“I thought you’d be asleep.” He sniffles. Is he…crying?
“What were you doing?”
“Nothing.” I hear it again, the clatter of metal on tiles. “Shit…” He mumbles.
“What was that?! Gerard? What’s going on?” I don’t give him time to answer, he’s picking up whatever he dropped onto the ceramic tiles and the pressure on the door is released, I hit my shoulder onto the door, it swinging open. I lose control and squeeze my eyes shut; I fall right into his arms, just like yesterday. I hear his gasp but he’s holding me to his body.
“Don’t open your eyes. Please.” He is crying. I can hear him sobbing.
“O-okay.” I say, not knowing what else to do.
“P-promise?” He slumps onto the floor, I’m still in his arms but he’s adjusted so my legs are around him and I’m basically on his lap, my hand falls into some thick liquid. I nod into his chest.
“And you still hate me don’t you?” He asks. No. I don’t.
“What’s on my hand?” I hold it up, the liquid pouring off it. I hear him suck in a breath.
“Liar.” I say sharply and he says nothing back. I have to see. I have to open my eyes. I’m about to when I hear him speak,
“Please, Frankie.” Did he just call me Frankie? “Don’t open your eyes.” He sounds even more upset.
“Why, Gee?” I say, since we’re giving each other nicknames. He says nothing for a second.
“Because I don’t want to scare you.”
“You’re scary anyway.” I chuckle lightly. I move my head off his chest, my eyes still closed and I grab his arm which was covered in the same sticky liquid as on the floor, he quickly pulls his arm away.
“No, Frankie.” He sighs heavily. “Just, don’t move.” I don’t move. I can now feel his hands on either side of my head, slightly running his fingers through my hair, I can feel his breath on my face as he leans his forehead on mine, his breath smelt of sick but it didn’t bother me. I wanted to know what was happening. There was a silence for a long time; I think I even fell asleep for a few minutes. Gerard grabbed my hand, his forehead still on mine. He was going to ask me something, I knew it. But I beat him to it.
“Gee, my mom told me that…you made yourself sick…Can I ask why?” I honestly didn’t want to ask the question, but I had to. I knew that Gerard was hurting himself; he seemed like the sort of depressive person, y’know, someone like me.
I’ve been clean for a while now, about two months. I’ve been keeping myself from walking into this very bathroom and pulling out my blades; the ones I keep hidden behind the mirror, no-one knows that there’s a ledge behind there but me.
“I did it because…I…I don’t know why…” Is he bulimic? I noticed Gerard was skinny but he had a broad stature. But now I realise he’s been layering. I let my hand fumble at the hem of his shirt – or shirts and slip my hand under one, then another and another until I count eight in total. I reluctantly move my hand under the last one, my hand on his hip. It’s so bony. It’s just skin and bone. I hear him exhale as I move my hand around to his back, pulling his body closer to me, moving his forehead from mine and letting him bury his face in my neck. I can feel his spine protruding from his back, threatening to snap; well that’s what it felt like. I pull the shirts over his head, my eyes are still closed but if I’m honest, I’m not sure if I want to see this. I throw the shirts to the side; they probably landed in the bathtub though I’m not sure. I move my hands to his sides, moving my fingers along his ribcage which was covered in only a layer of skin. My hands take themselves to his shoulder blades. They’re sharp and bulging from his back.
“You’re too skinny.” I whisper into his hair.
“I’m too fat,” Was his reply. I pinch him. Hard. “Ow.”
“You’re not fat, Gee.” I wrap my arms around his waist. “You’re skinnier than me. I’m fat. Not you.” He lifted his head off my shoulder and his hands were wrapped loosely around my neck and placed his forehead on mine again.
“Frankie, if you’re fat then I’m a whale.”
“No, Gee.” I say but he unzips my hoodie quickly. I let him pull my jacket off my shoulders and lift my shirt over my head. I hear his breath hitch. He’s seen them. The scars on my arms and my stomach. He says nothing but I know he’s staring. “Can I…open my eyes, Gee?”
“No.” he whispers but then there’s a short silence. “Fine. But please, don’t run.” He says, his hands lightly stroking the scars on my stomach. I nod. I slowly open my eyes, looking directly into his, analysing them. He looks emotionless apart from his slightly widened eyes yet I can see so much pain. My eyes travel to his bony torso. No. That’s far too skinny. I gently pinch at the skin on his stomach.
“It’s all skin. No muscle, no fat. Nothing.” I rest a hand on his bare chest. He shakes his head.
“Have you seen yourself?” He says. I don’t say anything, that’s when my eyes travel to the floor. Blood. Blood everywhere. Then I look at his arms. Lacerations laced all the way up to his shoulders. I was about to speak. But he beat me to it. “If you’re thinking of saying anything, I’d think again. Because whatever I’ve done you’ve done too.” I move my hand from his chest. He was right, I can’t criticize him. Blood was seeping through some cuts on his arms. I don’t hate Gerard. I care about him. But he didn’t know that. I may have only known him for about a week but in that week, so much has happened. I look up at him, his eyes filled with tears. “Don’t cry.” He says to me. I’m crying? He wipes a thumb across my cheek, brushing away a tear. Turns out I am. “You didn’t run.” He says, a smile pinching at his lips.
“Why would I run?” I whispered.
“Everyone else did. My dad goes on holiday a lot and he asks his friends if me and Mikey can stay over at theirs while they’re away but someone always finds me and…runs like they’re scared of me. Like I’m some monster that’s going to eat them alive.” More tears rolled down his cheeks I wipe them away and leave my hands at his shoulders.
“I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me. Myself. And I know that’s how you feel too.” My ears spilled onto my chest, running down my neck from looking up at him. He nods. We understand each other, what it’s like to be hated and not loved. What it’s like to be alone, to feel like the world hates you. I now share that feeling with a boy I’ve known for six days. I care about him. He thinks I hate him, well that’s because I did hate him, but that’s all changed. And all too quickly for my liking.
“Please don’t…Don’t tell anyone about…this.”
“You won’t?” He says, almost as if he’s shocked. I lean my head on his chest.
“I promise.” He moves his hands and they’re now at my waist. There’s another long silence. I listened to the beat of his heart and his unsteady breathing pattern, inhaling his scent; coffee, peppermint, tobacco and blood. The smell of sick has faded almost completely. He finally speaks,
“Thank you.” I pull away and look at him, a confused look plastered to my face.
“For what?” I ask.
“For putting up with me this week. I’ve been nothing but a complete ass to you.”
“Actually…” I say, remembering the other day. “You helped me with my foot and lip…”
“That doesn’t count.” A look of sadness waves across his face.
“Because I ended up kissing you then telling you to forget it and go back to hating me. That sounds like something a complete ass would do.”
“But I didn’t.”
“I didn’t forget it and go back to hating you.” His lips part slightly and he breathes deeply, a smile spread across his face. He moved his hand to the back of my neck and closed his eyes, pulling my forehead to his and closing his eyes.
“Me either. I was surprised you kissed me back. I though you would’ve freaked out and hit me.”
“I wouldn’t hit you. You’d hit back.” I whisper. We both chuckle lightly but he sighs and his face goes back so serious, opening his eyes.
“But, you know, Frank. Even if we wanted…We couldn’t be…y’know…together…” He gives me a sympathetic look.
“Because…It’s not anything to do with you. I just have to sort out what’s going through my head and what I’m feeling about…certain things…” He squirms uncomfortably and averts his eyes. I put my hands either side of his head, our noses touching slightly.
“I understand.” He looks back at me.
“You do?” He asks, a small amount of hope in his voice. I nod and smile. Without even thinking, I bring my body forward, pulling him toward me, meshing our lips together. It felt…really good. He goes rigid for a second but he melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around my waist completely as I wrap mine around his neck, pressing against him. I slide my tongue along his bottom lip. But he pulls away quickly, holding me at arm’s length, looking anywhere but at me. His cheeks are red and lips are swollen from the intensity of the kiss.
“Sorry.” I say. He looks at me and smiles.
“Don’t be.” He exhales deeply. “It was just a bit…unexpected.” His hair has fallen in his eyes. I run a hand through it, moving it out of his face. It’s so soft. I give him a faint smile and I lean on his chest, closing my eyes. His hand running up and down my back, my breathing slowed as I fell in the depth of sleep.
TAH DAH. I know it's really bad but DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CARE? Well....I do care. I hope it's okay. It's SO LONG. ._. Any suggestions for the next chapter would be helpful :3