Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Grow Up Too Fast
I'm just gonna say it; I love this one. It was awesome to write, and I had an awesome time with it. Just so you know, none of the boys are in it. After all, they are one-shots from Charley's life, so not all of them have the boys. It does, however, include some one else special to her. Just read....
“Charley, just tell me what the fuck is wrong!” Zander says in an exasperated tone.
“No, Zander, I can’t,” I sigh, pulling my sleeves lower down. His eyes are drawn to the movement, and he squints down. His eyebrows come together, and I know I’ve blown my cover. Whatever cover I had to begin with that is.
“Charley,” He says, in a soft, pleading voice. “Please tell me you aren’t hurting yourself.”
“I’m not hurting myself.” I say snappishly, shoving my hands into my deep pockets.
Zander’s eyes meet mine, and the irritation evaporates. He whispers, “Please say that again and mean it.”
I can’t lie to those eyes. I can’t speak. And above all, I can’t cry when I’m looking in his eyes. So I turn and jet down the hallway, as fast as I possibly can. I don’t really know where I’m going, but there’s less and less people anyhow, so I figure I’m gonna be late for something. I can’t even remember what class I have. Not that it matters. I have no intention of attending whatever my next class is. I can’t deal with school right now.
As I run through the hall, I begin to scout potential places to go, where no one will see me, and I’ll be free to cry. And…do whatever else I need to do. Unfortunately, our school is very open, and the few janitor closets and other places like that are locked. And I don’t have a key, though I intend on getting one. This leaves me with nowhere but the bathroom.
I go in, checking under the stalls for feet, but finding none. Still, upon entering, I go to the last stall, not bothering to lock the door behind me. I go in the corner, leaning back against the wall and allowing myself to slide towards the floor.
I pull my knees against my chest, sobbing emptily. I don’t know what to do. I just feel all wrong, and I don’t have anyone to talk to. I can’t talk to Dad; I don’t want to scare him, or worry him. I can’t talk to Frankie or Mikey or Ray or Bob, because…well…I just can’t. I can’t tell them about this. Because I don’t even know what it is. I just know something’s not right.
I don’t know why I decided to cut myself. I just did it. And I don’t stop. It helps, somehow. Like, I can control something. I can cause myself pain, and know why it hurts. I can know why it feels wrong.
I slide the razor I was keeping in my pocket out. My hands are shaking, and I take a moment to steady them, breathing deeply. Then I pull my sleeves up, sliding the razor across the skin or my wrist. Immediately, the blood starts to flow, dripping down my arm. It’s warm. I let it flow, not bothering to get anything to stop the bleeding. This is the point, after all.
Suddenly, there’s footsteps in the bathroom. Heavier, at different intervals than girls usually walk at. I can see black high tops traveling past the stalls. The have drawings all over them; intricate patterns. I could tell you every pattern. Because I drew them. For a certain person, because he asked me to.
Zander walks quickly, coming directly to the stall I’m in, and flinging the door back. Still startled, I cover my wrist quickly with my other hand. It doesn’t matter though; the blood drips through my fingers, falling onto the floor. I look up at Zander’s face, and his eyes widen.
“Holy shit, what are you doing to yourself?” Zander yelps, dropping down onto his knees next to me.
“I’m fine.” I say, but I wince. I’m gripping my wrist too tight, and it’s hurting more than it’s supposed to.
“No, let me see,” Zander says, grabbing at my wrist and trying to pull my hand away.
“You don’t want to see that.” I say roughly.
“Yeah, I do.” Zander says, looking me in the eye. Then he grabs my hand, and pulls it off gently. There’s no resistance from me now.
“Shit.” Zander says, holding my blood covered arm in his big, pale hands. “What are you doing to yourself?” I see his eyes following the trails the blood left, and then following the scars that go farther up my arms.
“I told you you didn’t want to see.” I say, pulling my arm away.
“I wanted to see. That doesn’t mean I want you to do this to yourself.” Zander says quietly, still holding my other hand. The blood is transferring to his hands now.
I feel heat rising to my face, and tears begin to drip from my eyes. They slip down my cheeks. Zander looks mortified, and I cry harder. I expect him to leave me, because he looks so confused; out of his element. He should be. He’s never had to deal with me when I haven’t been in control of myself, to the point that most people see my false confidence as cockiness. It’s given me a negative reputation, but I don’t care about that anyway. If the people are worth it, they’ll like me regardless of how I come across. If they don’t, then they probably aren’t the kind of people that I would want to be with anyway.
I put my head down on my knees, sobbing softly. At any moment, I wait for Zander’s hand to leave mine, and for him to leave me here. I wouldn’t blame him for it. I don’t know what to do; why should he?
I hear motion, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against itself, and I know he’s leaving now. Instead though, I feel arms, his of course, pulling me into him. Before I know what’s happened, I’m curled against him, my head on his chest as I continue to cry. I feel his face in my hair, his nose skimming back and forth along the top of my head. I wish I could see his face at this moment, but I can’t stop crying.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Zander pleads again, in his soft, gentle tone that I wish I could hear every waking moment.
“I don’t know,” I moan, and it’s muffled by his chest. “I don’t know, it just is.”
“Is it because I kissed Ashley Vanderbuilt?”
“No. No, no it’s not.” I say. Is it? Partially. That was what kicked all of this off; the betrayal of my best friend kissing someone I hate, leaving me to get wasted on my own. Then the issue of his apologies, and my realization that I’d already forgiven him the moment I saw him kiss her. The realization that I care too much. And that he doesn’t care enough. Not being able to talk to anyone, not having anyone but him, and my five dads. What’s wrong with me that those are the only people that I have? It’s all been pressuring me, dragging me down. I can’t swim back up from this alone. I can only drown.
“What is it?” Zander continues, his hand rubbing my back softly. If he knew what that was doing to me; how much it hurt that he had no other intentions.
“I don’t know.” I say, trying to slow my tears.
“You know more than you’re saying,” Zander says; not in an accusatory fashion, just a simple statement. He knows it’s true, more than I do.
“I can’t explain.” I whisper. I’m surprised he can even hear me.
“Try,” he urges me gently.
“I can’t handle this.” I breathe, barely speaking the words.
“What?” He says, almost desperate to help me. “I can’t hear you.”
“I can’t handle this,” I say, a little bit louder this time.
“What can’t you handle Charley?” He says, leaning back so he can see my face.
“Everything. I’m confused. I don’t know what to do. About anything.”
“Did you talk to your Dad?” Zander knows how close I am with my father.
I shake my head, as one more tear slides down my nose. “ I don’t want him to worry about me.”
“Charley, no offense, but you aren’t the best at hiding this. He’s probably feeling the same as I am.”
My chest tightens. He sees himself similar to my dad. Another blow. “How are you feeling?”
“Worried out of my mind. And scared.”
“Why?” I’m almost daring him, to answer me honestly, to push my down again, whether he knows he’s doing it or not.
“Because I don’t want to lose you Charley!” He says, his eyebrows coming together. “I fucking…” he exhales quickly.
“What were you gonna say?” I ask him desperately.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does, now tell me.” It sounds more like my normal self that way.
“I fucking love you, alright! That’s what I was gonna say.” He throws his bloody hands up into the air. He shuts his eyes and leans back. “God why did I tell you.” I hear him mumble.
“You love me?” I question, not daring to believe him.
“Yes. I do. And I know you don’t love me like that, so I don’t know what difference it makes.” He says, sounding almost bitter.
And then tears are sliding down my cheeks again, the only way I can accurate express my feelings.
“Why are you crying again?” Zander says, sitting up and wiping away my tears with his thumb. He moves to pull his hand back, but I grab it and hold it to my face.
“Because you’re so wrong.”
“I know I’m wrong for you.” He says, staring at the floor.
“No. No you’re not. You’re wrong about me not loving you.” I say, not sobbing anymore, just crying silently. Zander gapes.
“I am?” He asks.
I nod. “Do you really love me?” I whisper, hope building inside.
“Yes. I always have. Since the second grade.” He says sincerely.
“That changes things.” I say. And it does. Everything isn’t so confusing. If I have him, and he wants me, that’s it. That’s everything.
“Wait, this was because of me?” He says, sounding horrified.
“No, no it wasn’t-“
“Yes it was. Oh my god, this is my fucking fault!” His eyes are wide, and he looks so beautiful.
“No, it’s not. It’s mine, I was confused. But I’m not now. I’m fine now.”
Zander still looks upset with himself. But he seems to push that aside to get to something more important. “We love each other. Really, love each other?”
“Yeah.” I’m still holding his hand against my face.
“Good,” Zander says. “Because I’ve been waiting a long time.”
And he puts his other arm around me, keeping his hand on my cheek. His lips crush gently against mine, molding themselves to me. I move my hand to his hair, twisting it into my fingers and pulling him closer. I can feel his breathing becoming more and more uneven, and I’m sure mine is too. I slide my hand down his shoulder, feeling the muscles in his arms tense when I touch him. My back arches as he trails his fingers down it, making me come closer to him.
After a minute, we break apart, both gasping. He grins, leaning his forehead against mine.
“I’m not confused anymore.” I say to him. And he smiles and kisses me again.
Did you like it? I hope you did. Has your opinion of Zander changed? Let me know!! Rate and review!!! (Rate first :-)
“Charley, just tell me what the fuck is wrong!” Zander says in an exasperated tone.
“No, Zander, I can’t,” I sigh, pulling my sleeves lower down. His eyes are drawn to the movement, and he squints down. His eyebrows come together, and I know I’ve blown my cover. Whatever cover I had to begin with that is.
“Charley,” He says, in a soft, pleading voice. “Please tell me you aren’t hurting yourself.”
“I’m not hurting myself.” I say snappishly, shoving my hands into my deep pockets.
Zander’s eyes meet mine, and the irritation evaporates. He whispers, “Please say that again and mean it.”
I can’t lie to those eyes. I can’t speak. And above all, I can’t cry when I’m looking in his eyes. So I turn and jet down the hallway, as fast as I possibly can. I don’t really know where I’m going, but there’s less and less people anyhow, so I figure I’m gonna be late for something. I can’t even remember what class I have. Not that it matters. I have no intention of attending whatever my next class is. I can’t deal with school right now.
As I run through the hall, I begin to scout potential places to go, where no one will see me, and I’ll be free to cry. And…do whatever else I need to do. Unfortunately, our school is very open, and the few janitor closets and other places like that are locked. And I don’t have a key, though I intend on getting one. This leaves me with nowhere but the bathroom.
I go in, checking under the stalls for feet, but finding none. Still, upon entering, I go to the last stall, not bothering to lock the door behind me. I go in the corner, leaning back against the wall and allowing myself to slide towards the floor.
I pull my knees against my chest, sobbing emptily. I don’t know what to do. I just feel all wrong, and I don’t have anyone to talk to. I can’t talk to Dad; I don’t want to scare him, or worry him. I can’t talk to Frankie or Mikey or Ray or Bob, because…well…I just can’t. I can’t tell them about this. Because I don’t even know what it is. I just know something’s not right.
I don’t know why I decided to cut myself. I just did it. And I don’t stop. It helps, somehow. Like, I can control something. I can cause myself pain, and know why it hurts. I can know why it feels wrong.
I slide the razor I was keeping in my pocket out. My hands are shaking, and I take a moment to steady them, breathing deeply. Then I pull my sleeves up, sliding the razor across the skin or my wrist. Immediately, the blood starts to flow, dripping down my arm. It’s warm. I let it flow, not bothering to get anything to stop the bleeding. This is the point, after all.
Suddenly, there’s footsteps in the bathroom. Heavier, at different intervals than girls usually walk at. I can see black high tops traveling past the stalls. The have drawings all over them; intricate patterns. I could tell you every pattern. Because I drew them. For a certain person, because he asked me to.
Zander walks quickly, coming directly to the stall I’m in, and flinging the door back. Still startled, I cover my wrist quickly with my other hand. It doesn’t matter though; the blood drips through my fingers, falling onto the floor. I look up at Zander’s face, and his eyes widen.
“Holy shit, what are you doing to yourself?” Zander yelps, dropping down onto his knees next to me.
“I’m fine.” I say, but I wince. I’m gripping my wrist too tight, and it’s hurting more than it’s supposed to.
“No, let me see,” Zander says, grabbing at my wrist and trying to pull my hand away.
“You don’t want to see that.” I say roughly.
“Yeah, I do.” Zander says, looking me in the eye. Then he grabs my hand, and pulls it off gently. There’s no resistance from me now.
“Shit.” Zander says, holding my blood covered arm in his big, pale hands. “What are you doing to yourself?” I see his eyes following the trails the blood left, and then following the scars that go farther up my arms.
“I told you you didn’t want to see.” I say, pulling my arm away.
“I wanted to see. That doesn’t mean I want you to do this to yourself.” Zander says quietly, still holding my other hand. The blood is transferring to his hands now.
I feel heat rising to my face, and tears begin to drip from my eyes. They slip down my cheeks. Zander looks mortified, and I cry harder. I expect him to leave me, because he looks so confused; out of his element. He should be. He’s never had to deal with me when I haven’t been in control of myself, to the point that most people see my false confidence as cockiness. It’s given me a negative reputation, but I don’t care about that anyway. If the people are worth it, they’ll like me regardless of how I come across. If they don’t, then they probably aren’t the kind of people that I would want to be with anyway.
I put my head down on my knees, sobbing softly. At any moment, I wait for Zander’s hand to leave mine, and for him to leave me here. I wouldn’t blame him for it. I don’t know what to do; why should he?
I hear motion, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against itself, and I know he’s leaving now. Instead though, I feel arms, his of course, pulling me into him. Before I know what’s happened, I’m curled against him, my head on his chest as I continue to cry. I feel his face in my hair, his nose skimming back and forth along the top of my head. I wish I could see his face at this moment, but I can’t stop crying.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” Zander pleads again, in his soft, gentle tone that I wish I could hear every waking moment.
“I don’t know,” I moan, and it’s muffled by his chest. “I don’t know, it just is.”
“Is it because I kissed Ashley Vanderbuilt?”
“No. No, no it’s not.” I say. Is it? Partially. That was what kicked all of this off; the betrayal of my best friend kissing someone I hate, leaving me to get wasted on my own. Then the issue of his apologies, and my realization that I’d already forgiven him the moment I saw him kiss her. The realization that I care too much. And that he doesn’t care enough. Not being able to talk to anyone, not having anyone but him, and my five dads. What’s wrong with me that those are the only people that I have? It’s all been pressuring me, dragging me down. I can’t swim back up from this alone. I can only drown.
“What is it?” Zander continues, his hand rubbing my back softly. If he knew what that was doing to me; how much it hurt that he had no other intentions.
“I don’t know.” I say, trying to slow my tears.
“You know more than you’re saying,” Zander says; not in an accusatory fashion, just a simple statement. He knows it’s true, more than I do.
“I can’t explain.” I whisper. I’m surprised he can even hear me.
“Try,” he urges me gently.
“I can’t handle this.” I breathe, barely speaking the words.
“What?” He says, almost desperate to help me. “I can’t hear you.”
“I can’t handle this,” I say, a little bit louder this time.
“What can’t you handle Charley?” He says, leaning back so he can see my face.
“Everything. I’m confused. I don’t know what to do. About anything.”
“Did you talk to your Dad?” Zander knows how close I am with my father.
I shake my head, as one more tear slides down my nose. “ I don’t want him to worry about me.”
“Charley, no offense, but you aren’t the best at hiding this. He’s probably feeling the same as I am.”
My chest tightens. He sees himself similar to my dad. Another blow. “How are you feeling?”
“Worried out of my mind. And scared.”
“Why?” I’m almost daring him, to answer me honestly, to push my down again, whether he knows he’s doing it or not.
“Because I don’t want to lose you Charley!” He says, his eyebrows coming together. “I fucking…” he exhales quickly.
“What were you gonna say?” I ask him desperately.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does, now tell me.” It sounds more like my normal self that way.
“I fucking love you, alright! That’s what I was gonna say.” He throws his bloody hands up into the air. He shuts his eyes and leans back. “God why did I tell you.” I hear him mumble.
“You love me?” I question, not daring to believe him.
“Yes. I do. And I know you don’t love me like that, so I don’t know what difference it makes.” He says, sounding almost bitter.
And then tears are sliding down my cheeks again, the only way I can accurate express my feelings.
“Why are you crying again?” Zander says, sitting up and wiping away my tears with his thumb. He moves to pull his hand back, but I grab it and hold it to my face.
“Because you’re so wrong.”
“I know I’m wrong for you.” He says, staring at the floor.
“No. No you’re not. You’re wrong about me not loving you.” I say, not sobbing anymore, just crying silently. Zander gapes.
“I am?” He asks.
I nod. “Do you really love me?” I whisper, hope building inside.
“Yes. I always have. Since the second grade.” He says sincerely.
“That changes things.” I say. And it does. Everything isn’t so confusing. If I have him, and he wants me, that’s it. That’s everything.
“Wait, this was because of me?” He says, sounding horrified.
“No, no it wasn’t-“
“Yes it was. Oh my god, this is my fucking fault!” His eyes are wide, and he looks so beautiful.
“No, it’s not. It’s mine, I was confused. But I’m not now. I’m fine now.”
Zander still looks upset with himself. But he seems to push that aside to get to something more important. “We love each other. Really, love each other?”
“Yeah.” I’m still holding his hand against my face.
“Good,” Zander says. “Because I’ve been waiting a long time.”
And he puts his other arm around me, keeping his hand on my cheek. His lips crush gently against mine, molding themselves to me. I move my hand to his hair, twisting it into my fingers and pulling him closer. I can feel his breathing becoming more and more uneven, and I’m sure mine is too. I slide my hand down his shoulder, feeling the muscles in his arms tense when I touch him. My back arches as he trails his fingers down it, making me come closer to him.
After a minute, we break apart, both gasping. He grins, leaning his forehead against mine.
“I’m not confused anymore.” I say to him. And he smiles and kisses me again.
Did you like it? I hope you did. Has your opinion of Zander changed? Let me know!! Rate and review!!! (Rate first :-)
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