Broken (Timids)

Not Hungry

Drews PoV
Just as suspected, my arms ached when I woke up the next morning, next to Shane. We were still locked in each other's arm and luckily, I hadn't woke either of us up again during the long, painful night. Shane needed his sleep right now and admittedly, so did I. It was one of the only times that I could fully escape my self-loathing thoughts, that told me how much I needed to hurt myself for what I had done.

I hesitantly pulled back the covers from my shivering form and began to make my way into the kitchen, trying to tred carefully so I wouldn't wake my timid. I shivered as my bare feet hit the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, filling me with chilling cold. I missed Shane's warm embrace so much but instead of returning to his side like I longed so desperately to, I just reached for his jacket on the back of the door, knowing that he wouldn't mind me borrowing it. I slipped it gently over my shoulders, snuggling into the thick fleecy material. It was only early so the others weren't awake yet, meaning I would have nobody's company for comfort for hours on end. I never managed to sleep in for too long, though I wish I could. Things would just be so much simpler that way, not just for me, but for everyone around me. None of my friends would have to worry about me that way.

I decided that seeing as I was up and had nothing better to do with my time, I would make breakfast for the others, just to say thanks for everything that they had done for me, even though they rarely received anything in return. They did take me in after all once they could, even though I had no job or no money, and therefore no way to help them out with the high bills and rent. They never complained once about that and they would always shush me if I tried to apologise for the burden I put upon them, insisting that they didn't mind at all so long as I was with them, where I supposedly belonged. These guys were the closest thing I had to love in this cold, harsh world and I tried hard to help them as much around the flat as possible, even though Laurence insisted I studied for my exams instead. They all thought I was special and had the potential to do well in school, if I applied myself and did the right amount of revision of course, though personally, I saw my academic achievements as average, at best. Kier always called me 'boy genius' before ruffling my carefully styled hair into a huge mess.

I started cracking the eggs for the fried egg sandwiches, getting them all two each out as I knew how hungry they could be first thing in a morning. As for me, I wasn't hungry, I never was. I hated the way I looked and I tried to avoid eating fatty food as much as possible, not wanting to add my weight to the list of things I was self conscious about. The list was already too long for my liking.

However, every so often, one of the guys would get highly suspicious as to why I wasn't eating my food when it was placed in front of me, and so I would start eating again for a few weeks until they stopped watching me, convinced that I was fine and that they didn't need to worry about my problem anymore. I wasn't fine, but they didn't need to know that. They didn't need to know about the cutting, the scratching, the deep, raging hatred of myself, the blame for my parents death, any of that. They would try talk me out of it, try to convince me I was perfect exactly as I was and I didn't need to do this stuff to find pleasure or to comfort myself . But they would be lying to me.

Shane's PoV
I woke up to the savoury smell of frying eggs and the space on the bed next to me empty. I rolled lazily onto Drew's side to find it was still rather warm, signalising he had only recently got up and left the comfort of my arms. It was probably him who was making breakfast for us all right now, like he always did when he was the first one in the flat awake. He always tried so hard to be helpful around the flat, feeling bad because he had nothing to offer us towards the house, or the high bills that came with living in such a well known area, like London. It's as though he didn't feel worthy to be in our house, and felt like he had to prove himself to the rest of us on a daily basis. He was more than worthy in our eyes, and he always had been. He was so kind and sweet and undeniably timid. He had been put through far too much shit in his dreary life but he was still fighting, despite everything. Just knowing that he was still here and still smiling made my heart swell with pride.