The Secret To New York (Boyxboy)

Chapter 10-Shane's Point Of View

Okay, I've tried not to do this, because my writing sucks when I change P.O.V. but I thought that I needed to, because Shane's sort of mysterious, and this is a sneak at what he's feeling about Zander and all of this shit haha, cool enjoy

Chapter 10-Shane's Point Of View

Shane's P.O.V.

Zander hadn't show up at school yesterday. I wasn't that worried, but then again, on Friday, when he'd thrown up and told me things I'd never thought I'd hear from him, I hadn't expected for him to be okay. I don't know how upset he could get, but that was scary. And even though his hands were shaking, he told me he was alright. He was not alright. His eyes were blood-shot, his skin pale and too warm.

But, he was here today. He had on a long sleeve shirt. It buttoned down about halfway down his chest. His hair was sort of wild today. Like the first time we kissed. But, he was pale, and his hands were shaking again. I started walking towards his locker, because he didn't look like he was going to make effort in anything. When I reached his locker, he looked up at me and blushed, looking down. "I did something." He muttered, barely audible. His eyes were closed, and he was clutching at the lock on his locker "What?" I asked him. Almost reaching out to touch him. "I did something. It was wrong. I hate myself." He whispered, starting to rock back and forth. "Hey, no! Don't say that." I told him, not able to stop myself from pulling him into a hug. He stared shaking, sobs racking his tiny frame.

I pulled him into the closest open classroom. He was crying louder than before, and his fingernails were digging into my skin where he held me, but it didn't matter at the moment. "What happened?" I asked him. He pulled away and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "I fucking lost control. That's what happened. I ate everything. I'm so fat. I weighed myself on Friday after you left. I weigh 82 pounds. I thought it was good that I lost almost ten pounds in two weeks. So, I ate. And then I weighed 88 pounds, even after I puked. I took a knife from the kitchen and..." I could barely understand his words. It was so jumbled in tears and sobs. He pulled up his sleeves. I gasped at what I saw.

One large gash on each forearm. There we stiches at the ends, and huge stapes here and there. The wounds, angry red lines that were about a centimeter thick. He was still shaking. I couldn't look away from his arms. Besides the new gashes, there were scars, big, long, short, thin, thick. Words etched into his skin,

Fat.

Worthless.

Stupid.

I hadn't seen this before. Never, I didn't want to see it. Not on him. Not on anyone. I couldn't speak. I just reached out and took his hands in mine. They were cold, his fingers limp. I kept hold of one of his hands and reached up to caress his face. "No more." I told him, with a sudden boost of confidence. "I don't want to see you do this to yourself. No more." He stared at me for the longest time, and I know it wasn't the right time, but I bent down, besides my better judgments and pressed my lips to his gently. They were soft. Like I remembered.

He kissed back, and I could feel the loneliness behind the force of it. His tears merged with my tears, and I don't think I'd ever had a kiss like this before. It was desperate. It was powerful. It reminded me of my past. It reminded me of the pain. I pulled away, kissing his jaw before hugging him to me tightly. "Help me." He said. I nodded. "I will. I promise." I didn't know what else to say or do. I was torn. He needed someone. I was someone, and no matter what I acted like, I needed someone too.

***

I hadn't seen him smile all day. But, I made him smile. Just by telling him a stupid joke I heard at lunch. He'd gone to the library because he said he couldn't be around food at the moment. I understood that. We were in my car, driving to my place. "Um...were you trying to...kill yourself?" I asked, squeezing his hand. We'd barely stopped touching since this morning. I don't know what it is. I guess for me, it was the need to know he was here. Real. Sitting by me. Needing me too. "I...I don't think I was trying to die. I think I just wanted it to stop." He whispered. I turned down the road towards my apartment building. "What do you mean by "it"?" He took his hand out of mine to fix his hair, and then slid it right back, grinning at me. "Uh...I don't know. I felt guilty and I was in pain. I just sort of...thought of cutting as the next best thing. But, I guess my mom found my razor, and I got a knife, and I was hyperventilating and I cut both my wrists. My mom came out of her room because she heard my whimpering." I pulled into my parking space. He took off his seatbelt and slowly climbed out of the car. He seemed to be more aware of how frail he'd become. I was shocked he hadn't collapsed.

Once we were settled down the couch, holding hands of course, I couldn't hold it in anymore. He was damn sexy with messy hair. Also, he was biting his lips, and I found that attractive. "Uh...Zander?" I whispered. He turned his head. "Hmm?" I twisted the remote on the table with my foot. "I honestly want to fuck the living hell out of you." I told him. He nodded, replying with, "Well, isn't that unfortunate?" He was grinning, and I just couldn't handle the way he could tease me without knowing what he was doing. I moved so we were sitting closer. I kissed him. "To hell with that," I muttered against his soft lips. I pulled him even closer, running my hands down his back. I had him moaning in no time. I loved the way he moaned. I'd only heard it a select amount of times, but it was enough to get my dick hard. I started to tug him under me, but he broke our heated embrace. "I can't. I really want to, but I'm not supposed to do much because I lost a lot of blood."

He was already breathing hard and flushed and I wasn't so positive his body would be up to fucking. Not now. So, I nodded, smiling at him. "Damn. That's too bad." We sat in comfortable silence for a while. "So...today at school...I. You care. Don't you?" He seemed to be having a tough time wording his question. I nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I knew a guy like you once, so...you can kind of imagine the soft spot in my heart for you." It sounded corny, and I'd give Zander the go ahead to laugh, but he didn't look amused, "What was he like?" He asked. I shrugged. "Oh, he was lost. He hated life because he hated who he was. He got teased at school. He wasn't very tall. He wasn't willing to change, because he never knew how to change. All his life people told him he was wrong, everything about him was wrong. It was either "You're too stupid" or "You're fucking worthless", just wrong. And some days, he felt like dying. Some days, he felt hopeless. But no one let him go far enough to end it all. He was alone and miserable, He...he was me."

Zander went for my hand again, and as we laced our finger together, he sniffled. There were tears staining his cheeks, but he was smiling. "You get it." He whispered. "You really get what it's like to feel like a dumb-shit all your life." I smiled.

"I swear, if we're not careful, we might fall in love," I told him, rubbing my thumb over a scar on the back of his hand.

~whoo hooo thats the second chapter today. I'm sorry that chatpers 9 and 10 are short, but I need to get a lot of my ideas into the story before I plunge into smut, so yeah, hang in there. and thanks for reading! Vote a comment, it would help out a lot.