The Delivery Boy(boyxboy)

Chapter 9: Comfortable Silences and Bruised Knuckles.

                 

A/N: THIS IS THE RE WRITTEN VERSION OF CHAPTER 9. I DELETED THE PREVIOUS VERSION AND POSTED THIS, SO IF YOU WISH TO CONTINUE WITH THE STORY, PLEASE READ THIS. IT IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE PREVIOUS VERSION OF CHAPTER 9. I SINCERELY APLOGISE FOR THIS.

I'm just a normal boy
That sank when I fell overboard
My ship would leave the country
But I'd rather swim ashore
Without a life that's sadly stuck again
Wish I was much more masculine
Maybe then I could learn to swim
Like (fourteen miles away)

Now floating up and down
I spin, colliding into sound
Like whales beneath me diving down
I'm sinking to the bottom of my
Everything that freaks me out
The lighthouse beam has just run out
I'm cold as cold as cold can be
Be

I want to swim away but don't know how
Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean
Let the waves up and take me down
Let the hurricane set in motion
Let the rain of what I feel right now come down
Let the rain come down

-

Axel

"Jamie! Can you hear me? God dammit Jameson, answer me!" I roared as my hands attacked his chest, my fingers interlocked as they pushed down on the place where his heart was supposed to be – a place from which I could hear no beat, no pulse, and no sign that he was going to wake up and flash me that same old dimpled smile of his that I never bothered to appreciate.

There was an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach- a turmoil of despair which threatened to eat me alive. It was the same feeling I got when I was swimming, and I wanted to put my feet down on something- but the water was deeper than I thought and there was nothing there.

My shouts became louder and louder until they blurred somewhere in the background, and my heart sped up so rapidly, I could positively feel it move through the denim of my shirt, like waves rippling in an ocean. There was a strain in my arms from all the pressure I had been putting on them – or maybe that was just the bittersweet ache of panic, a horrid combination of extreme fear and wretched hope.

My vision became tunneled as I pressed my lips to his, and breathed, breathed, breathed – breathed so hard, I was sure that the life was going to be sucked out of me.

I repeated the process. I could people around me yelling for help; some were shouting, some were hyperventilating, and some were staring blankly as the scene unfolded before them, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to help, unsure of how to save someone's life. I could see it all through my treacherous peripheral view, and it was driving me to the point of hysteria – which was panic, but with the gut wrenching view, and the horrid sound.

I repeated the process again. I felt my lungs burn as I breathed hard, trying to speed up the movements of my hands. I felt like I was moving underwater, as if all my movements were gradually slowing down and I was trying to push forward, but something kept pushing me backward.

He gasped. It was a quiet, sharp intake of breath, but it was enough; enough of a sign that he was still alive, enough of a sign to tell me that I hadn't messed up as badly as I thought. The relief which flooded through me was so immense, I felt my knees buckle and my eyes sear with small tears.

"Jamie? Can you hear me?" His eyes had flown open, but they were solely focused on the ceiling, like his soul was still adjusting to being back in his body, "Jameson?"