Wilder

8.

The stench of alcohol in the air, the group of teenagers you didn't even want to tell your kids about was hanging out behind the school.

Wilder's arm seemed skinnier, paler than before, as he brought a cigarette to his lips time and time again. Like he was taking air, it was a drug he had become so addicted to, it was strange to see him without a cancer stick in his hand.

Kierra was standing in a relaxed stance, leaning against the opposite wall, her glance intoxicated. It was becoming just like his, just like a dead person's. Glassy eyes, something you feel the need to look away from.

Maybe it's a disease.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the iciness of the strands frozen in the cold weather, and I noticed the exact moment when her glance regained its focus, a confused expression landing on her face.

And, sure enough, I saw an edge of a bloody band-aid sticking out of Wilder's sleeve. Like a flag, a mark.

Just as she was about to call out to him, to declare his disfiguration, I suddenly walked past him and dragged him off somewhere. Anywhere.

"See ya' later", I yelled over my shoulder, stepping on Wilder's cigarette as if fell from his fingers, and I breathed the chilled air.

I can't let anyone else find out, but even I realize I am selfish. The only thing that binds me and him together are the gashes in his skin.

~~~

"What is it to you?", his eyes were hostile, they were unfamiliar.

"Let me see", I ordered, pushing him back lightly when he took a step away from me.

"Fuck off, Cas", he gave me a pained look, and something let loose behind my eyes. My hand landed on his shoulder roughly, and the wall must've been freezing cold through his thin shirt when I pushed him into it.

"Why did you do it again?", my voice was strained, broken, it was in agony. It's such an irony, for me to feel all the pain, anger and guilt he's missing.

Perhaps that is our curse.

I took one of his hands and he pulled back so suddenly and in such an uncontrolled way I ended up pinning his right hand to the wall. A chill went up my wrist, Wilder's sleeve falling down to reveal even more bloody bandages. An edge of a cut too deep for my eyes sliced my view, and I cringed at the sight.

"Didn't you say you wouldn't fight me?", he raised an eyebrow, pushing his dominant hand against my chest before balling it up into a fist.

"I said I wouldn't hurt you, Wilder", a scowl of ache distorted my face, and I let out a breath of an emotion I might dare call macabre.

"Let go", he mumbled, and the strength in his hand grew, a sudden yank getting him free of my reign. Wilder stepped away, and my eyelids fluttered before I reached out and pulled him back. I shoved him into the wall, catching both his wrists and holding them against the hard surface, the cold brushing against my skin and bleeding into my flesh.

"Why are you trying so hard to help me?", his arms weren't relaxed, but he wasn't fighting back, his voice tired.

I observed his raw features up close. His straight nose, skin as white as snow, eyes the color of a storm. He appeared so precious. I held his wrists tightly, but I wanted to kiss his lips the color of pale till they were red. To bite the soft skin, watch the blood drip down his chin.

"Because I care!", I screamed in his face, my hand shaking on his wrists. Wilder's eyes looked unfazed, blank, dead.

"I care", my breath was hot on his skin, flaming, "I care, even if I am the only one in the world. Even if your mother doesn't, I do"

Wilder's eyes widened under my glance, losing their cool and appearing shocked before they shattered.

"I'm here, and I care. Even if it means bandaging up your cuts, or holding you back when you want to hurt yourself"

I frowned at his lips slightly parted, his eyes holding the expression of a lamb I had never seen before. I fall more intoxicated the more I learn of him. The way he breathes, the pulse of his heart, and the way he glances at the mirror in the morning. Everything.

His arms tightened in my grip, fists forming and his fingers shaking. And I think: Maybe if I hold on tightly enough, I can keep all of his pieces in my hands.

"Please, Wilder, let me help"