Patrick ate while I sat at the counter and tried not to make him uncomfortable by watching. Maybe it wouldn't have bothered him, but it bothered me so I decided to stare at the counter. I glanced up and couldn't help but notice the way he shoveled food into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in days, and he probably hasn't, so I ignored it and looked back at the counter. After he was finished eating, we left for school. I still had no idea what our plan was, as far as excuses for his parents went, but I was just glad he had a safe place last night.
-----
I felt a little more sane walking into school accompanied by him. The stares were still there of course, but I was more focused on making conversation with him. Formalities like where is your class, and what should we tell your abusive, pedophile parents about your whereabouts the evening before this one. Neither one of us had a good answer for that one, but Patrick swore it would be okay. His mood towards his parents seemed to have changed since the fear evident in his eyes last night.
When we finally had to part and go to our classes all I did was think about him. I couldn't do anything else, no matter how hard I tried. Particularly, I thought about the moment he laid his head on my shoulder. The contact made my heart jump into my throat, and at the time I was convinced it was disgust or maybe even just surprise, but the more I sat and thought about it, the warmer it made me feel, and I was beginning to think there may be just a slim chance this small boy who was no one to quite a few was giving me butterflies.
We had no classes together, which felt a little strange since the school didn't have a very broad variety of classes to choose from, nor did it have a large population. I sat on the bus and waited for him after school, but he didn't show up, so I leaned back against my seat and fought the feeling of disappointment. Why should I care?
When we passed his house I glanced at it, but I didn't see anything that looked like anyone was home. I never did. To say it was disheartening was an understatement now. As pathetic as I sounded, I actually felt a sort of remorse not siting next to him, and I laughed at it. Maybe I'm as desperate as my mother, and now I was sure it was disgust I felt. I'm not going to make myself some sick whore chasing after someone who was here one minute and gone the next. He didn't even send a text, and I'm not about to send one either. The worry I had for him was replaced by anger. It sat burning and throbbing in my chest, and it felt a lot like the night my dad told me he wasn't going to come back home.
-----
When I got home I didn't bother going on a walk. I was too afraid to be left alone with my thoughts, so instead I threw myself on my bed and I cried for the first time in a very long time. I hated crying. It made me feel like the gullible child I was. It ruined the infrastructure I worked so hard on, and my eyeliner. The pathetic sound filled my bedroom. I suppose it was better to have what I was thinking blocked out.
-----
I sat on my bed pressed into a corner with my knees drawn to my chest and my arms locked around them. It's been awhile since I've felt like this, and I wasn't used to the spiraling anymore. I leaned my head back against the wall staring at my blank phone screen where it laid at the other end of my bed. I was beginning to feel sick, like I was stuck in my nightmare. The anger still swirled around in my head, but I had much more self pity to take up the empty space. I always do. It felt good to feel again, even if it was the worst feeling in the world. I love him for hurting me, although he didn't, but I would rather be able to sit here and hate him for smiling at me the way he does, like I saved him.
-----
I didn't notice I had drifted off and sunk down into my bed, and because of my carelessness I found myself running again, but this time everything felt much more real. I could feel the ache in my bare feet as they pounded against the wet ground, slipping on leaves, and thudding with each time they landed. Green and brown blurred past me in waves, but I was focused on the small clouds of my breath in front of me, watching them appear and swirl past me in the opposite direction of the colors. My panting and the sound of the rain had almost managed to cover up the sound of my feet, but I was sure I was the loudest thing in the forest. I felt the urgent need to silence myself, so I slowed and looked around me. I was freezing and the rain was making rivers of droplets over my bare skin. My feet sunk further into the weakened ground as I continued standing and looking for something, or maybe someone. The feeling of how completely fucked I was set in, along with overwhelming guilt. Whispers circled me. It was my name being whispered, and I fought my memory, searching for the voice because I knew it, but just when I had found it the scene slowed and faded away along with the memory, and I woke up.
I hissed through my teeth as my legs throbbed just as they had every night, but I quickly forgot about them when I realized I was soaked. At first, I thought I was sleep walking, but I felt my bed shift and realized there was someone beside me.
"I'm sorry. I didn't have anywhere else to go." The whispers came rushing back into my head along with the name.
"Patrick?" I asked for confirmation, sitting up relieving the weight on my side.
"I had to leave." He whispered, the timid tone back in his voice. He was shaking beside me, and he was also the one wet.
I stood fumbling for my light in confusion. I flipped the switch up, squinting as the room filled with light. Patrick seemed to shrink smaller on my bed. I would have been pissed about the muddy water everywhere if I didn't catch a glimpse at his face first. He looked much like the time I found him beside the tire place, and guilt consumed me replacing the anger. Of course, he didn't just ditch me. I shook my head feeling awful as I sat back on my bed removing his hands from over his face. "It's okay. Where is all this blood coming from?" I asked pushing his hair back to look. He had a gash running down from his hairline that was bleeding a fair amount.
I helped him up, led him to the bathroom, pulled out a first aid kit, and cleaned off the wound as water pooled at his feet, dripping from his clothes. I handed him a towel, and he ran it through his hair and wiped off his face.
"Take your clothes off." I said turning before turning back, realizing how that sounded. "I mean so I can get you dry clothes." I added. He nodded without even a second thought before he was stripping. I stood there in the doorway, staring like a deer caught in headlights. He was beautiful. The thought just kept circling my head. He was gorgeous actually. Gorgeous and down to his underwear. When his eyes met mine, I turned away, and my face flushed with embarrassment. His eyes were breath taking, just as his skin was, but the look they held was enough to strike a heat growing inside of me.
I quickly walked back into my room rummaging through my drawers for clothes. When I finally found something for him to wear I turned with them in hand to find he was standing behind me with that smile, and I just couldn't lie to myself anymore. I dropped the clothes pulling him to me and pressing my lips to his. They were cold and wet, not at all like I imagined, but I loved it nonetheless, and the closer I pulled him, the warmer they got.
Author's Note: All I ask is that you vote for each chapter and leave a comment on parts you liked. I'm very interested in what interests because I want to use it to make my writing better, but I get absolutely no feedback.
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Delusional
RomanceI was only trying to help...you know that...you believe me...right? Patrick...
