Putting the Pieces Together

Chapter 10

JESUS CHRIST OVER 3,000 READS STOP YOU ARE AMAZING THE MOST SUPERB TATERTOTS I HAVE EVER SEEN! I'm not gonna lie, I'm having some writers block issues. I really freak out whether or not it will be good enough for the public every time. AHH well I can always erase all memory's that this story ever existed. :)) but I'm way too lazy. SO TRY AND ENJOY THE OVERUSED UNORIGINAL STORY YEAHH

(Jerome's POV)

I awoke to notice Mitch already out of bed. I checked the clock and it read 6:29 am. There is a Team Crafted meeting coming up in two days. I hope Mitch will be up for it. I recalled last night. My arms around him, protecting him from the protruding darkness. I remember waiting for around a half an hour before his breathing slowed, and his eyes shut. His face was perfect when he slept, looking innocent and, of course, adorable. I got out of bed and walked to my room. After dressed and looking decent enough, I walked down the stairs. I was taken aback by the sudden aroma of syrup and... Bacon? I came into the kitchen to see Mitch placing bacon and pancakes on two plates.

"Good morning early bird," I playfully said.

"Hey Biggums." He pulled out a stool, his hand directing me to sit in it.

"Why, thank you sir," I said to him in a snotty accent. He placed a plate in front of me gently.

"It's my turn to serve you." He smiled gently, sitting next to me.

"You got up at, like, seven o'clock to cook for me?"

"I wanted to thank you for... Staying with me."

"Well, you did have a nightmare, Biggums. It was the least I-"

"No," he cut me off, "I mean just staying here, in my house. For keeping me company." I felt my cheeks redden.

"You need someone to be with you." He grinned, then started to eat. I did as well, and the food was delicious.

"This is Gucci, G!" He chuckled at my word choice.

"Oh yeah, there's a Team Crafted meeting in two days. We can stay there until... The funeral. I'm not sure if you want to go. I can stay wherever you are." His smile depleted, and he nodded.

"I can go to L.A. It's fine, really."

"Ok. Just remember that they are your friends, and they care about you." We continue eating in silence.

"Oh crap! I was supposed to visit my aunt today. I have to go call her, once second." I took our plates and placed them in the sink, then ran upstairs into my room.

(Mitch's POV)

I really don't want to go to the Team Crafted house. I don't want more people. It puts me any a greater risk of them finding out. I sighed and walked upstairs. As I was on the way to my room, I noticed my parent's room opened slightly. I glanced inside. It wasn't opened before... I searched the room for possible reasons. The windows were closed, and Jerome doesn't have a reason to open it. As I was about to exit, I noticed a piece of paper under my father's pillow. It was to me? It was on lined paper, and was hand written.

'Dear Mitchell,

I am not sure if you will ever read this letter. I just want to tell you a few things. I've known that you were gay for a few years now. Your mother has also. She is becoming mentally insane, and I'm not sure what to do at this point. She refuses to visit a doctor, no matter how much I plead her to do so. I think one of these days, she will just break. I accept you whichever way you are. If I never speak to you again, I want you to understand how much I love you. I will try and send this tomorrow to you. Remember that if you want to give up, I am always here. I am honored to call you my son. You'll get with Jerome one day. I heard you talking about him endless times. Goodbye Mitch. And good luck.

Your proud father'

I stared at the letter, confused and relieved. At least one person accepts me in the world. But then if my mother already knew about me being gay for years. Why did she get surprised by my text? Was it even because of my text? Did she just blame me for her own sick mind? Yet, she became insane because of me. If I could just be a normal straight guy, maybe my life would be better. Maybe I wouldn't always feel like I'm just like a puzzle, and my pieces are all missing. I'm just waiting to be out together by someone. And I know exactly who I want to help me. But I don't want him to be forced to help me. I feel terrible for him, having to deal with me and manage me every night, screaming and crying like a weak little boy. I gently folded the note and put it back under his pillow. I gently closed the door, walking to my room. I went into my bathroom, not wanting to keep my terrible food in me for any longer. After I finished, I washed my face and hands, trying not to look in the mirror but overall failing. I see my pale face again, completely dissapointed. I sat on the toilet seat, trying to clear my mind of unpleasant thoughts. I can hear the children, saying harsh and cruel things. Emo, Freak, Fag, Gay boy, fuck-up, all of the words appearing once again in my head, not leaving. Just then I hear Jerome calling my name. I remember what Jerome said to me in school. He told me that sticks and stones may break my bones, but one more rude word said about me and he will break all if their bones with sticks and stones. Though it seemed like a joke, he really did watch out for me. Anytime someone called me names, he would take out a rock and hold it to their head. I was never bullied when he was around me. But when I moved away again, he couldn't stand up for me anymore.

"Mitch? Do you wanna record? It's been a few days since we have." He said outside my door.

"Uh, sure. I'll be out in a second, G." He mumbled something and his footsteps got quieter. I looked into the mirror one last time. I didn't kill myself for nineteen years. Maybe I can hold on for more. I walked out of the bathroom, turning off the lights in my bedroom. I had gone one day without cutting. Why shouldn't I be able to manage a few days without doing it. I just hoped that I could actually pull it off. I unlocked my door, and practiced my best fake smile as walking to Jerome's room.

A/N .......... I know... You waited like ten days for this chapter... Hehe... Sorry not sorry? *you beat me up and take my lunch money* okay, okay, I deserves that. *you tie me by my underpants onto a flagpole and lift it up. I am a symbol of justice* okay, okay, I deserved that too. *someone cuts strings and I fall on my face* okay that was a little too much, don't you think? SORRY I KNOW IT IS SHORT I AM SORTA SICK I KNOW THAT IS THE WORST EXCUSE EVER BUT I AM FREEZING YET SWEATING AND IT FEELS SO WEIRD AND TERRIBLE AND I HAD A SLEEPOVAAAA YESTERDAY SO I AM STILL KINDA TIRED EVEN THOUGH I WENT TO BED AT 1:30 BUT STILL "this is longer than the actual story HAHAHAHAHA NOOB" :0 I don't care, I'm a cat. Sorry again for the poor quality story and the boredom you must have gotten from reading it. TATERTOTS WILL REIN BAIII