Come Back to Me [Boy x Boy]

Chapter 1

Jesse P.O.V

Life has a funny way of coming around to hit you while you're down. The thing is, I've been down for pretty much my entire life and I seem to be a magnet for tragedy.

I should've stayed away from everyone to keep them safe. Perhaps then everything would be okay. I wouldn't be horribly disfigured and dependent on my family. My boyfriend would still be alive. If I had only kept to myself.

Connie, my sister, barges into my room early in the morning and begins to shake me out of my dreamless slumber. I would prefer to sleep for an eternity, but that's impossible with Connie around.

"Get up, Jesse. You know you can't miss any more school," she says, practically dragging me out of bed by my oxygen tube.

In reality, there's nothing I can do to fight her. I'm attached to some form of oxygen every minute of every day. Not only that, but due to the recent crash, I've lost my right arm at the shoulder. Most of the time, I feel completely and utterly helpless.

"Please don't make me go," I beg, trying to stay in bed.

Connie sighs softly as she starts digging through my closet. She pulls out one of my boyfriend's hoodies and throws it at me.

"Wear that, you love it," she says while continuing to dig.

I toss it back in grief. "Put it back where you got it from," I snap harshly.

I lay back down in my bed and pull the covers up. Connie should know better than to bring him up. She knows how upsetting it is to me.

"Come on, Jesse, John wouldn't want you cooped up in here."

"Don't say his name!" I cry, pulling the covers all the way over my head.

My heart aches at the thought of him. Just hearing his name sends me into a frenzy of agony and sorrow.

I wish I was the one driving that day. It would've been me. He would have made it out relatively okay. He would go home to his parents. They would hug him in relief that he was okay and mourn with him over me. That was the way things should have happened. Instead, they happened the opposite, and here we are now.

I would give anything to change places with him. I would gladly lay cold in a hospital room, hooked up to endless machines to keep my organs functioning. That's basically my life at this point. He deserved better.

"Jesse, you can't keep blaming yourself for what happened," Connie whispers while gently pulling the blankets down.

My chest becomes tight and breathing becomes harder than usual. I'm trying to hold back my tears. It only makes my health worse. Soon, I'll be coughing so hard that I'll come close to vomiting.

"It should have been me," I sob into my pillow.

Connie puts her hand on my shoulder in a reassuring manner and begins to rub my back as my coughing spell starts. I cough for a good minute before dry-heaving into my trashcan. Connie is so used to the sight that she doesn't even flinch. She simply continues to rub and pat my back until it finally passes.

"Don't get yourself worked up."

"Too late," I sputter after spitting out a bit of blood.

She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair. In the end, she puts the hoodie back and grabs a loose T-shirt instead. I sigh softly, knowing that she's still planning on making me go to school.

"I don't want you to fail due to absences."

It's her classic excuse. I could easily get a doctor's note excusing the absence and she knows that. She doesn't want to go to school alone and have people ask how I'm doing, not that many would care. I'm not very relevant on campus.

I slowly struggle to get dressed. Being on oxygen with two arms was hard enough already. Now I only have one arm, severely damaging my already limited actions.

Connie constantly offers to help me, but having her help me do everything makes me feel like a burden. There is very little that I can do on my own. I want to be self-sufficient, but unfortunately, my health won't allow that.

Connie carries my portable concentrator downstairs to the kitchen. I hate to force her to slow down because I know that she would rather do things quickly. I'm nothing but a burden.

"You hungry?" she asks while beginning to dig through one of the higher cupboards.

"No."

My appetite has practically disappeared. I never feel hungry anymore, most likely due to all the guilt I feel. I begin to feel nauseous, even when I eat very little.

"When's the last time you ate?" she asks, giving me a stern look so I'll tell her the truth.

"Last night at dinner," I mumble softly, leaning against the counter for a bit of support.

"Liar." She grabs two bowls and fills them with cereal. "All you did was poke your food with your fork and move it around the plate. You didn't actually eat any of it." She hands me one of the bowls.

I sigh as we walk to the car. Our dad drives us to school in silence. Every so often, I see him glance back at us in the rear-view mirror.

Connie doesn't hesitate to eat her cereal on the drive to school. I manage to eat a few pieces, but other than that I hardly touch it. And while I hope Connie doesn't notice, she does, of course. Although, this time she doesn't say anything.

We get out of the car, saying goodbye to one of our dads before walking onto campus. I lift the strap of my portable concentrator over my head and wear it on my good shoulder.

Connie insists on carrying my bag to my first period. We only have one class together and it's the last period of the day. It makes things easier when going home, but I know she would rather have all day together.

We get to my class right as the bell rings. She sets my bag down by my desk and hugs me goodbye before running to her first class.