Come Back to Me [Boy x Boy]

Chapter 10

Jesse P.O.V

As I continue to sleep peacefully, I hear the faint sounds of talking from downstairs. I can't make out any words. My vision is hazy, but by looking at the clock I see that it's roughly seven A.M.

I sit up slowly, rubbing my face gently. My body is aching as I slowly get out of bed. Everything hurts as if someone folded my body into an origami rose and forced me to sleep that way.

My feet barely lift the floor when I walk down the stairs. The wall gives me a bit of support so I'm not completely on my own. Luckily, I make it down the stairs without falling.

Connie and both our fathers are in the kitchen. They're talking in hushed tones; their words are unintelligible.

When I enter the kitchen, everyone disperses and quickly stops their discussion. It doesn't sit right with me. Something is going on around the house and I'm the only one who isn't in on it. 

"What's going on?" my voice is slightly altered as I ask with a yawn.

"Nothing," Connie says hastily while handing me a bowl of cereal.

My parents busy themselves with drinking their morning coffee at the kitchen table. Neither of them pays me any mind as I sit down across from them.

"What were you guys talking about before I came in here?"

Both my fathers give each other a glance before one of them speaks. "We weren't talking."

"It must have been the television," the other adds.

I listen to the silence for a few moments. "It's not on right now."

"I just turned it off," Connie says while entering the room, conveniently from the living room.

This entire scenario seems strange to me. No one is making eye contact with me. None of their answers seem to be the truth. There's a strange and unwanted tension in the air.

"Something's going on," I mumble softly while dipping my spoon into my untouched bowl of cereal.

"What makes you say that?" my father, Xander, asks.

My head jerks up and my eyes glare at him. I come off a bit more hostile than I meant to, but it wasn't intentional.

"I don't know since no one will tell me anything. You just keep dodging my questions," I practically bark out.

He looks down and sighs softly. I instantly regret taking such a tone with the people who take care of me every day. People who could've given up on me, but didn't, because they love me. I should be more appreciative.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"It's okay," Jack says, "you're going through a lot right now."

The sentence now seems like a humorous understatement. "A lot" hardly compares to the emotional and physical pain that I'm being forced to endure.

My parents couldn't even begin to understand what I'm going through. At this point, I'm not even sure what keeps me going. I don't have anything that can force my body to keep on trying. I have medication, oxygen, anti-depressants, but those things only go so far. I have my family, my comatose partner, but I'm losing hope. My hope for this life is quickly depleting.

"Things will get better," Connie says while rubbing my shoulders.

Connie is the only one who knows the full extent of my pain. She's the only person I've told. She's the only person I could bring myself to tell. We've grown up together. We share everything. We shared a womb for nine months. Of course, I would have to tell her.

"I hope so," I practically sigh out my sentence.

"Be optimistic," she says softly while putting two pills in my hand.

Both are anti-depressants. I'm not trusted with pills anymore. Not since I tried to end my pain for all of eternity. Now my pills are locked away. I'm the only one who doesn't have a key.

I pop both pills into my mouth, lean my head back, and take a long swallow of milk. The pills aren't the easiest thing to take, but I'm told they help. I haven't exactly noticed a difference, but my family says they have.

After finishing my cereal, I take my bowl to the sink, rinse it out, and set it in the dishwasher. I trudge upstairs and throw on some clothes. Today is Sunday, meaning I have no school. Honestly, it's quite a relief.

I shuffle back downstairs and collapse onto the couch. The same hushed talking begins to stir in the kitchen. I'm closer this time and manage to make some of it out.

"He's getting suspicious."

"He'll figure out-," unfortunately, I'm unable to hear the rest of that.

"Maybe it's for the best."

My curiosity has gotten the best of me. I have to know what they're talking about before it drives me mad.

"What's going on?"

As soon as I enter, my family goes quiet again. The same nervous look engulfs their expressions, no matter how hard they try to hide it.

"Nothing. You're being paranoid," Connie lies.

"Tell me the truth," I snap.

"I did. It's not my fault if you don't believe me."

The lies from my family get under my skin. I'm irritated and worried about what they're not telling me. If it's something they can't tell me that they know then it must be horrible; gruesome even.

"Whatever's wrong, just tell me. If I'm dying, tell me. If one of you is sick, tell me. If they finally pulled the plug, just tell me," my voice is a soft mutter as I lean against the kitchen counter for support.

"No, Jesse, it's nothing like that," Jack puts his hand on my shoulder.

"Then why won't you just tell me?" I'm getting irritated once more.

Connie sighs softly. "I told them."

"Told them what?" I ask quickly.

"I told them what happened," she admits quietly.

It doesn't take me long to realize what Connie is talking about. "I can't believe this!" I snap. "You promised!"

"I know," she pauses, "but they deserved to know."

"I trusted you," I begin to walk away.

"Jesse-!"

"You broke your promise."