What It Takes To Move On (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 2

Author's Note: Apparently my use of language makes this story restricted but I was eventually going to make it restricted anyways. I present to you, chaper 2 of WITTMO.

Chapter 2

Saturday mornings have always been my favourite time of the week. Normally, I’d wake up, wash up, throw in that week’s laundry for a spin, and make myself a nice breakfast while watching whatever was on tv. By the time I was awake, my parents were usually off to work already and Roger wouldn’t be up for hours. I was a bit of early bird. Unfortunately for me, this was not a usual Saturday morning.

Naturally, after a night filled with crying, I woke with a pounding headache. My throat was dry and my eyes would barely open. Even after rinsing my eyes multiple times, I still had trouble keeping my eyelids apart. I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my hair. When I looked in the mirror, I could barely recognize the person staring back at me. The raw flesh around my eyes was red, my normally plump cheeks were hallow, my blond hair hang awkwardly around the shape of my face and my pale skin made me look as if I’d risen from the dead. Needless to say, the laundry wasn’t getting done today.

I slowly crept down the wooden stairs, making sure not to wake up Roger, and I made my way to the kitchen. I opened the door of the fridge and peered inside. One glance at the food was all it took to make my stomach clench in protest. A wave of nausea passed through me. Still, I knew needed to eat something. I noticed a bowl of fruit salad covered with a layer of cellophane wrap tucked away at the back of the fridge. I assumed it was last night’s dessert. I grabbed the bowl and a fork from the dish rack and scarfed down a few pieces of fruit.

At about 8:23, I put away the fruit salad and dropped my fork in the sink, then I made my way to the living room. I walked towards the couch and slid onto it, laying on my stomach with my right hand hanging over the edge. I grabbed the tv remote and switched the tv on. I spent half an hour flipping through channels before I gave up and turned the damn thing off. This was pointless.

I wanted to move, but I couldn’t. I physically could not convince my body to get off of the black leather couch that occupied my living room. For a while I just laid there and listened to the sound of my breathing. The focus on the patterns of my inhalations and exhalations made me aware of the aching in my chest. Right where my heart should be, there was a fist sized lump. It made me breathing unsteady and it hurt. The pain wouldn’t leave. It felt as if someone had plunged a knife deep into my chest and left it there.

I’m not sure how long I stared at the blank tv screen, but during that time, Roger had woken up. I didn’t notice him until I heard the sound of his footsteps trotting down the stairs. The creaking of the floorboards sounded as if he was headed towards the kitchen but half-way there, he stopped and headed in my direction. I looked up to see him staring at me with a confused expression. He looked at my lifeless body lying on the couch, then at the tv. Then again at me.

“Jack?” he said, sounding a bit confused.

“Yes, Roger?” I stated in reply.

“You do realize the television is off, right?” he asked, with genuine worry.

“Yes Roger, I realized.” I replied, with a hint of annoyance in my voice. Despite his age of 23, Roger was an idiot.

“Oh. Okay. Well as long as you’re aware.” he stated before he headed off towards the kitchen.

That’s when I decided it was probably time for me to stop wallowing in self-pity and get the hell up. Following Roger into the kitchen, I made my way towards the counter that my phone was charging on, then proceeded to check my text messages. They were all sent to me at about 11 am. It was now 1 in the afternoon. 2 from mom, 3 from Angela, and 1 from Tyce.