Chapter 52: What goes Around Comes Around

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Wellll I kind of didn't have another chapter name... Warning... violence?

ThirdKing: We r coming tomorrow

ForShame: Or the day after

CharlesWheee: Heard you beat up a fag, T

WhatdIMiss: Yeah

Somehow, I didn't feel even remotely happy to confirm that statement. All I could think about was the word on the street that Alex had attempted suicide- no one would tell me and I couldn't blame them- and the terrible things I had said to him right before.

I knew without a doubt that if Alex died, it would be my fault.

I shut off my phone, the click feeling final and all to solid in the silence that filled my apartment like heavy water ever since Jemmy left. No more of his soothing voice, his quiet love- not that I wanted it or anything. I slipped it into my pocket and walked out the door.

I didn't like Alex, but I wasn't heartless. I wanted to see if I could overhear any news on him, although to be fair he was a f****t and god he was a dick.

And, like, honestly, why did he have to talk to Jemmy so much? Memories that I'd tried to suppress came back again- Jemmy's hands in my hair and the hurt that flashed through his eyes, bright and fast as lightning every time I shut him out. Or, the gay part of him. I was not a f****t.

I just needed to clear my head. I figured I'd got for a stroll, as if the crisp clarity of the clean air could do the same to my mind. Clear. Cleansed.

The pavement was solid, more real and substantial than the thoughts that whirled around my head. The trees were bright and alive. The sun piercing and unblocked. Beautiful.

Until, "Thomas!" Fuck. Angelica.

I cursed under my breath and called out behind me without turning, "Go fuck yourself," speeding up my steps. I groaned as she literally ran to stand in front of me.

She held out a tan hand as if asking for a handshake. "Congratulations."

I accepted it automatically, a practiced motion.

"You have invented a new kind of stupid, damage you can never undo kind of stupid." I tried to pull my hand back but when I tugged her cold fingers only tightened. "An open all the cages in the zoo kind of stupid, a 'really, you didn't think this through?' kind of stupid." She yanked me towards her with surprising force, pulling hard on the arm that she held dight, and the fucking bitch flipped me onto my back right there on the cold concrete, the stray rocks digging into my skin like blunt knives.

The wind was not only kicked out of me- it was scared out of me. It ran away. It was not coming back. She let me go then.

I only gathered a few meager, shallow breaths. "Bitch."

She just laughed, and walked over me, literally stepping on my heart for a couple moments longer than needed until I was forced to abandon my pride and gasp loudly for breath like a fish out of water. You try breathing when someone is standing on your chest.

What an actual bitch.

Oxygen deprivation does harass on ability, though, so when the f** left I didn't even move, trying only to catch my breath. Shit, it was embarrassing lying on the ground like a helpless weakling. I tried not to let a flush crawl up my neck as I fought off the thought that people were probably watching.

I heard soft footsteps behind me and I did not want to cry. I would not. I wouldn't.

"Jefferson." The voice held so much contempt that it was barely recognisable. She used to call me Thomas. She used to say my name like a god, not a regurgitated rat. She used to look up at me with love.

Right now, she stared down on me with burning hatred I had never seen. Sally used to kiss me eagerly. Now she kicked me with fury, from the side of my head to a stomp on my knee that erupted a scream from my throat before I could stop it, and stars of pain filled my vision.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" footsteps receded as my sight gradually returned. Yes. I did know that. Staring at nothing, I realized I was lying right by Eliza's coffee place. The token gay hang out. Plastered over the clean glass was a pristine sign that took up half the window.

FUCK JEFFERSHIT!

Now that was just petty. It was so petty, it didn't sting at all. It didn't hurt like the ache of my oxygen deprived lings, it didn't flare red pain like my broken leg. Not at all.

I wasn't fighting tooth and nail not to cry.

Except that I was. And it did. But I wouldn't. I was weak, but I was stronger than that. It was funny how the hate hurt me in a deeper and more painful way than my broken leg. It was funny how I was actually thinking about this.

I just needed to get home. I imagined the ease of entering my apartment, the softness of the couch pillows, the relief of releasing streaking tears that were long overdue.

I just needed to get home. I almost laughed at how pathetic I was, a little bit of hysteria bubbling in my throat as a few clouds floated in front of the midday sun.

I thought I was a cat, but it turned out I was just an injured, cold, pathetic mouse.

As I struggled to sit up, my hands scraping against the sharp, loose rocks, I saw James walking down the street towards me. Jemmy. Sweet, wonderful, beautiful, loving Jemmy. Solace in the world that clearly turned against me.

Never before had I asked him for help. I tried not to think about how many times I'd use the word please with him because I was afraid I would draw a blank. There was a first time for everything.

Today, under the covered sun with the prospect of being left here all day, I decided this could be a first time.

Seeing Jemmy gave me the willpower to prop myself up against the wall, just a tiny bit. Just enough to watch Jemmy walking.

I extended a hand, cursing myself as how feeble my hand looked, trembling gently. "James."

He didn't respond. Maybe he didn't hear me, I hoped, a fragile flower blossoming in sunlight I knew wasn't there. "Please." He still didn't look at me, staring straight ahead as if there was something infinitely interesting on the horizon. "Jemmy."

At the nickname something indefinable flashed across his eyes, but it was replaced with the cold steel of resolve, as sharp as a sword, as he walked right me. He didn't acknowledge my presence even with a blink.

Even when I begged straight up, "Jemmy, please help me. Please."He walked right past me. His eyes didn't even flick towards me. I knew he heard me. I could tell from the tension in his beautiful frame. I wanted nothing more than to pull him close and leech the tension out of him until he relaxed into my touch- but it didn't do to think like that. I couldn't even move.

As he walked away, each step a new wound, I felt the dam break inside of me and the floodgates opened, tears filling my eyes. I whispered brokenly to myself, "Jemmy... Jemmy... Jemmy..." each time more meaningless than the next.

My Jemmy had been the one constant I could count on. My Jemmy had always been there when I needed him. My Jemmy always sent me love when I didn't...

When I pretended I didn't want it.

And my Jemmy was no longer mine.




















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