"You can't stop me anymore, Katherine." Sonny's voice was as cold and lifeless as he already felt.
"Sonny. Stop. Please, Sonny." But it would be over soon.
In Sonny's mind, he couldn't see the sincerity on Katherine's face. She looked blank. She didn't care. He put the knife back on his arm and slid it across slowly. Tears streamed down his face again.
He hated that Katherine was seeing him cry. But she wouldn't have to see him at all anymore. She didn't want him. She wanted… Adrian.
Of all people, Katherine left him for Adrian. But Sonny knew it was bound to happen. Katherine was beautiful. Sonny was not. Adrian was perfect; everything Katherine said she wanted and said she found in Sonny. She lied.
She was so amazing. Every inch of her was gorgeous- where Sonny was pale she was perfectly tanned, where Sonny had scars Katherine was flawless, where her eyes were icy blue, Sonny's were lifeless and dark. And where Katherine was happy and confident, Sonny was insecure and tormented.
"Sonny," She pleaded, tears streaming out of her blue eyes, mascara smearing and destroying the beautiful fantasy of her face. Without stupid things like makeup and carefully planned words, Katherine wasn't beautiful at all.
But why did Sonny's heart skip beats when she breathed his name one more time?
She was fake. But so was Sonny. Was he complaining about her being such a liar? No. Why was she?
"Please." Sonny cut again, a little deeper, just above the last one. She didn't reach to touch him, instead she stepped back. Disgusted with him, with what Sonny had become. Just like everyone else.
"Go home, Katherine." Sonny choked out through tears. "Leave me alone." He let the knife slip out of his fingers and he moved towards her. She backed away, a mixture of fear and disgust on her pretty face. Sonny screamed at her. "Leave!"
"No! Sonny, you're gonna kill yourself. Stop!"
"No! You can't tell me what to do anymore!" He cried out, picking up the knife from the sink's edge and letting it slid onto his skin again. The smell of blood filled the bathroom, and Katherine looked sick.
"You're doing this to yourself!" she cried out, and she turned and Sonny shut his eyes and she was gone. She'd left him.
Once again.
Now he could bleed and cry and scream and die in peace.
He fell asleep on the floor in the hallway, his blue shirt stained black with blood, his face wet with tears, whispering Katherine's name over and over.
He had nightmares.
The next morning he took a shower, scrubbed his arms and put on a black hoodie. He intended on wearing it for the remainder of his pathetic life.
He looked in the mirror, at his stupid hair, at his stupid eyes with the makeup smeared around them, and the eyes full of still more tears.
How stupid.
Sonny sat alone that day in his room, tracing his cuts and scars until his hands were covered in blood, and he got back in the shower to clean himself off again.
He repeated the cycle for four more days, never speaking a word, sobbing himself to sleep and dreaming of a cruel and beautiful tanned face with icy blue eyes.
He tried to eat sometimes. He threw up from the thought of being all alone forever. And even when he didn't, he threw up because he didn't deserve to eat.
Sonny was bulimic as long as he could remember. Maybe that was one of the reasons Katherine had started to grow apart from him. Since she found out, things weren't the same. She didn't smile as much. She
Would he die from not eating? No. But would he die from this eating disorder? Probably.
After a week of cutting and binging and nightmares and crying his eyes out, Sonny decided to take a walk. The cool air felt good against his cuts, and halfway down the block he realized he was wearing only an old band T-shirt, no hoodie.
He didn't care.
He walked until his feet hurt, and then kept going. His eyes were dry this time, and he didn't feel like throwing up the food he'd last ate. Was he better? He didn't know.
He walked for at least an hour and a half, and then he walked back. It was dark by the time he started to turn around and head for home, and at a point he realized what a bad idea it was being out after dark in such a bad neighborhood.
Then, he heard it. The unmistakable sound of gunshots.
Sonny turned to face the direction of the sound. There was a man, blood pouring out of his chest, turning the ground black and purple in the moonlight, laying on the pavement about fifty or so feet back.
"Run!" The man cried out, giving Sonny away, and the man's attacker came out from the corner of the building.
He was clearly bigger than Sonny in every way: Sonny was sort of tall but very thin, thanks to being such an insecure, bulimic idiot. And he had no muscle in any way.
The man's face was hidden in the shadows, and his hood was over his head, but Sonny saw the glint of the metal of the gun in his hand. The man headed straight for Sonny.
It took Sonny a moment to realize what was actually happening as the man raised the gun and pointed it at him. Then, Sonny turned and ran. He turned the first corner he saw and hid there in the darkness, struggling to breathe.
He felt himself involuntarily whisper something, and was horrified to realize it was a plead for Katherine. Stop, Sonny. He told himself. She was never there for you. She was never even there to begin with.
He heard the footsteps coming closer, and then they stopped. Sonny cursed in his head.
This was it.
The man turned and looked right at him, his hood falling to expose his face. Some Mexican gang member, Sonny was sure, with a nasty scar up one side of his face and a shaved head covered in tattoos in Spanish.
The ugly man grinned at Sonny and took a step closer.
"You, feo Niño… I am going to enjoy this." Sonny tried hard not to remember what little Spanish he knew. You, ugly boy… Sonny squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to imagine what a bullet felt like, praying it would be over quickly.
"No. I won't make it that easy," The man said, dropping his gun to the ground. He instead pulled out a switchblade.
Sonny whimpered, pressing his back against the brick wall of the alley and looking around desperately for an escape. No one would even hear him scream. These things happened every night in this part of town.
Who would remember Sonny Moore? Not Katherine. He was certain of it. She wouldn't remember until she saw his ugly face on the news above the title 'dead boy found'.
The first thing Sonny felt was the knife against his throat. He choked back a scream. He wouldn't give this guy the satisfaction of hearing him scream or cry. Sonny was stronger than that.
He'd already cried until he was on voice arrest, anyways.
"Not gonna cry for help, feo Niño?" Sonny squeezed his eyes shut and bit his tongue until he tasted blood. He cried out quietly when the guy dragged the blade across his neck. It stung, but the feeling of a blade was all too familiar to Sonny.
The man must've cut his throat at least six or seven times, deeper each time, before lowering the knife. Sonny felt his own blood soak his T-shirt, but he didn't make a sound. His vision blurred as he opened his eyes. How much blood was leaving him now?
Did he even have enough to begin with?
Then, suddenly, the man dropped the knife, letting it clatter on the bloody pavement, and he turned, grabbing his gun from the ground, and ran.
Ran from Sonny, leaving him there alone. To bleed out.
Sonny attempted to take a step forward, but collapsed to the ground in his own blood. He curled up on the pavement and shut his eyes, feeling the burning of his own blood leaving him.
He knew he was dying. He didn't care.
He was already dead.
Sonny had died the second Katherine left him.
He woke up in the hospital bed, and the first thing he felt was relief. His skin was cool all over, and when he opened his eyes he saw the white, sterile room and heard the sounds of machines beeping.
His wrists and neck were bandaged, and for once none of his cuts hurt.
It was… pure relief.
After all this time of physical pain to mask the emotional, now he wasn't struggling to hold back tears from actual pain. The dark, heavy feeling of depression and angst wasn't there at the moment, and Sonny tried hard to push the thought from his mind.
As he pulled himself to sit up slightly, he didn't once think of Katherine, or her beautiful and cruel face, or her soft, pretty, lying mouth.
The nurse came in. She was an exceptionally gorgeous young woman, with dark reddish brown hair falling just above her shoulders and bright blue eyes and perfect skin. Sonny looked at her for a long time, but felt nothing.
His heart didn't skip a beat when he noticed that her figure was completely perfect in the tight white nurse's dress, and he could breathe evenly when she asked him in her soft, sweet voice if he needed anything.
And any time, any time Sonny had ever seen such a beautiful girl, he'd had some kind of reaction, at least a little bit of nervousness, but not this time. In his mind, it registered that she was gorgeous, but also he didn't even care.
Because there was someone else he had noticed just outside of the glass dividing his room from the hallway.
Standing there, looking really horribly upset, was a tall, thin boy with dark brown hair and bright greenish eyes, talking to a doctor and looking more horrified by the second.
But that wasn't what had caught Sonny's eye.
This boy… whoever he was… he was completely gorgeous. His pale face was the most unreal and beautiful thing Sonny could ever remember seeing, and at that point he remembered Katherine.
But he couldn't bring himself to compare her to this beautiful boy because, well, he could just tell that Katherine's fake, eyeliner and mascara and hairspray beauty wouldn't even compare to this boy. Sonny's heart stopped, and he couldn't breathe for a moment.
Ugly boy, he told himself. Why would that guy even speak to you?
And what the hell are you doing, Sonny? What the hell are you thinking? You're in love with Em. You always will be, Sonny.
And why would you even think about this boy like that?
The idea of being gay had never once occurred to Sonny. Maybe because… well, because he just wasn't. Or maybe because he'd been consumed with Katherine for as long as he could remember.
He did, though, remember a few times when he wondered if he even wanted her, but then he knew he was nothing without her. Why would you leave the one thing that made anyone think of you?
He was always 'Katherine's boyfriend'. Or even just 'Kat's friend.'
And now, now that he had been left to die by the one thing that kept him alive… what was he without her? Gay? Alone, no matter what else he turned out to be. All alone.
Suddenly, the boy turned and looked right at Sonny, and Sonny couldn't look away. They just stared at each other, and the other boy suddenly turned pale. He looked confused and then, like he himself didn't know why, fascinated with Sonny. Finally, Sonny looked down and when he looked back up, the boy was still staring at him with a mix of confusion and dire need.
Sonny shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.
He must've actually fallen asleep, because when he woke up his room was dark and no one was there. The haunting feeling of the boy's bluish green eyes on him remained. Sonny pulled himself out of the hospital bed. He hated hospitals.
More than that, he hated the stupid hospital clothes.
Sonny crawled back into the warm bed and fell asleep to the monotones of the machines again. When he woke up, he tried speaking.
"Hi." He told the pretty nurse. Her face lit up.
"Hi, Sonny." She smiled at him. He didn't smile back; he wasn't really ready for anything like that yet. "Feeling okay?"
"Sort of." His own voice sounded foreign. How many days had it been since he'd just spoken? Not screamed or cried or whispered, but actually talked?
"Um… okay, here's what you should know. I'm not supposed to tell you this, Sonny, so listen carefully." The pretty woman leaned closer to Sonny, and he was impressed with the way that she wasn't even scared when her arm touched his. She wasn't horrified or disgusted with Sonny.
"You've been here two weeks already. But you're getting better. You literally slept for a week and a half straight, and you woke up, and then you fell asleep for a few more days. But now you're awake, and your vitals look better than ever." She flashed a quick smile. "Also, you haven't had any visitors, but your aunt dropped off some clothes for you, and if you want them now you can have them."
"My… clothes?" Sonny asked slowly.
"Yes. A T-shirt, jeans and a hoodie, I think."
"What aunt?"
"Caroline Stones."
"Oh." He saw his aunt Caroline once a year, maybe, but she was the only family left to actually care about him. His parents were currently in Africa, or maybe Europe. He couldn't keep track, and they didn't care enough to send him letters or postcards. He was their loser kid.
They named him Sonny; if only they knew how ironic the name would be.
"Do you want the clothes?"
"Please." The nurse smiled one more time, and then walked out of the room. A minute later she came back with some clothes folded neatly in her hands. She gave them to Sonny, pointed him to the bathroom in the corner of the room and then left.
Sonny had never been so happy to have his own stupid clothes.
He slowly got out of the bed, pulling out the IV with his eyes squeezed shut and made his way to the little bathroom.
He flipped on the fluorescent lights and shut the door. He looked at himself in the mirror for a long time before doing anything.
Then, he washed his face twice with freezing cold water and ran his wet hands through his dirty black hair. The red dyed bits were faded out and the hair that was meant to go in his eyes was a little too long.
Of course, he doubted he'd be allowed scissors. Who would trust him with sharp things now? He glanced down at his bandaged arms. He laughed.
Then, he dried off his hands and changed into the grayish jeans his aunt had brought him. He hated them, honestly, but they felt better than the hospital gown. A thousand times better.
The T-shirt was just black, which was good. You can't see blood on a black T-shirt, no matter how hard you try. Sonny knew that better than anyone.
And the hoodie was gray, which was good enough since Sonny was freezing to death in the cold, sterile room. He shook out his hair and ran his fingers through it a couple more times before shutting off the light and leaving the bathroom. He felt a thousand times better.
But still, not much could help the gnawing, aching feeling in the center of his chest.
As he walked back to sit on the edge of his own hospital bed, he saw someone familiar through the window.
The greenish eyed boy.
Sonny stopped in his tracks and the boy's eyes met his. The other boy offered up a small, yet somehow sad, half smile, and Sonny's heart was racing too fast for him to smile back or even move. The boy just walked by, letting his hair hide his eyes as he walked out of view of the window to Sonny's room.
Sonny reminded himself; I'm a patient here.
Get in the hospital bed, Sonny. Act sick... Do a better job. Convince everyone. Why? You have to. You need to get better. And stop looking at that guy. It's weird; stop having your little crush on him.
But Sonny felt like it was already too late; he didn't know how to act when he saw the strange, pale boy outside of his hospital room. He felt like they were in separate worlds. Would the glass divide them forever?
And what if, when the glass finally shattered, the boy wasn't as perfect and beautiful as he appeared? Sonny didn't think it would matter either way.
It was a fantasy, and that boy was here as a visitor, not a pathetic, wrist-cutting patient. He wouldn't want anything to do with Sonny, even if he knew he existed. Surely the boy was only looking around, not taking that extra time to look at Sonny.
If only Sonny knew.
He curled up underneath the thin covers, in his jeans and his hoodie, and fell asleep one more time. This time he had tortured dreams. He'd been expecting these nightmares to make a reappearance.
Katherine dreams, of course. He woke up after a few hours, realizing that her beautiful face would haunt him until finally, finally someone put him out of his pathetic misery.
He called the nurse in, and she re-bandaged his arms and his neck for him. For the first time since making the cuts, Sonny got to see his own arms.
They were horrible. Some were still scabs, others were pink little half healed scars, and a few were more red. Sonny winced and drew a sharp breath as the slashes were exposed to the cool air. After a minute, it actually felt good.
Sonny's once pale, smooth wrists would be like this forever. But Sonny didn't think forever would turn out to be a very long time after all.
Sonny felt better with them all bandaged up and hidden, though. He thanked the nurse three times, but she shrugged it off.
Despite every inch of him telling him to hate this woman, for some reason he liked her. He almost trusted her, and he never trusted hospital people. Never.
Sonny's aunt brought him a collection of T shirts and old jeans and even two more jackets, but she never once stopped in to visit him.
He got cards from his family members. One from his grandma. She misspelled his name. The letter from his cousin was nice enough, but it seemed someone forgot to remind her that Sonny was a boy, because the letter was full of things like 'you're such a great girl'. Sonny threw those ones away. He kept a few letters from very old friends, old members of old bands he used to be in, people whose memories of Sonny were happy and good.
The days when Sonny was not only clean and sober and under control, but happy.
He also got one from his parents. It had stamps from different countries on it, but when Sonny opened it, there was not much there but a short note telling Sonny they loved him and that he should get better.
He didn't throw that one away, though. Something about the sincerity of the neat cursive made him set it on the table next to the dying flowers.
Then again, if parents were torn up about their son attempting suicide or being attacked by a maniac, wouldn't they at least be there? And if they couldn't, under some horrible circumstances, wouldn't they write in shaky handwriting, full of emotion and paper smeared with tears and sincerity?
Maybe Sonny was hoping for too much.
Sonny stayed inside his room, confined, eating hospital food silently and chatting with the doctor and doing stupid things like crossword puzzles for the next week.
Halfway through, he convinced them to let him take a shower. He was thrown in the sterile white bathroom, a different one than the one in the corner of his own room, and he was told he had ten minutes.
That was enough time to wash his dirty hair and to at least feel a little better. And plenty of time to cry his eyes out again.
He didn't cry nearly as hard as he'd thought he would.
He changed into clean clothes and didn't say a word as the doctors led him back into his room. He fell asleep and slept through the night for a change.
The past few nights, he'd woken up everyone screaming and crying in his nightmares. Sonny had apologized endlessly for it, and everyone was sympathetic and forgiving, but somehow Sonny felt like he was bothering everyone.
The half healed cuts healed almost entirely. But they added to his collection of scars. His neck was sort of healing, and he was supposed to get the stitches out in two more weeks. The stitches on the four cuts on his arms would come out in one week.
He was getting better. But no one offered up a day to leave, and no one told him how much longer he'd be staying. It seemed like Sonny Moore was a permanent fixture in the clean white hospital room 211.
He wasn't happy by any stretch, but him and Lisa- the nurse from his first day waking up, and all the other times- would watch old sitcoms together on the hospital TV and sometimes Sonny would smile when Lisa made jokes.
So maybe this was life now.
Living every day just to eat timed meals and take timed showers and sleep the rest of the time that you're trying not to feel like dying is a better option.
Sonny tried not to think about Katherine. Some days, it was easier to think happily about her blonde hair and tan skin and cold eyes. But most of the time, it brought down a horrible feeling of angst. And Sonny still didn't know how to cope with the feeling.
He cried at least once or twice a day. And when he cried, he cried. He didn't just sob a little. He cried his eyes out. He cried himself to sleep.
He had nothing better to do but drive himself insane with thoughts of Katherine and how he'll never be good enough for her. He'd remind himself how ugly and stupid and fat he was.
And then he'd drown in the thought of her cold blue eyes and her perfect, sterile beauty.
He was on bulimia watch constantly, though. So whether he wanted to or not, he was eating. He had two options, according to the doctors; Sonny could eat his food, or he could have his food put into his IV, which was apparently extremely unpleasant.
Sonny ate most of the time, and then the few days he slept through or was too messed up and depressed and whatever else, they would put him on the IV. It hurt his whole arm.
But if it was one of his worse days, he wanted the pain of it. Anything to help him deal with his own emotions.
After another five days, Sonny was allowed to shower every day and get up and walk around if he wanted to. He wasn't on the IV at all anymore, and he was on anti-depressants and pain killers. Sonny was happier, whether it was the drugs or his increased freedom.
He had his old, beat up sneakers now and he walked all around the hospital in them, sometimes with his hoodie over his head and his hands in his pockets.
To most people, he wasn't even a patient. He looked just like a visitor. The thought almost made him smile.
He pushed Katherine to the back of his mind on those days that he walked around the hospital, because he was in search of the weird green eyed boy.
Sonny was almost determined to say something to him. It didn't matter; Sonny was just fascinated, not interested in any way.
How could he be interested in anything but Katherine?
She was all he'd ever wanted, all he'd ever had, and all he ever would have. There was nothing and no one but Katherine. People would tell Sonny to move on. Which, he had. He'd moved on. But he'd never be able to love again, not after everything that had happened.
And maybe somehow, someday he could find a way to be happy and still accept the fact that Katherine is the only person he could ever love.
But Sonny wasn't sure he was capable of love at all anymore. Not even if Katherine came back. He was too damaged. Sonny Moore was a lost cause.
He ran flat into someone. An automatic apology tumbled out of Sonny's mouth as he looked up to see who he'd run into.
The boy.
And oh my God, he was even more gorgeous without the glass dividing them. Sonny hated himself more for admitting it, but his heart was skipping beats again.
"Sorry!" The boy said. And his voice wasn't magical or anything, but it was sort of soft and not surprising coming from that pretty mouth. "I'm Matt." The boy said awkwardly.
"I'm Sonny." Sonny breathed, his own name sounding weird and foreign.
"You're a patient."
"Yeah." Sonny looked down at his shoes, feeling awkward and ashamed. He noticed that Matt was wearing a band t shirt. He knew the band. If it had been normal circumstances, Sonny would've talked with Matt about his shirt, about the band.
They could've been friends. Under completely boring, average circumstances.
But not in this horrible, sterile, white hospital. Not while Sonny was a hopeless, depressed patient and Matt was a normal visitor to someone else.
"For what?" Matt asked. Sonny was silent. "I'm sorry… that was stupid of me. It's none of my business. I just…"
"It's okay. It's sort of… it's a long story."
"Oh. Um…"
"Maybe some other time." Sonny said after an awkward silence. Everything about this exchange was awkward.
It was obvious that the two were both trying hard not to look at each other. Sonny turned to leave.
"Wait, Sonny-" Sonny's breath caught in his throat as Matt said his name. And it was absolutely… perfect, in Sonny's mind.
Then, as he turned back to look at Matt, all he could think about was Katherine.
You were never good enough for her, and you never will be. You're not good enough for anyone. You're ugly, Sonny. You're stupid and fat and ugly and Katherine deserves better. Everyone deserves better.
Matt deserves to speak to someone better.
"I'm sorry I- I have to go." Sonny's voice cracked, and he choked back tears as he ran down the hall and back to his room. He shut the door and leaned against it, sliding down to sit on the floor. He cried in the darkness.
Couldn't Katherine ever just let him go? It felt like she still had her skinny, white long finger nailed hands around his throat. Sonny couldn't breathe, couldn't speak or scream.
And then came dreams of Adrian.
What was so much better than Sonny? Adrian, of course. He was like a doll; rehearsed, flawless, cool. Sonny was a mess, even on his best days, and he was a nervous wreck. He wasn't social, but he was full of good things to say. He just never got the chance to say them.
Adrian made those chances for himself. He made himself great. How could Sonny compare to such a perfect human being?
Of course, Katherine knew that. At first, she told Sonny how she'd never ever leave him. She promised. She apparently lied.
More than once.
And then, Adrian became a permanent fixture in their lives, and Katherine didn't go a day without speaking to him or seeing him.
And then there were the hours she'd be gone, and claim she was at dance rehearsal, or art class or some other place that she only went when it benefitted her in other ways.
Sonny knew all along that Katherine was cheating.
She'd come back, and she'd refuse to touch Sonny, refuse to hug him or barely even speak to him. Maybe Katherine was just a whore all along.
But what a beautiful, crafty, clever whore she was.
She wasn't careful or discreet about her ongoing adventures with Adrian, either. She'd come home, sometimes wearing Adrian's over sized football T-shirt, with her hair a hot mess and her lipstick gone. And she'd mention how good it felt to have such good friends.
Sonny was sure it felt great.
And then, there was the fight. Sonny asked about Adrian. Katherine was entirely too defensive. She'd stood there, in her full glory and beauty and pride, and slapped Sonny across the face.
Sonny distinctly remembered the pain of it, and then the scratches her fingernails had left on his skin. And he remembered the week after, hiding it with his hair or with makeup.
But still, Katherine apologized, and then all seemed good again. She snuck out late at night to go and hook up with Adrian.
Sonny pretended to sleep.
And then finally, it broke Sonny down, seeing them act like a couple in public while behind closed doors Katherine promised nothing was happening, that she loved Sonny more than ever.
It seemed like she'd finally found what she wanted; a tall, built, stupid but undeniably clever jock. She used to say she wanted an art boy like Sonny, the singer, the guitar player, the artist, the writer. But clearly, none of it mattered to Katherine.
None of Sonny's traits could apparently compare to whatever the jock could do under the sheets. Katherine never slept with Sonny. He never wanted to. Maybe she did, but she never made it clear. And clearly, she was getting those things from somewhere else.
At a point, Katherine was gone for two straight days and Sonny left the apartment.
There was no point waiting around for her. She'd come back and then it would be her turn to wait up on Sonny.
Sonny met up with an old friend from his last band, and they talked and had a good time for a while. And then things turned. Sonny and Travis ended up drinking way too much. Sonny didn't mind; he could drink his own weight in alcohol.
He wasn't even of legal drinking age- Sonny was only nineteen, but Travis had just turned twenty one and didn't mind sharing.
Then Travis had drugs.
Sonny wasn't even sure what kind of drugs, but all he knew was that the overwhelming weight of depression and anger was hanging over his head and Travis promised to make it go away.
And then he had bright blue pills in his palm, and Travis was smiling and Sonny wanted the feelings of it all to go away.
Sonny took two of the pills, and that was the last thing he remembered.
When he woke up in the backseat of Travis's car, he had no memory of the last day. Travis told him he was an absolutely boring drugee, and that he'd slept through the majority of the pills' effects.
Sonny went home, still tired and somewhat disgusted with himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what had happened.
When he walked into the apartment, what he saw didn't shock him, but just made the sick feeling in his stomach reappear.
Katherine- the beautiful, sweet, always charming and always flawless Katherine- and Adrian, together on the couch.
What more could Sonny expect?
The house key slipped out of his hand and made a loud sound on the floor. Katherine pulled herself away from Adrian, and she'd never looked so much like what she truly was, in her lacy underwear with her blonde hair messed up.
Katherine started to say something, but Sonny shook his head.
She's a whore. Sonny thought to himself, and for some reason the thought wasn't new. He already knew it. But why did he feel so much like crying? Looking at the perfect couple, caught in the act, neither looking nearly sorry enough to please Sonny, he felt like bursting into tears.
He left the key to the apartment on the floor, and he slammed the door when he left. He ran down the flight of stairs, almost slipping twice, tears blinding his vision.
How stupid he must've looked, standing there, pale and ugly and weird, looking at that couple from the story books.
Sonny had no one to call, and nowhere else to go. He just roughly turned the key in the ignition and started driving.
Nineteen years old, and as good as dead from that point on.
He thought of calling someone. But who? Who would even care? He called Travis, on a second thought.
"Aw, dude." Travis's slow voice sounded slightly sympathetic on the other line. Mostly he just sounded stoned. "But she was always a whore, man."
"Where are you?" Sonny ignored Travis.
"I don't even know, man." Travis laughed heavily on the other end. "I don't know. But it's pretty cool."
"Never mind." Sonny choked out, hanging up the phone and throwing it into the passenger's seat. He haphazardly wiped his eyes on his sleeve and kept driving.
When he glanced over at his phone laying in the seat, he saw something blue. He reached over.
The pills.
There were two more right there. How? Sonny didn't know, and didn't care. He thought hard about taking them, and he kept them in his palm for at least half an hour. Then, he tossed them out the window.
Sonny wanted to get far away. He remembered driving up the pass and sitting in his car for at least a day and crying his eyes out.
And then a week later, after drinking himself half to death and almost getting seriously hurt in three separate car/motor vehicle/alcohol related incidents, he got his act together. As best as he could. But for the first time, Sonny was trying.
Katherine moved out. Sonny went back to the apartment and was left to wallow in the memories and overwhelming scent of cheap perfume that she'd left behind.
He'd never felt more alone.
Then, a week later, she'd come back to the now trashed, cold apartment.
And… well, Sonny had lost it by then.
Sonny shook himself out of the memory, wiping his eyes in the sterile darkness of his hospital room. He heard a knock on his door. He shook his hair into his eyes to hide his tears and stood up. He opened the door slightly, and was shocked by who stood there.
"Matt?"
"Are you alright? I mean, I know I had no right to follow you and everything, but you seemed upset and I thought it was my fault…" The look of concern on Matt's gorgeous face made Sonny melt. He leaned against the door and sighed, looking down.
"Um… yeah."
"You sure? You've been crying." Matt said softly.
"No."
"Sonny." Matt whispered. He looked up.
"Yeah?"
"You wanna talk about it?"
"You don't know me."
"No. But since I saw you that first day in your room I can't stop thinking about you." Matt admitted. Sonny's heart stopped.
"What?" His blood ran cold as Matt reached up to lightly brush Sonny's fingers where they gripped the edge of the door tightly. Sonny flushed and moved his hand.
"Sonny. I know you're going through a lot. I can see that. But I just… I want to help."
"You don't know me." Sonny whispered, but he didn't have as much conviction as the first time. Matt's fingers were brushing against Sonny's again as he leaned close to whisper in Sonny's ear.
"I'm sorry, Sonny."
"Please… just-" Sonny struggled to breathe. He stepped back into the doorway, away from Matt, and shivered at the idea that Matt wanted to be close to him. "Just go." Sonny breathed. He held his palm on the door to shut it.
"I'm sorry…"
"It's okay. I… I'll see you later, okay?" Sonny whispered. Matt nodded once.
Sonny shut the door and kicked off his beat up sneakers. He shut his eyes and imagined the way Matt's cold hands felt. Katherine crept into his mind again. Her hands were always hot, urgent. Matt's were ice cold and soft and gentle.
Sonny curled up underneath the white sheets and tried to get warm. But his hand, where Matt had touched him twice, remained cold.
The next morning, Sonny got up and out of his bed before the nurse ever even came in.
It was four am.
He instantly regretted leaving the room: right as he stepped out and turned to the left, he saw Matt, sitting in the waiting area and staring at the wall with a look of angst.
Matt looked up at Sonny, but didn't fake a smile.
"Hi."
"Hi." Sonny replied, and he was embarrassed to realize that he already couldn't breathe in the presence of Matt.
"Come sit down, Sonny." Matt sighed. Sonny hesitantly sat next to him. Matt sighed again, and before Sonny could ask, he said, "She's dying."
"What?"
"My sister. She's been in the hospital for a month. She's dying, Sonny."
"Oh my God, I… I'm so sorry… I…" Sonny wanted to show his sympathy as much as he felt it, but he couldn't find the words.
"She was attacked by a gang member with a knife. She was stabbed. Twice. Who stabs a helpless teenage girl? Not once but twice. Who, Sonny? Who does that?"
"The same guy who attacked me." Sonny gasped.
"What?" Sonny explained that he was attacked and cut. Seven times. Matt apologized. Sonny told him it was okay. But of course it wasn't.
Matt told Sonny how much he loved his little sister Sam. She was only sixteen.
Matt was twenty now.
How convenient for Sonny, right? Sonny couldn't help but think of how perfect Matt was, taller and prettier and cooler than Sonny. But still… so much to say to each other.
Matt was clearly frustrated and angry. So was Sonny. They sat and talked about it for a long time. Sonny felt better. So did Matt.
Sonny told him the truth. The whole truth. Matt didn't judge him, even when Sonny showed Matt his arms. Without the bandages.
Then they sat in silence, no longer strangers, but still not knowing each other long enough to be much else.
After a while, Matt leaned close to Sonny and whispered to him.
"Come with me, Sonny." Matt breathed. Sonny's heart skipped several beats and he struggled to keep his breathing under control.
Katherine. Sonny thought, as Matt's hand brushed his knee. Sonny shook the thought of her away as Matt's greenish blue eyes locked with his.
Sonny bit his lip and Matt reached for his hand.
"Sonny," Matt soothed when Sonny flinched away. "I'm not going to hurt you." Katherine, Sonny reminded himself as he let Matt slip his hand into his. Sonny shut his eyes for a second and wished her away.
Matt stood and pulled Sonny up with him. Sonny tried hard to stop thinking.
"Where?" Sonny asked quietly. Matt hushed him and walked into one of the dark offices around the waiting room.
"Sonny." Matt said softly as Sonny shut the door behind them. The darkness wasn't pitch black, but Sonny wasn't sure where the light came from, but it illuminated the room just enough.
Sonny's hands were somehow on Matt's shoulders, and Matt was leaning down to place a soft kiss on Sonny's cheek. Sonny naturally shied away, but Matt told him it was okay and he stopped panicking.
"Matt… please…" Sonny breathed. Matt placed gentle kisses on Sonny's neck. Sonny forced himself to shut his eyes. "Make me forget her."
And then Sonny grabbed Matt's face in his hands and kissed him. Matt was surprised. He hadn't been sure that Sonny was interested in guys at all before. And now, he guessed, it didn't really matter.
It didn't matter to either of them if they even thought about boys, or why they were even doing it, or that they'd never done this before. It only mattered that they both needed to forget. They were desperate.
Matt pressed himself closer to Sonny, opened his mouth against Sonny's and twisted his fingers in his longish black hair. He heard Sonny moan, and pushed him against the wall, holding him there with his hips.
Matt remembered the way Sonny had looked at him the first time he ever saw him. Scared, confused, maybe nervous. But those big brown eyes had caught Matt's attention way back then, and now Sonny was all his for the taking.
Matt had never wanted anyone so badly. He didn't know what to do and he felt like he couldn't control himself. He slid his hand up the back of Sonny's shirt and felt Sonny get frantic.
"Sh." He told Sonny, and after a second Sonny turned and pushed Matt up against the wall, running his hands down Matt's sides. Matt had never been so affected by someone's touch before. Matt breathed his name into Sonny's ear and kissed him again.
Sonny tried to push Katherine out of his mind and kissed Matt again, different, more dirty. He pushed Matt back, the two of them stumbling into a desk and knocking some sort of book to the ground.
Matt gasped and struggled to keep up with Sonny. Sonny shoved his hand up Matt's shirt and at first Matt was confused and then a little hesitant. Then Sonny started to pull up Matt's shirt, and Matt grabbed his wrist lightly.
"Stop," Matt breathed against Sonny's mouth. "You can't…" He couldn't catch his breath, no matter how hard he tried. He placed his palm on Sonny's chest to keep him away. "Just… stop."
"Oh my God." Sonny said. His voice seemed loud, because the loudest sound Matt had heard for at least five minutes was when they'd accidentally knocked the book off of the desk.
Sonny looked horrified, and he pushed Matt's hand away, covering his own mouth, and stepped back.
He bumped into the bookshelf again, and a book clattered to the floor. Sonny's breathing was heavy but at the same time he couldn't get enough air.
"Sonny…" Matt struggled to speak, in shock at what had actually happened. He smoothed the front of his T shirt, but it made no difference; they both knew where Sonny's hands had already been. Matt felt violated.
Sonny was disgusted with himself.
"Oh my God, Matt." Sonny repeated, and he put his hands over his face, saying it a few more times, sounding more choked up every time.
"Sonny, please just… it's… okay…"
"Oh… my… God." Sonny said again, shaking his head. His black hair fell into his pale face, but Matt could see that he was crying.
"Don't cry, Sonny." Matt soothed, reaching out for him, but then pulling away. He didn't know what to do. It was his fault.
"She used to tell me that. She used to ask me softly, nicely not to cry. She used to beg me to stop." Sonny whispered, sobbing but still saying everything clearly.
"Sonny. Please just… it's okay…" Matt felt horrible.
"I swore. I would never love anyone ever again. Matt. I can't do this."
"Do what?"
"I can't do this with you." Sonny tried to express how he felt. But the hurt registered on Matt's gorgeous face and Sonny realized what it sounded like. "No, I-"
"I get it. You don't want to."
"Matt." Sonny sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking at the older, gorgeous boy in front of him.
"I understand. I'm not good enough to hook up with in a hospital office. Of course." Matt was frustrated and annoyed. He should've seen it coming. It was his fault, anyways. This poor boy was hung up on a beautiful girl who'd torn his heart out and eaten it alive.
Why would a random, sad boy mean anything to Sonny? And a boy, at that. Sonny probably wasn't even gay. Matt felt like an idiot and a jerk.
"I'm sorry, Sonny. I didn't really give you an option… I just… did it. I'm so sorry."
"I kissed you, Matt. It's… my fault." Sonny whispered back.
"Sonny. Did you… want to?"
"Do this?"
"Yes."
"I followed you, didn't I? If I didn't want you, I wouldn't have locked myself in a dark room with you. I wouldn't have… done that." Sonny told him.
"Sonny… please. If I do something that's not okay, just tell me to stop."
"It's okay, Matt. I'm fine. It's just… I… Katherine."
"I know." Matt whispered. It didn't need to be said.
Katherine would always be on Sonny's mind. She would always get between them. As long as Sonny thought she owned him.