I am so sorry! I didn't want to leave it this long, I actually had this chapter all planned out and everything since the end of the previous one. And I thought I would have it up in a week, not, like, two months later. So, I'm incredibly sorry for that! I'm going to try and not let it happen again!
Anywhooo, this chapter is back to Alan's P.O.V :)
Virgil's plan hadn't been the, uh, best of 'Virgil's Plans.' Especially in my eyes. He had this crazy idea, that if I wore myself out enough during the day, I'd be too tired to think of any self-destructive, self-hate, self-negativity and I'd be on the road to recovery.
But, the truth was, with all the hardship I was going through now, it just made me wonder why I even bothered.
"Let's go!" Virgil called, a shit-eating grin stuck to his face as he jogged along behind me, the sand kicking up at his feet. "We're going to make it to that tree, in a minute."
I panted, looking up in the direction he had gestured too, and almost cried out in horror. Said tree was a good distance away, to the point where I could barely see it, and reaching it in a minute just didn't seem possible, maybe an hour.
"Come on, Al!" Scott, who was jogging just a little ahead of me, glanced over his shoulder, grinning back at me as I hurried to catch up. The strain in my calf muscles was beyond recognition as I stumbled after him, Virgil right behind me.
"Hurry it up, Sprout!" Virgil urged, picking up his pace and almost passing me, but he didn't, he just jogged by my side, urging me to quicken my pace.
And I really didn't want too. I just wanted to fall down and sleep. This was excruciating work.
"You know the other best part of this?" Virgil offered as I finally managed to pick up my pace a little, my legs trembling as I shot through the sand, Virgil easily keeping up. "Exercise is a great anti-depressant. Which means you should be feeling better despite the turmoil and pain in your body right now."
I was partly tempted to scream at him, to tell him to shut up, but that wouldn't get me anywhere, and I was actually finding slight comfort in his voice that kept charging different words at me.
"We're nearly there, Alan!" Scott called over his shoulder, and I didn't want to be the one to point out that it had been about five minutes.
"Can... We... Stop?" I panted as we finally made it to the tree, my legs feeling like jello as they shook angrily.
"Come on, we made it this far, and we've nearly lapped the entire island, just a little further."
"No," I gasped, but my legs ran on their own accord, somehow managing to keep my between my brothers as they continued to run. They didn't look nearly as exhausted as myself. Scott had his chest high, his arms pumping by his sides as he ran beside me, a bit of sweat trickling down the side of his face, and Virgil looked just as good, although his was sweating a lot more than Scott - although less than me.
I inhaled a ragged breath as I finally saw the house, towering up over a few trees. Not far now.
We came to the path that lead up to the swimming pool, and I was just about to stop, thinking that I had made it now, and I could walk the rest of the way, but Virgil and Scott both hooked their arms under mine, hauling me along and up the pathway.
Gordon was in the pool, surprise surprise, and when he spotted us, he grinned and pushed himself out. Scott and Virgil finally released my arms, and I all but collapsed onto the ground, breathing in hurriedly as Virgil and Scott just ruffled my hair, before stripping themselves of their shirts and jumping into the water.
"Let's get you inside," Gordon murmured, wrapping his arm around me, as if to help me up, but I shook my head hurriedly. I needed a rest, just a small rest.
Gordon sighed, but allowed me to stay there for a moment longer. I took the moment to look down at my bandaged wrists, not quite feeling the same urge I had felt before whenever I had the same chance to sit down and just think.
In fact, I couldn't even bare the thought right now. Just something that wasn't resting seemed awful to me.
I tucked my wrists against my stomach as I continued to breathe in and out slowly.
I finally glanced up at Gordon, who was staring at me a slight glint in his eyes.
"Are you ready to go inside, now?" He asked, offering his hand.
I grimaced, taking his hand allowing him to pull me to my feet. I followed him inside, moving to the kitchen, where John and our dad were cooking breakfast.
"How was the run?" Dad asked, serving up six plates of bacon, eggs, toast and cooked mushrooms.
"Okay," I murmured as I slid into my seat, watching as Gordon grabbed a towel from the washing basket, earning a fustrated look from John, who set out all the plates before calling for Virgil and Scott.
I sat there, waiting for everyone to seat themselves, and this time, Gordon and John both sat beside me, while dad sat opposite me, Scott and Virgil on either side of reached forward, taking Virgil's hand and Scott's, and John and Gordon both took mine, John's thumb running across my scarred wrist gently as Gordon's hand tightened around mine. I didn't close my eyes like the rest of my family, as they all sent out a thanks. Instead,I looked at each of them carefully.
Scott was sitting, his back straight as his hands clenched around our fathers and Gordon's. His lips opened as a small thanks dribbled out, reaching to the high heavens. His brow was furrowed and his dark hair messed up from the water, but that didn't stop me from noticing the little dimple below his left eye. It only ever appeared when he was stressed or anxious.
Beside him, with his hand holding mine just as tightly, was Gordon with his own messy hair, which formed as a curtain to his face as he ducked his head down slightly. He wasn't as waggish when it came to praying. He was always stern and silent, allowing his thoughts to process for a single, most valuable moment.
I turned my head to John, who's grip was so much lighter and gentle, his platinum blonde hair flat against his head as his mouth opened just a fraction, allowing himself to breathe. John was a thinker when it came to this, he didn't find the need to verbalize anything. He was intellectual, and his mind was a wonderous place.
Next to him, with a grip that looked hard and firm, but I knew from several years of being prodded by worried medic hands, that the grip was actually quite loose and gentle, delicate from the many years of playing the piano, from the skillful flicks of swiping a paintbrush across a canvas. Virgil, sat with his back straight, his head held high, and his shoulders back. He always managed to look more lithe and delicate than John and myself sometimes, but once out on the field, that easily changed out on the field. He was ranked as the strongest brother, right next to Scott, and he took pride in being able to help strength-wise on the field.
However, now was not the time to be looking at that. I could see the way Virgil's jaw tensed as he shut his mouth, the way his teeth clicked with a barely audible sound. He was just as stressed as Scott.
In fact, all my brothers were.
Gordon wouldn't normally hold my hand this tight, usually he'd wiggle his fingers against mine, trying to usher a laugh from my throat, when he knew we would both get in trouble afterward. And John's hand was not usually this gentle, and with the repeated flick of his finger over my wrist, it just showed how preoccupied he really was.
Finally, I set my gaze on my father.
His hair was slicked back, showing the lines that drew his face into one of worry.
And it was all my fault. I wasn't the perfect son he needed, I wasn't the brother they wanted. I really wasn't. And they might try to make it better now, but when they believed I was all bubble wrapped and fine again, they'd go straight back to the old pattern.
I'd never be free of this turmoil that raced through my head, I'd never escape the feverous heat that blinded my body when I really needed to release myself of this pain.
"Alan?"
I snapped my head up, noticing that everyone was staring at me now. My breath caught in my throat, and I clenched my hands around Gordon and John's, not noticing that I was the only one still holding on.
"I-" My jaw shut and I shook my head, drawing my hands to my chest, "sorry."
"Alan-"
"Let's eat," I mumbled, grabbing for my fork with shaking hands.
"Stop."
I blinked, glancing up at our father slowly. His brow furrowed as he looked at me, his gaze lingering across my wrists. He shook his head slowly, as if refusing something in his own mind, as he stood up slowly, pushing the chair back.
My brothers were all staring at him too, now.
"Gordon, swap with me."
"But, dad-!"
"Gordon."
"Fine," Gordon grumbled. He stood up, picking up his plate as he trotted around to dads seat, as dad moved to his. Sitting down next to me, he turned and tugged my hands into his lap, looking at me sternly.
"Boys, feel free to begin."
My brothers didn't need to be told twice, they took the hint and instantly started chatting amongst themselves, scooping food into their mouthes as they did so.
"Alan," I looked up at my father as he rested his hand over my wrists gently. "Don't think about it. Understand? Don't. It'll only make it worse."
"I-" I sucked in a breath through my teeth before continuing, "I can't help it. It's been apart of- of me for so long." I only realised that that was the wrong thing to say, after I had said it.
"How long..." My dad stopped, and I felt his thumb run across my cheek, taking a tear I hadn't even realised I released, away. "How long has it been going on?"
I shrugged, staring at my lap carefully.
"Okay," he breathed, leaning forward to kiss my temple, "eat up. I think Virgil has the right idea, don't you?"
I didn't reply. Didn't see the need too. I just wanted to stop feeling this worthless.
I've decided to expand it from what I was originally going to do. I've had a whole wave of other ideas over these past two months, and I've had to choose which path to go with, carefully. Hopefully my next update will be sooner than last time!
