Empty
Andrew's hands were shaking, so he hid them in his pockets. He tried to keep the bile rising from his stomach from entering his mouth, but that was almost more of a challenge than he could handle.
There was Xander. Alexander LaVelle Harris, lying in a hospital bed with a patch over his eye. Perhaps the proper term was where his eye used to be. Nothing was there anymore. Now it was an empty socket, devoid of the warm, chocolately brown eye that had formerly resided there. Kind of like how Andrew felt.
His heart was screaming as he sat in the chair next to the white-sheeted bed in the white room with white walls and ceilings and floor tiles with white-clad orderlies bustling in and out. A single tear made its way down his too pale cheek. He almost couldn't look.
The idea of Xander in so much pain made him want to wretch. Xander was so nice and kind and understanding, plus he knew his fair shair about Star Trek, one of Andrew's passions. He didn't deserve this.
'I do," his mind whispered.
He knew he deserved punishment he'd never received. He'd hurt people, killed the closest thing he had to a friend, to a brother. He'd loved a murderer. That murderer had never loved him back, but that didn't matter. Andrew had loved him to the end still did deep down inside. He had a stupid tendency to fall in love with people he shouldn't.
Hence Xander. Andrew sighed and played with the hem of the sheet, wondering what to do. Xander was asleep and even if he were awake, what would Andrew say?
His hair looked soft. It always looked soft and Andrew always wanted to touch it, but he was afraid to ask and now Xander was laying immobile in a bed...
Hesitant fingers moved up and slowly moved through the dark brown locks. It was even softer than Andrew imagined. He smiled softly. He nearly jerked away when Xander sighed and nuzzled his head, but he relaxed. Swallowing, he stared at Xander's lips. He wondered what they felt like, what they tasted like. He had no idea. He had never kissed anyone. No one had ever *wanted* to kiss him.
'Maybe...' thought Andrew, but he shook his head. It was a stupid idea and it was rude to Xander.
So why couldn't he stop himself from slightly rising from his seat to look down at him. He leaned down as his eyes slid shut. It was the gentlest brushing of lips possible, but it seared Andrew's skin and made him ache while yearning for more.
But he could never have more. And he knew that. He still couldn't figure out why he did this to himself.
He stood up straight and turned to leave, but froze when he saw a figure standing slightly inside the door, staring at him with confusion. Spike.
Andrew froze, wringing the hem of his leaves in his white-knuckled fingers.
"D-... Don't tell him," he whispered hoarsely, "Please don't tell him. I don't want anyone else to hate me."
Spike was silent and still be for he just nodded and muttered, "Your secret is safe with me, kid."
Andrew let out a weak smile before he began fidgetting nervously andshifting his weight between feet.
Spike scoffed and shook his head, "Let's get you home, you stupid little bugger."
Nodding, Andrew scurried out of the room. Spike stayed behind a moment and stared at the prostrate for of Xander. Poor guy. He always seemed to attract the loony ones. He turned and followed the smaller boy and idly wondered how long it would take Xander to figure out why the little guy was always staring at him. Xander always was oblivious when it came to his admirers.
END
Andrew's hands were shaking, so he hid them in his pockets. He tried to keep the bile rising from his stomach from entering his mouth, but that was almost more of a challenge than he could handle.
There was Xander. Alexander LaVelle Harris, lying in a hospital bed with a patch over his eye. Perhaps the proper term was where his eye used to be. Nothing was there anymore. Now it was an empty socket, devoid of the warm, chocolately brown eye that had formerly resided there. Kind of like how Andrew felt.
His heart was screaming as he sat in the chair next to the white-sheeted bed in the white room with white walls and ceilings and floor tiles with white-clad orderlies bustling in and out. A single tear made its way down his too pale cheek. He almost couldn't look.
The idea of Xander in so much pain made him want to wretch. Xander was so nice and kind and understanding, plus he knew his fair shair about Star Trek, one of Andrew's passions. He didn't deserve this.
'I do," his mind whispered.
He knew he deserved punishment he'd never received. He'd hurt people, killed the closest thing he had to a friend, to a brother. He'd loved a murderer. That murderer had never loved him back, but that didn't matter. Andrew had loved him to the end still did deep down inside. He had a stupid tendency to fall in love with people he shouldn't.
Hence Xander. Andrew sighed and played with the hem of the sheet, wondering what to do. Xander was asleep and even if he were awake, what would Andrew say?
His hair looked soft. It always looked soft and Andrew always wanted to touch it, but he was afraid to ask and now Xander was laying immobile in a bed...
Hesitant fingers moved up and slowly moved through the dark brown locks. It was even softer than Andrew imagined. He smiled softly. He nearly jerked away when Xander sighed and nuzzled his head, but he relaxed. Swallowing, he stared at Xander's lips. He wondered what they felt like, what they tasted like. He had no idea. He had never kissed anyone. No one had ever *wanted* to kiss him.
'Maybe...' thought Andrew, but he shook his head. It was a stupid idea and it was rude to Xander.
So why couldn't he stop himself from slightly rising from his seat to look down at him. He leaned down as his eyes slid shut. It was the gentlest brushing of lips possible, but it seared Andrew's skin and made him ache while yearning for more.
But he could never have more. And he knew that. He still couldn't figure out why he did this to himself.
He stood up straight and turned to leave, but froze when he saw a figure standing slightly inside the door, staring at him with confusion. Spike.
Andrew froze, wringing the hem of his leaves in his white-knuckled fingers.
"D-... Don't tell him," he whispered hoarsely, "Please don't tell him. I don't want anyone else to hate me."
Spike was silent and still be for he just nodded and muttered, "Your secret is safe with me, kid."
Andrew let out a weak smile before he began fidgetting nervously andshifting his weight between feet.
Spike scoffed and shook his head, "Let's get you home, you stupid little bugger."
Nodding, Andrew scurried out of the room. Spike stayed behind a moment and stared at the prostrate for of Xander. Poor guy. He always seemed to attract the loony ones. He turned and followed the smaller boy and idly wondered how long it would take Xander to figure out why the little guy was always staring at him. Xander always was oblivious when it came to his admirers.
END