"You busy?" Fulton asked as he dropped into a chair across from me in the library.
I shook my head. It was too hard to concentrate on anything while all this crap was going on.
"You ok?" he asked, emptying his book bag.
I shrugged. I didn't have words anymore.
He looked at me for a long
time before frowning. "This isn't good, Banks."
I snorted. "Yes it is. It's peachy fuckin' keen."
"You know what I mean. Look at what this is doing to you."
I sighed. "I know, Fulton. But it's not as though I can wave a magic wand and make the Ducks accept me."
"Why do you like Charlie?"
It was a question that was not only surprising, but completely dumbfounding.
"What do you mean?" I asked him.
Fulton shrugged. "I mean, why do you like him? What is it about him that makes him so great?"
I took a deep breath. "I like him because when he smiles at me, it's genuine. Because he seems to care about my well-being. Because he's a different person when he's just with me. Because he's the nicest, most amazing person I've ever known."
I blushed and looked down, my hands nervously fiddling with my backpack.
"Do you love him?"
I looked up. "Yeah. I do."
I felt tears well up behind my eyes, the emotion and pain that the last week had been full of finally bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over. I hated this feeling. I hated being weak. It reminded me too much of my freshmen year.
It felt like I was being stabbed, repeatedly in the heart. I just wanted it all to end.
"I really love him, Fulton."
I heard a chair scrape back behind me and I looked around. And if I thought the Gods hated me enough, I was wrong. Because there was Charlie, a horrified look on his face, his hands clenching the back of his chair so hard that his knuckles were white.
"Charlie, wait—" I began. But I didn't have a chance to say anything else before Charlie ran towards the exit and flew down the stairs.
"God, what more can go wrong?" I muttered, putting my head down on the table, sighing deeply.
**
~|~ Tuesday, 1:32
You'd think after being horribly embarrassed by the first journal I wrote, that I'd give up on the idea, right? Well, I guess this one is different. Completely hand written, and if need be, I'll staple it to my leg so no one can get their hands on it.
Where to start? Where to begin? I don't even know what day is it. Seriously, I just sat for 10 minutes trying to think what day it was. I'm not even sure it's Tuesday.
It's quiet here in the library, and it's oddly comforting. I'm supposed to be at a hockey game in 20 minutes,, but I don't know if I'm going to go..
I'm depressed.
I'm gay and depressed. I have no friends, and I just want to fade away. I'm thinking about going home, but then, that means I have to be cajoled by my mother into doing stupid things like playing tennis and going to the Country Club. I think I'd rather stay in school and have everyone avoid me.
I'm officially a leper to everyone except Fulton, Julie, Portman, Kenny and Goldberg. Even though I haven't seen Portman since the "intervention". Charlie doesn't even look at me anymore. I would rather him look at me and hate me rather than not look at me at all. It hurts beyond belief. I never knew writing my feelings down would fuck my life up like this.
All this reminds me when I was sick. I mentioned that, didn't I? My freshmen year…all that crap…God, I feel the same way I did when I cut…~|~
|FLASHBACK|
"You coming Banks?" Guy asked me, hiking his backpack over his shoulder.
I shook my head. "No, I need to study."
He shrugged and left our room, leaving me to quietly ponder my pitiful excuse for a life.
It probably didn't help I was listening to REM on my discman.
"Everybody hurts…sometimes…" I warbled off-key, tears rolling down my cheeks as I lay facing the wall. The bland, off-white wall. The wall that just seemed to convey my lack of life, I was the wall.
I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to drown out the sounds of kids having fun on the quad that streamed in my open window. Closing it just took too much energy. And I had no energy left. Not to do anything, and not to live.
I fumbled around in my beside table drawer and my hand closed around something hard and plastic.
I pulled the switchblade out of my draw and lay flat on my back. I'd seen it so many times before, but each new time I got it out of my draw, it's power seemed to take a hold over me.
I clicked the blade out an inch or two, and pulled the old gauze off my left wrist. It's funny, I've done this so many times, and it doesn't even hurt anymore.
I pressed the cool steel to my skin and grit my teeth as it sliced through my wrist. Blood oozed from the fresh wound and I watched it trail down my wrist. It was mesmerizing. The way the blood left a horrible path or red down my arm reminded me just how messed I was. But it felt strangely better. Better than living, better than being with my friends, better than everything. While I held that knife, I was in control.
I placed the blade to my wrist again and again, until there was so much blood that I couldn't see the incisions. I'd gone too far.
I swallowed hard and grabbed a box of tissues, wrapping them around my bleeding wrist. Tears were falling from my eyes. I didn't want to die. But the pain I caused myself felt better than the pain the world caused me.
I panicked as I wrapped a towel around my wrist, my t-shirt stained with blood. I threw open the door to my room and rushed down the hall. I must have been a sight, covered in blood and running like a maniac.
But I made it to the infirmary, just as I started to get dizzy. I passed out in the reception area.
|END FLASHBACK|
God, thinking about all of that makes me sick. I was so stupid back then.
I don't want to write anymore. I guess I should go to the game. My parents would be real impressed if I not only told them I was gay, but that I was kicked out of school for not living up to what's expected of me.
-Adam D. Banks
**
"Change it up!"
I threw my body over the wooden barrier and hit the ice skating. Literally. I'd put my all into this game, I didn't want to have to think about anything else.
I skated hard and took the puck from a North Cat player and skated towards our goal. Not thinking, just skating, aiming for a goal.
But I didn't make it. Something slammed at me from my right side and I went down like a bag of crap. Literally.
All I knew was that my wrist pounded and I was dizzy.
"Banks! You ok?" Fulton asked, standing over me.
I pulled my glove off my right wrist and nearly passed out. Already it was a technicolour shade of purples, greens and blues. It was broken, it was obvious.
"Coach!" Fulton called. "This doesn't look good!"
Fulton pulled my helmet off and I lay my sweaty head back on the ice, the world spinning around me.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," Coach Orion muttered as he stood over me. It was after that I blacked out.
**
"Mother of God…" I muttered, my throat parched and my lips dry. "Water."
"Banks, holy shit, you're awake."
I opened my eyes. "Hey Portman," I said softly. "Water."
He turned around and got something and put it to my lips. Refreshing water.
"How do you feel?" Julie asked from the other side of my bed.
"Like crap," I said, trying to smile.
She squeezed my left wrist reassuringly.
"How bad is it?" I asked them.
"We should get the doctor," Fulton put in, standing up and ushering the three of them out of my room.
A while later, a middle-aged man came into the room, a solemn expression on his face.
"It's broken, isn't it?" I asked him.
"I'm afraid so," he said, looking over pieces of paper in his hands. "Hairline fracture. No hockey for 12 weeks, to give it enough time to properly heal."
I didn't say anything, there wasn't anything to say. Was I glad I didn't have to see my friends for 12 weeks? Yes. Was I glad I didn't have to go to any practices? Yes. Was I glad that my life was slowly falling apart…No.
I just wanted to take some time and thank each and every one of you that has reviewed this story! It's such an amazing feeling to login and see reviews in my mailbox!
SuperSteph: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reviewing both this fic, and 'After The Deluge'. It's a huge charge to be recognized for something I'm so proud of.
RasberrieSundae: I'm glad you like my dialogue flow, and I was really hesitant about posting this fic…being my first attempt at slash.
Crazy4nc128: Where do you get off commenting? :P You're practically my inspiration to write slash! So, I should be loving you for writing such amazing fics like 'Realization', and 'Us Against The World'!
Anne918: Thanks for reviewing! I'm quite fond of the shower scene too!
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