Never Leave Me
James didn't know what to do with himself. He felt like his whole world had been ripped away from him. Annabelle was dead. She had died from cancer. Gil had called and told him the news two days ago. Ever since then, James had locked himself up in his room and hadn't come out. Raven, Christian and Gangrel were all trying to get in, but he didn't let them anywhere near him. They didn't know about Annabelle, and he didn't want to talk about her. He was having enough problems with all the thinking he was doing. She had never called to say she was sick. He hadn't even spoken to her in years. The last time they had spoken, she told him that she was pregnant with Jeff and she ended their freaky relationship. That had hurt, but not as badly as this did. Now that she was dead, it meant that they were never going to reconcile and she probably died still hating him.
Someone knocked on the door but he didn't answer it. He just plopped down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He had never noticed it before, but the room was way too fucking small for him. Why was it so small? It was making it hard for him to breathe. He began to hyperventilate, and he started pulling on the collar of his shirt, freaking out even more when it didn't make it easier to breathe. Annabelle's dead. She's dead. She's going to rot in the ground and never come back. She's dead she's dead she's dead she's dead…
Someone knocked on the door again, doing it even harder this time. "James Paul Lawson, you open this door right now!" Mark shouted. "I mean it!"
James frowned. When did Mark get back? Who had called him back? He had left a few months ago. Their fighting had reached a pretty bad point so Mark just said to hell with James and left. It had hurt really bad to be abandoned, but James had been hiding that fact. He hadn't wanted anyone else to know that fact, and as far as he had known, he had managed to keep that hidden from the others.
The door was violently kicked open all of a sudden and in came Mark. "What the hell have you been doing in here?" he growled. "The others have not stopped calling me for two days now. They keep saying that you've locked yourself away and they hear you yelling and screaming at all hours at the night. I have half a mind to take my foot and shove it up your--"
"Annabelle's dead," James said dully.
That stopped Mark's rant in its tracks. He shut the door and stared at James like he had grown a second head. "Can you repeat that for me?"
"Annabelle's dead," James said again. "She died of brain cancer." He chuckled humorlessly. "I didn't even know she was sick. Some twin brother I am, huh?"
Mark just continued to stare at him for a little bit longer before walking over and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You never told the others about her?"
"Why would I do that? It's not their fucking business."
"Good point." Mark studied James carefully. "You going to be okay?"
James snorted. "My fucking sister just died and you're really asking me that right now?"
Mark shrugged. "Isn't that what I should ask you?"
James didn't know what to say. Hell if he knew. "I don't know anymore," he admitted. "I'm not actually good at this whole thing. I'm the one who's killing everyone and not giving a damn about it. Actually feeling bad about someone dying is kind of new, although I have to say that I really don't like it."
Mark almost chuckled. "Yeah, I don't think you're supposed to." He made a little grunting noise when James decided to use his lap as a pillow, but he didn't shove James away though. "Are you going to the funeral?"
"No," James replied. "Gil doesn't want me there. He said they never told the boys about me and he doesn't want me near them. And Annabelle wouldn't want me near them either."
"Fuck what they want," Mark said. "Annabelle can't do a thing to stop you and neither can Gil. If you want to go, we'll go."
James considered that. He knew that Mark had a good point. Gil didn't control him and it wasn't like Annabelle could scream at him for going. But the funeral seemed to be the least appealing place he could possibly go. If he went to the funeral, then it would all be real. She would really be gone then. "No," he finally said. "I can't go there. I don't want to go and you can't make me."
"I never said I was going to make you," Mark replied. "Fuck, don't get your panties in a bunch."
James pouted. "I am not wearing panties you dumbass." He adjusted his head just a little bit. "Your pants aren't that comfortable to lay on. They actually kind of hurt."
Mark grunted. "I think that has more to do with the gigantic gash on the side of your head."
James frowned. Gigantic gash? He sat up and touched the side of his head. Yup, he had a gash right there on the side of his head. He could even feel the dry blood there. When the hell had he gotten that? He tried to think back, but the time period between finding out about Annabelle's death and Mark's arrival was all running together. Maybe he bashed the side of his head against the wall sometime during then. He did that when he got really mad or upset about something, so it was a likely possibility.
Mark patted him on the shoulder. "You need me to do anything for you?" He sounded like a genuinely concerned person, which was just very, very odd. Then again, this had been a really odd couple of days for James, so he really didn't think too much about it.
"Stay with me?" James said hopefully. "Don't leave again?"
Mark sighed. "Sure. Anything for you."
They both knew it was an empty promise. Things would be okay again for awhile, but they would eventually fall apart again. The relationship was just so combustible that it was bound to happen. Maybe someday they would get their happy ending, but it wouldn't be this time. That's what James wanted to happen someday anyway. And now that he had lost Annabelle for good, he was more determined than ever to make sure he got what he wanted from now on.
