WARNING: Some course language and triggering events of suicidal thoughts/ actions. Please read at your own discretion.
Approximately five uncomfortable make out scenes and one crappy ending later, they were finally released from the theater.
"I was wrong, the plot was terrible," Gilbert said and Matthew rolled his eyes.
"What plot?" he joked.
Gilbert laughed, "Good one." He stopped by the trash and sipped on the last of his pop to finish it. Matthew watched some of the people walk out of the room they'd just exited. Mostly couples, quite a few of them looking like they'd had as much fun as the actors on screen.
And then his heart stopped as the next couple walked out.
"You know you enjoyed it, mon cher," Francis smiled, holding a blushing Arthur's hand.
"I did not. The movie was poorly executed," Arthur said, not even trying to break away.
Matthew pressed against the wall as they passed him, wide eyed. They didn't notice him at all.
"I wasn't talking about the movie," Francis grinned and Arthur blushed more, if possible.
"I know, frog. Just shut up about it here," Arthur said as they turned the corner and disappeared.
That was the moment when Matthew realized that he was his dad. And Gilbert was his Papa. He rested his head against the wall and tried to continue breathing. This was not okay. This was too weird. And now... Now he suddenly couldn't breathe. His chest tightened and he couldn't get any air in.
"Was that your parents?" Gilbert asked, having been silent that whole time. "Birdie? What's wrong? Look at me."
His clutched his chest, over his heart, as his vision slipped momentarily, and when he opened his eyes, Gilbert was holding him in his arms, shaking him gently.
"Gil," he whispered, breathing just fine now, "stop shaking me."
Gilbert stopped and stared at him in barely contained fear. "Birdie, you just fainted. What happened?"
"Fainted?" he asked and realized that Gil was sitting on the ground with him in his lap.
"I saw your parents walk by then you leaned against the wall and just dropped," Gilbert explained.
"Oh, um, it's nothing. Just a little shocked, I guess," Matthew said and attempted to get up. Gilbert helped him and he stayed standing, if a bit shaky.
"Are you sure?" he asked, holding onto him, "You fell earlier, too."
"I'm sure," Matthew said but wasn't sure of anything right now. Why had he fainted? It couldn't have been that much of a shock to see his parents at a movie like that.
"Let's just get you home," Gilbert said and started toward the exit. Matthew nodded and focused on not tripping over his own two feet, barely noticing the amount of people who were staring in wonder. Gilbert drove him back to his house and spent the day there, worrying over his well being. Other than tired, Matthew felt just fine.
Third hour came right before lunch. And for Matthew this usually meant wondering how little calories he could consume at lunch while still eating a "normalish" amount, as Gilbert called it. It was starting to become like a game. Decrease how much he ate at meal times and win the overall prize of lowest calorie intake for the day. Yay!
But today was different. He was in the dirty restrooms- it was becoming his new hide out spot- crying and blubbering and pinching at the taught skin on his stomach. Gilbert was there too, trying to console, pushing his arms away from his body. Matthew openly sobbed, half yelling and half choking, not sure if he wanted Gilbert to hug him or punch him in the face in rage.
And really, how did all of this go down? Well it goes back to the end of fourth hour. Matthew was having a tame day so far, not feeling too bad. He walked out of the class and someone bumped into him, almost knocking him over. Instead he fell into a group of girls walking down the crowded hall.
"Watch where you're going, fat ass!" the guy hurled an insult at him, not even caring how thin and fragile Matthew looked.
The girls squealed and one pushed him off, looking pissed, "Yeah, get off me, fat ass!" she said and the group of girls with her laughed, agreeing to please their leader.
"I-I'm sorry," Matthew whispered, over and over again, "sorry, sorry, sorry...:
The girls only huffed and continued on their merry way, the guy already gone. He felt tears in his eyes, and pressed back against a wall.
He barely noticed hands on his shoulders, eyes tightly closed as he tried not to cry. "Birdie, what's wrong?" Gilbert's voice cut through his ears.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again, the only thing he could think of to say.
"Sorry? For what?" Gilbert asked, holding onto his shoulders gently.
"I bumped into someone," he muttered, inhaling as he tried to breathe right and feeling an overwhelming sense of panic grip him.
He didn't know when he started walking but he felt his feet moving as Gilbert steered him down the still crowded hall. He watched the tile and his feet move below him, trying to stop his tears and panic. Then suddenly he was in the restrooms and Gilbert was talking to him but he couldn't hear.
Then his words flooded in, "What do you mean? What happened? You need to tell me, Birdie. And calm down... You're shaking. Here, calm down."
"I-I can't," he whispered. The bell rang, drowning out his gasp of pain as tears started falling. "Th-They called me fat."
"You're not-"
"Then why did they say it, Gil!?" he suddenly yelled, shaking and crying uncontrollably.
"Because they're jerks," Gilbert said, trying to hold him.
Matthew pushed him away and pinched at the taught skin of his stomach. "No, they're right!" he cried, "I'm fat! I'm fat and I don't want to be!"
"Birdie, calm down, you're getting too worked up over this," Gilbert said, pushing his hands away.
"Leave me alone! Just stop! You don't understand!" Matthew yelled and clenched his fists, feeling angry yet defeated.
And that's how this whole mess started.
Gilbert's arms fell now and he stared at Matthew sadly. "Maybe I'd understand if you told me."
Matthew shook his head. "You'll never understand. You can't because you're just like the rest of them!"
"What?" Gilbert asked, startled.
And if Matthew had any strings left in that moment, they had snapped. He would regret this later, but right now, he was far past regretting anything. "You heard me! Am I talking loud enough? I said you're just like them! You're an egotistical, narcissistic asshole! You don't even care about me, do you? You've just been playing me this whole time, like every jerk like you does! Why don't you go find some girl to hit it up with since you like any whore better than me!"
"Matthew, you don't mean that," Gilbert whispered, trying to make sense of the situation.
"I do! I don't want to see you ever again! I wish I'd never met you!" he seethed and punched Gilbert in the chest as hard as he could, which wasn't very hard.
Gilbert stepped back, a look of complete shock on his face. "You... You don't..." he covered his mouth with his hand and quickly fled out of he restroom before he could made things worse.
Matthew, feeling tired and deflated, slumped to the ground and continued crying. He was immensely angry at Gilbert. How dare he come in and ruin his perfectly fine life. Matthew felt his heart beating with hate, not just for him, but for everyone. And there was just enough hate leftover to hate himself.
He knew he couldn't just leave school, so after lunch he hauled himself to his next class. He had calmed down slightly, but not much, mentally calling Gilbert and every asshole who'd ever messed with him every swear word he knew. He didn't pay attention in any of his classes the rest of the day, thinking about hitting people with his hockey stick. He could smack that teasing smirk off of Gilbert's face. Maybe rearrange it to look more pleasing. That sounded like a good idea.
In sixth hour he purposely avoided looking at Gilbert, staring out the window the entire time. He quite liked this window. There was a tree that could be seen that was red with the autumn season. It was thick and tall with a branch low enough to the ground to climb on. He thought about ways to hurt people with that wonderful tree. Bash their head against the bark, push them out of it when they climbed high, shove a twig or two down their throat. He grinned maniacally at the thoughts, feeling Gilbert's eyes burning into the back of his head. But he refused to look.
He jogged home from school, fueled by his anger. He went straight to his room, flung his heavy backpack to the floor, and pulled out his notebook from under his bed. Time to vent his feelings in a more appropriate manner.
I knew I was stupid but how could I think I liked someone like him. He's no better than the rest. He wants to change me and "help" me but he only ever makes things worse. I hate him. I hate life. I hate myself. I really do. I should just end it all. Then I wouldn't have to feel like this any more. Then no one could push me around, I won't have to worry about how fat I am, I won't have to deal with Al or German jerk-face. But I'll have to destroy this thing before I go. I don't want anyone finding it. Or maybe I should leave this journal. Let everyone know how much I suffered. Maybe they'll realize what they had is now gone. It's their turn to suffer.
It's your turn to suffer! Especially you, Alfred Fucking Jones. I get constantly beat up because of you. I hope you're happy with yourself, you fat, hamburger loving, dumbass 5-year-old. Oh, and I can't leave out my "parents", now can I? If I can even call you idiots that. Arthur you're such a stupid tea loving Brit who doesn't even remember I exist most of the time. And Francis, my Papa. You forget about me too and you were my only friend I had growing up... rot in hell you bastards. I bet you didn't even want me. Al and I were just a package deal. We wouldn't be separated so you took me too. How heinous of you. You never wanted me because no one does. No one loves me. Not even my real parents loved me or wanted me. I bet that bear isn't even from my mom. It's probably from the social worker. Remember her Al? Big hair, stupid smile, always saying "this is your new forever home". I hope she rots in hell, too. I hope everyone does. I sure will be.
Sincerely, F Off
Matthew shook and tore the page out crumpling it in a ball and throwing it toward the waste bin where is settled beside it. He grabbed Kuma and tried ripping its head off, but he was too weak. He snatched a pocket knife from on his dresser and stabbed the bear viciously in the neck, who stared at him helplessly as his stuffing fell out. Matthew cut a rip down the bear's chest, a straight line from the neck to the hind legs. He dropped the knife and dug his fingers under the neck, gripped the body, and pulled, severing the head off. Stuffing fell like snow on his lap and he felt all of the adrenaline pour out of his body.
He stared at his decapitated bear and cracked. He broke down into sobs so hard that his body shook and he could barely breathe. He coughed and wiped the snot from his nose, curling up in a ball. He clutched his torn up bear, crying for it and for himself and how he just didn't want to be here any more. Life wasn't fair. No, it was cruel. And it had won. Matthew wasn't strong enough to deal with it any more. He gave up, mentally proclaiming this was the end. This was how he'd go. He opened his red, teary eyes, seeing the pocket knife lying there. One quick swipe and it would all be over with.
Tentatively, he reached for it, imaging how it would feel. It would be the best pain. But just as his fingers reached the blade, he lost consciousness, dropping into a sea of endless black.
So I know you're probably thinking "How could you do this? Do you have tea with Satan!?" And the answer to that is: Coca Cola, not tea. I know a lot of you have expressed that you want Matthew better, and I've done the complete opposite, but things won't be better in a day. Again, I apologize for hitting sore spots, that's not my intentions, as it is all very sensitive things to me as well.
Also, my updates have finally caught up with my writing so if I don't post for a week, it's because I'm still going over my writing. I go over each chapter like 5 times to catch any mistakes, which is much more than I can say for my schoolwork. You're all very important and thanks for still reading this, even if you hate me!