Being Different isn't normal
Chapter 1: Why?
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Okay peoples I wrote this as an attempt to write a half decent slash fic, those of a nervous disposition should look away now!- just joking its not that graphic-to begin with- it does contain some minor self harming but that's it. Please leave a review to let me know what you think. I will accept flamers if they have a bit of cc otherwise just don't review okay?.
Now after all that on with the story…
Drake sat curled up in a ball in his room trying to avoid everyone, everything and life for that matter. Life wasn't any use any more, he was sure his parents would disown him, he was sure Josh wouldn't associate himself with him anymore and he could almost be certain that he would no longer be popular anymore.
He never saw himself this way, it was more frightening than anything else to know that you're not the same as everyone else and that he wouldn't have anybody at the end of it, he was nearly sure of that.
He hadn't come out of his room for three days knowing that he would have to face his parents and tell them that he wasn't the son they expected him to be.
His parents were away collecting new furniture and as far as they knew, Drake was just not well.
He lifted his head momentarily, why did it have to be this way? Why did he have to decide that he was different when things were starting to go well for once-his grades were improving (D-C), he was sort of getting on with Josh and Megan wasn't there for three more weeks, what else could go more right, but then something always has to go wrong when things go too perfectly.
Why did he have to be different?
He'd broken up with the best girlfriend he had ever had, because he knew it wasn't fair to string her along when he knew something about what he felt just wasn't right, it wasn't normal for a seventeen year old boy to feel this way. She was heartbroken, inconsolable yet he told her he'd always love her but he couldn't be with her since then he'd gone home and not left his room, when the hunger pangs came he'd shove them away feeling that he didn't deserve to eat anymore, even deserve to live anymore.
Why would anyone want to know him?
He didn't like who he was anymore. He was afraid of what he was becoming, afraid of the looks he'd get at school, the silent whispers behind his back, the gossip and the lies everything about what he was becoming frightened the crap out of him.
Josh was away at a friends in Kentucky and he thanked the Lord that he had so much time away from his step-brother just so he could remind himself that behind different is wrong, being normal and fitting in was fine but anything else and you were the years hottest gossip.
How would he tell his parents?
He had no idea when or how for that matter, all he knew was he was afraid of telling them.
Why did everything have to be so complicated? Couldn't he just be normal and be happy with who he was? But he wasn't, he couldn't bring himself to the fact that the past seventeen years of his life had been lived through a lie, a huge lie. One thing that did come into his head though was why did he ignore it all his life?
If he had accepted it he wouldn't be here now, curled up in a ball angry with himself for finally giving in to what his heart of hearts told him.
He felt guilty. Guilty for doing it, guilty for enjoying it and guilty for wanting it more.
The hunger pangs had started again; he ignored them and continued on thinking of reasons why people would hate him now.
He wanted a release, he wanted to say sorry to everybody for being different, he wanted to suffer because he was different.
He knew not eating wasn't enough; he had to take much more drastic action to say he was truly sorry for what he did.
He ventured outside his room for the first time in three days, his razor the only thing clutched in his weak and shaky hands.
He shut the door, not sure of what he was doing.
Without a pause he took the gleaming bright green razor to his left arm making constant gashes until there was a sufficient amount of blood flowing from his arm. He then turned to the clean and untouched arm desperate to make it dirty and filthy with blood he swiped over the smooth skin to create a criss cross pattern seeping with blood. He felt dizzy but he didn't care, this was punishment for being different.
He felt extremely light headed, the next feeling he felt was his head hitting the tiles.