What's So Good About Picking Up The Pieces?
Me Without You (6)
Alex
I sat on the shower floor for some good twenty minutes, blankly staring at a nonexistent point on the wall. As the water poured down on me, I seemed to start relaxing, but it changed as soon as I had stepped out and faced the mirror, looking at myself.
I had just fucked Jack.
I had just fucked Jack and enjoyed it.
There really was no way this situation could get any worse.
I dried my hair and pulled on some of my previously worn clothes that were thrown into a messy pile in the corner of the bathroom, not wanting to spare a look at my favourite jeans because how could I? And then with a sigh I stepped outside.
Everything seemed to be silent and I guessed, no, I hoped that Jack had just stomped off to his room. I slowly walked to the kitchen, just to check that everything was fine and there would be no traces of the foul I had just taken part in when Zack came home. Just before I entered the room, I took a deep breath.
To have it knocked out of me as soon as I grasped the view in front of me.
The kitchen was clean, a rag in the bin suggesting that Jack had indeed scrubbed the entire counter clean. It almost seemed like nothing had happened, nothing..
Except Jack was sitting on the floor, curled up against the cupboard, his head hidden between his knees and quiet sobs echoing in the air.
I swore I heard my heart skip a beat before I managed to realize that this was actually happening and threw myself down on my knees next to the boy.
“Jack, are you alright?” Such an ignorant question.
I felt overwhelmed. With panic, mostly, but there was something else, something just tearing my heart apart as I watched the kid’s shoulders shake. I had been such a selfish bastard. To run off like that? I should've checked if the boy was fine. Maybe I had been too rough. Sure, the boy had been pressing the issue, but I was supposed to know how to deal with it, I was supposed to know how to stop. Instead I had gone and put my anger out on him. As if this whole situation hadn’t been bad enough.
“Jack, please, tell me what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” I asked, my voice the complete opposite of what it had been mere thirty minutes ago. It was tense and filled with worry and most likely panicky.
“W-why are y-you even asking, you d-don’t care,” he said, half of the words muffled by his sobs, but understandable nevertheless.
“I do,” I objected and tried to put my hand on his shoulder, but he flinched and I pulled away. “I really do and even more so if I’ve hurt you,” I repeated, making him look up at me. For the second time I was obligated to look into his red-rimmed and watery eyes, knowing I was the cause of his tears. Again.
“Y-you don’t, y-you hate me. J-just like everyone else. No one gives a f-fuck ‘bout me,” he whispered, trying to take deep breaths and stop crying. It wasn’t working and he tried to hide his face again.
“C’mon, look at me,” I told him and surprisingly he did. “I care, Jack. I do. I don’t hate you, I’ve never hated you. Please, why are you crying?” I asked again, desperation apparent in my voice.
“Because I’m a c-complete waste of air. Everyone’s tired of my shit, even I’m tired of myself. So fucking tired. I should've just died with my mum,” he choked out and tried to wipe all of his tears away. “Y-you’ve been nothing but k-kind to me, even when I didn’t deserve any k-kindness a-at all and I-I have turned your l-life into hell. J-just like with every-everyone else. I-I just practically t-threw myself a-at you-”
“That’s not true, that's not your fault, I should’ve stopped, Jack. What I did was-”
“And I n-never thought that this was how m-my first time w-would be like. I l-love you but y-you d-do-don’t a-and I d-don’t even deserve y-you.” He hid his face again as more tears started streaming down his face. “I’m s-such a fuckup and n-now I’m b-being pathetic,” he whimpered.
I sat frozen, unable to move. I wasn’t sure of what I was feeling, I just knew that it was trying to pull me apart and that I fucking deserved it. First time. I had taken the boy’s innocence from him in the cruelest, roughest, painful way possible. On top of that I had made him believe I hated him. Now that he was away from his former abuser, I had been the one to keep hitting him, my own ignorance blurring my senses.
I had never offered the boy a hug, I had never offered him help, I had never offered him to listen to what he had to say. All I had given him was a roof to stay under and then had kept repeating it over and over again until I had made it sound like he owed me his life. I had screamed at him when he had tried to explain himself. I had been the selfish, arrogant and self-pitying one.
And I had broken Jack.
He loved me and I tore him to pieces.
Just like Josh had done to me.
I had to fix it. He didn’t deserve this.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I looked at the shivering body in front of me and went for the only solution that came into my mind. I sneaked my arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled his body into my embrace. His immediate reaction was to cringe away from me, but I held him tightly. He soon gave up and rested his head on my chest as he continued to weep, salty tears soaking my shirt. I let the boy wrap his hands around me and cling to my shirt, body trembling with each sob.
“Forgive me, Jack. I’m so sorry about everything, I’m so sorry I kept throwing you aside. I’m so sorry,” I went on and on and the boy just seemed to cry more.
“I-I’m so sorry I h-hurt you, I-I never wanted t-to, Lex,” Jack's voice quavered and he was still clutching to the sides of my shirt desperately.
“It’s okay, Jacky, it’s fine.”
And I guessed it was because I was going to fix this. I was going to help him and vice versa.
“I forgive you about the whole lying thing,” I whispered while rubbing circles on his back and he seemed to relax a little. “Do you want to get up?” I asked him and he hesitated before nodding. I held his hand until we got to the couch and sat him down there before walking over to the DVD player and putting in a movie. When I returned, I pulled Jack right back into my embrace and let him stay there even when he had calmed down, even when he had started smiling because of his favourite The Nightmare Before Christmas scene, even when he had drifted off and I didn't let him go after I had fallen asleep too, my hand still around his fragile waist.
I sat on the shower floor for some good twenty minutes, blankly staring at a nonexistent point on the wall. As the water poured down on me, I seemed to start relaxing, but it changed as soon as I had stepped out and faced the mirror, looking at myself.
I had just fucked Jack.
I had just fucked Jack and enjoyed it.
There really was no way this situation could get any worse.
I dried my hair and pulled on some of my previously worn clothes that were thrown into a messy pile in the corner of the bathroom, not wanting to spare a look at my favourite jeans because how could I? And then with a sigh I stepped outside.
Everything seemed to be silent and I guessed, no, I hoped that Jack had just stomped off to his room. I slowly walked to the kitchen, just to check that everything was fine and there would be no traces of the foul I had just taken part in when Zack came home. Just before I entered the room, I took a deep breath.
To have it knocked out of me as soon as I grasped the view in front of me.
The kitchen was clean, a rag in the bin suggesting that Jack had indeed scrubbed the entire counter clean. It almost seemed like nothing had happened, nothing..
Except Jack was sitting on the floor, curled up against the cupboard, his head hidden between his knees and quiet sobs echoing in the air.
I swore I heard my heart skip a beat before I managed to realize that this was actually happening and threw myself down on my knees next to the boy.
“Jack, are you alright?” Such an ignorant question.
I felt overwhelmed. With panic, mostly, but there was something else, something just tearing my heart apart as I watched the kid’s shoulders shake. I had been such a selfish bastard. To run off like that? I should've checked if the boy was fine. Maybe I had been too rough. Sure, the boy had been pressing the issue, but I was supposed to know how to deal with it, I was supposed to know how to stop. Instead I had gone and put my anger out on him. As if this whole situation hadn’t been bad enough.
“Jack, please, tell me what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” I asked, my voice the complete opposite of what it had been mere thirty minutes ago. It was tense and filled with worry and most likely panicky.
“W-why are y-you even asking, you d-don’t care,” he said, half of the words muffled by his sobs, but understandable nevertheless.
“I do,” I objected and tried to put my hand on his shoulder, but he flinched and I pulled away. “I really do and even more so if I’ve hurt you,” I repeated, making him look up at me. For the second time I was obligated to look into his red-rimmed and watery eyes, knowing I was the cause of his tears. Again.
“Y-you don’t, y-you hate me. J-just like everyone else. No one gives a f-fuck ‘bout me,” he whispered, trying to take deep breaths and stop crying. It wasn’t working and he tried to hide his face again.
“C’mon, look at me,” I told him and surprisingly he did. “I care, Jack. I do. I don’t hate you, I’ve never hated you. Please, why are you crying?” I asked again, desperation apparent in my voice.
“Because I’m a c-complete waste of air. Everyone’s tired of my shit, even I’m tired of myself. So fucking tired. I should've just died with my mum,” he choked out and tried to wipe all of his tears away. “Y-you’ve been nothing but k-kind to me, even when I didn’t deserve any k-kindness a-at all and I-I have turned your l-life into hell. J-just like with every-everyone else. I-I just practically t-threw myself a-at you-”
“That’s not true, that's not your fault, I should’ve stopped, Jack. What I did was-”
“And I n-never thought that this was how m-my first time w-would be like. I l-love you but y-you d-do-don’t a-and I d-don’t even deserve y-you.” He hid his face again as more tears started streaming down his face. “I’m s-such a fuckup and n-now I’m b-being pathetic,” he whimpered.
I sat frozen, unable to move. I wasn’t sure of what I was feeling, I just knew that it was trying to pull me apart and that I fucking deserved it. First time. I had taken the boy’s innocence from him in the cruelest, roughest, painful way possible. On top of that I had made him believe I hated him. Now that he was away from his former abuser, I had been the one to keep hitting him, my own ignorance blurring my senses.
I had never offered the boy a hug, I had never offered him help, I had never offered him to listen to what he had to say. All I had given him was a roof to stay under and then had kept repeating it over and over again until I had made it sound like he owed me his life. I had screamed at him when he had tried to explain himself. I had been the selfish, arrogant and self-pitying one.
And I had broken Jack.
He loved me and I tore him to pieces.
Just like Josh had done to me.
I had to fix it. He didn’t deserve this.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I looked at the shivering body in front of me and went for the only solution that came into my mind. I sneaked my arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled his body into my embrace. His immediate reaction was to cringe away from me, but I held him tightly. He soon gave up and rested his head on my chest as he continued to weep, salty tears soaking my shirt. I let the boy wrap his hands around me and cling to my shirt, body trembling with each sob.
“Forgive me, Jack. I’m so sorry about everything, I’m so sorry I kept throwing you aside. I’m so sorry,” I went on and on and the boy just seemed to cry more.
“I-I’m so sorry I h-hurt you, I-I never wanted t-to, Lex,” Jack's voice quavered and he was still clutching to the sides of my shirt desperately.
“It’s okay, Jacky, it’s fine.”
And I guessed it was because I was going to fix this. I was going to help him and vice versa.
“I forgive you about the whole lying thing,” I whispered while rubbing circles on his back and he seemed to relax a little. “Do you want to get up?” I asked him and he hesitated before nodding. I held his hand until we got to the couch and sat him down there before walking over to the DVD player and putting in a movie. When I returned, I pulled Jack right back into my embrace and let him stay there even when he had calmed down, even when he had started smiling because of his favourite The Nightmare Before Christmas scene, even when he had drifted off and I didn't let him go after I had fallen asleep too, my hand still around his fragile waist.
Notes
Eek. So, I joined the Hustlers today and I was wondering if any of you are in the club as well because I would appreciate someone kinda helping me get started. I'm a really fucking awkward human being, even if it's on the internet, and I'd just like some help. Plz, I'll give cookies!
Also, I was wondering if anyone wants to spare me a minute and perhaps exchange skype names or just message me? I'd just love to get to know some fellow awesome people. Perhaps you could throw some ideas my way or etc. Ya know.
Anyway, thanks for putting up with me. c:
This book is cute, please update!
4/8/14