This Empty Northern Hemisphere (A Mumford and Sons fanfiction)

Chapter XXIII: I Could Live in Hope

Chapter 23: I Could Live in Hope

Winston is undecided as to what he wants to do now. Part of him wants to end things with Ben. He’s terrified things will get messy if he let’s them continue. At the same time however, Ben’s been a bit of a lifeline that Winnie has practically hung onto since they met. He’s caught on the rope that Ben has held out for him, just as the one Ted always made sure was in reach is drifting farther and farther away.

He needs to talk to Ben about everything, but he’s still scared he’ll end up losing Ben too.

The book, East of Eden, had more of an effect on Winnie than he’d care to admit; it made him rethink his whole relationship with Ben. The relationship that sprung from nowhere and feels as if it has nowhere to go.

The thought of that scares him enough to make his heart race and his breathing quicken. If he worries over if too long he gets light headed, so he uses that as a temporary excuse to not do anything about it right away.

It’s Thursday now; Winston has been completely self harm free for exactly three weeks. He’s been a self-proclaimed bisexual for almost two. And things with him and Ted have been heart wrenchingly awful for most of that three weeks. Cherry is at home with the flu, locked up tight in the house. Winnie hadn’t been able to find a sitter, but he had packed Cherry a lunch and left her a few snacks on the table should she get hungry. She can take care of herself rather well, and Winnie also left her his number.

Between worrying over Cherry and Ted, Winston has little room for much else.

“I don’t really know what to do about Ted,” Winston mutters sullenly. He’s outside the auditorium with Ben as he works on the huge mural that covers nearly a whole wall.

Ben shrugs from his spot up on a step ladder, continuing on with his project. He’s already managed to get a streak of blue across his face and a single dot of purple dabbed on his nose thanks to Winnie. He’s adorable when he’s covered in paint. Winston smiles when he adds another color to his face by accident and simply ignores it.

“You’ve given him some time to think, yeah? I dunno. Maybe you ought to talk to him, see what’s going on inside that head of his.”

“I wish I knew,” Winston says with a sigh. He sits with his back against the bottom step.

Ben paints in silence for a moment. A question is burning away at the back of his mind and Winston can tell he might not like what he’s going to ask.

“I saw the scars on your arm.”

Winston lets out a breath. That’s not what he was expecting, but his chest still tightens with anxiety over remembering that awful place he’d been in. The manic depression has a bit of a hold on him yet; sometimes he’s so happy he wants to shout it to the whole world, and other times he just wants to curl up with Ted- no, Ben, he means Ben- and cry for a while.

“Yeah?” Winston replies weakly.

Ben sets his paint palette down and sits on the top step of his ladder so he can properly talk to Winnie. “I can guess what they’re from,” He admits quietly. “And I can guess that they’re the reason you why you were in the hospital so long.” Ben leans over and kisses the top of Winston’s head.

Winston picks at his nails, not wanting to think of the constant nausea, cloudiness and inability to think clearly that had been part of his stay at the hospital. “It was… just a rough time.”

Ben nods. “I understand. I used to… cut. It’s difficult to stop. I nearly relapsed before I met you.”

Winston laces his fingers with Ben’s, turning their hands over and tracing the paint lining Ben’s hand. “I still think about it sometimes,” Winston replies evenly. “I want to hurt myself, cause it’s the only thing that’ll make the fog go away on really bad days, but I made a promise to stop. There are days where I wonder why physical pain makes the mental pain go away.”