You Don't Know What It's Like (Kellic)

Chapter 16

Vic's P.O.V

We had left the hospital in a silent car. Mike got scolded by Ma for driving the car unsupervised. Though Kellin took the blame.

Everything had been full of tears and conversations passed between us in Spanish, resulting in an oblivious Kellin. Part of me feels he deserves an explanation. Another feels like I'm not ready. The majority felt as if I didn't understand it myself. I know full well why I wanted to at the time, though I wasn't hardly thinking in the future. Did I really want to die? I did. But that doesn't mean I can't get better. I'd never admit to myself, but I'm scared of recovery. I've only known one thing and that's the emptiness and loneliness. I wouldn't let myself feel any other way. I was so confined to my own perceptions as to how I could live. Why am I thinking so positively now, rather when I was on the floor bleeding out?

Now, night has fallen, and Kellin is laying with his head on my chest, tracing patterns in my still-beating heart. Silence fell over us ages ago. There was nothing more I wanted than to speak. Quiet is violent. It brings violent thoughts and likewise actions. Quiet is what brought me here in the first place.

I couldn't help but wonder what trick my parents pulled to get me out early. Though the doctor was right. Kellin has done nothing but calmed me since I was released. My thoughts run wild and those bad ones start to creep up from the darker parts trying to pull me under. Some way, some how, Kellin speaks or does something the second those bad things try to take me under. Maybe it's a subconscious thing.

"I was thinking that maybe we could go visit my parents tomorrow." Kellin spoke up, though his recommendation sounded more like a question.

"Sure. Only if you want to."

He shifted in my arms, no longer tracing mindless patterns with his fingertips, but began placing kisses along my jawline.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer. His fingers lightly brushed against the exposed skin of my collar bone, sending shivers through me.

Why was I ever going to leave him?

"This isn't about me, okay? You're just as much in this picture as I am. Whenever you feel shitty, tell me. I don't care where I am or where we are." His voice was full of emotion, though he was trying to sound stern.

I pecked his lips and mouthed an 'okay'.

The smile that had made its way onto my features wasn't forced like many times before. This was real.

I thought no one cared about me. I thought my problems weren't of any concern to anyone else. That Kellin's hands were so full of shit he didn't need mine on top. Maybe that was the case. Maybe it still is. But I'll be damned if I don't feel like everything is getting better.

Once my old therapist told me you can't really recover till you hit the bottom. That bounce back would be considered recovery. I hit rock bottom when my main goal was the eradication of myself. Now I have scars that'll never heal and emotional wounds to match. Though that's my story to tell.

Kellin's body was pressed flush to mine. His legs were tangled within my own and his breath had evened out. I ran my hand through his mass of hair.

He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. His eyelashes flutter slightly until he falls completely under. Then his usual worried features morph into a soft one. These are moments I'm coming to appreciate more than I did last night.

I'm coming to appreciate life more than I did last night. But how can one change so drastically within twenty-four hours? I guess that's what Kellin does to me.

-----

Short but I thought I'd throw in a cutesy recovery insight.

Take a lesson from this guys. For any of you dealing with shit in life, it gets better. I promise. It may get worse first, but it all gets better.