If It Weren't For Him (BoyxBoy)

Chapter ten

Yeah, this chapter took a lot longer to write than I had intended it to. I've literally had writers block on this chapter for this long, it wasn't until two days ago that I was finally able to actually write this chapter. Good God!!!

Anyways, enjoy this chapter, and hopefully you won't have to wait as long for the next chapter.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Will's P. O. V.

Back in my room, after having dinner with my Father, I took a seat on my bed. It creaked and dipped from the weight of me. Glancing around my room, there was a majority of boxes that still remained unpacked, and my room itself was a mess of unorganized items and furniture.

I let out a resigned sigh, as the last thing I wanted to do was have to go through all of my things, and start setting up how I wanted my room to look like, as I knew it will be a pain to do, and would take up a lot of my time.

However, I knew it had to be done. I just couldn't let my room stay like this.

Plus, I didn't want my father to start hounding me for being lazy and whatnot, as that will only cause more stress for me in the end, and that was the last thing I needed right now, as it could very well cause me to do unpredictable things.

And, I had a strong feeling that, due to how fragile my spirit was, my mental wounds still being fresh and tender, that if the pressure placed upon me becomes too much for me to handle, I may yet again break and cause more self harm to myself. I could very well, possibly, try to kill myself, again...

I could only hope that never again will I have to deal with such suffering, and that I would not be pushed towards that breaking point.

After shaking my head of such thoughts, I hopped off the bed and walked over to the nearest box. I then began the slow process of unpacking it, then moved on to the next box, then the next. This continued on until, while unpacking a box that had been placed further into the room, and had taken an hour too get to, I paused, my hand near the bottom of the box.

My gaze stilled on what was inside, my hand just an inch away from what it was that had captured my attention. Hesitantly, I reached inside the box and pulled out the object of my interest.

What I held in my hands was a familiar shoebox, one that brought with it many sad memories, and one that I will forever wish to forget.

The regret and pain that flooded through my as my hands tightened around the shoebox, nearly drowned me, and I let out a shuddering breath as I lifted the top of the shoebox and gazed at the contents it held inside it.

There were four things in total that the shoebox stored.

One was a picture of me, my dad, and my mom back when she was still alive and healthy. The time before she was stuck to decay, bedridden from the burden of the cancer, in the hospital until what remained of her life ran out.

Sadness and loneliness made my heart ache as I gently rubbed my thumb over her smiling face, hating that I can never see or feel the warmth of it again.

Putting down the photo reluctantly, I then picked up the second item.

It was a pocket watch with a simple design of a bird spreading it wings out, as if preparing to take flight on it cover. It was the last gift I had ever gotten from my mother before she passed away. Opening it up, the hands of time held still, unmoving since the day my mother passed away.

I thought that it represented this period of my life well, in the sense that I have yet to move forward in life since the day I tried to take my life. Or maybe, before that time. I also believed that this represented my father too, in how he has yet to move forward in time since my mothers death.