Healing Gabriel (BoyxBoy)

❖Chapter Five❖

       I decided to end this mock feud between Evan and me. I didn't want to be ignored anymore. I didn't want us to hate each other. And I'd start out by telling him I was molested. And that I had PTSD. An anxiety, and paranoia, and nightmares . . . Okay, maybe I wouldn't dump all of that on him in just one go. Some of it could wait. And then maybe, just maybe, he'd forgive me for being so fearful of telling him everything. Then maybe we could become friends, like we once kinda-were before.

       Jogging back upstairs while praying that Evan was still home, I stopped dead in my tracks when I reached the front door. Just like before. I was very much afraid of the night. It shadowed all the silhouettes and evil that slinked through it.

       But, if Evan was home, and we made up . . . he'd protect me. Just like he promised. And maybe I wouldn't have to be so afraid of the dark anymore.

       I opened the front door and cautiously peeked outside. Straight across the street was Evan's house. All the lights were off. I stepped outside into the night, still holding his clothes tightly to me. I shut the front door behind me and kept alert. I looked all around me as I walked across the street. I was making progress. I was doing it. I was moving through the night!

       The only reason I was doing this, however, was so that I could gain a protector. Someone to fight away the intruding darkness when I couldn't. When I finally reached my destination, I turned around and checked out the view. My house sat straight across from me, all the lights on. Several doors down from it was a house filled with music and partying.

       I turned back around, anxious about whether or not anyone was watching me. My vision, which was thankfully perfect, caught nothing. I walked quickly up to Evan's door step, then took a breath. I could do this.

       I knocked on the door, looking down at my feet. Nothing happened for a few seconds until I heard the sound of a door opening. I glanced up. Evan stood there, only wearing plaid pajama pants. Other than that, he was completely free of clothing. I forced myself to look at his face and not his abs. A wave of shock came across his face. His black eye finally seemed to be fading around the edges.

      "Evan?" I asked in a quiet voice. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it loud.

      "Uh . . . yeah?"

      "Here." I held his clothes out to him. He studied them for a moment, then took them from me. No skin contact was made. We both looked at each other for a few moments. "Um, thanks?" he said, staring at me quizzically. He seemed to be about to close the door, and I immediately opened my mouth to speak. I knew what I had to do.

      "I have PTSD," I blurted out.

      "I figured," he answered dully.

       I guess it was kind of obvious. I searched his eyes for any sign of resent, but none showed. Only confusion. He didn't seem to be afraid, or disgusted, so taking a deep breath, I told him the secret he hadn't stopped pestering me to tell him.

      "When I was a kid, I was kidnapped and molested," I said in a nearly inaudible voice. As soon as I spoke those words, I felt the tears just spill free. I hated coming to terms with my past. Evan's mouth dropped into a small O as he stared at me, shocked. His careless, jock-filled look was wiped completely off him.

      "Oh, God, Gabe. I feel like such an asshole," he breathed, bringing his hands to the side of his head.

       I couldn't look at him anymore. I looked down at our feet, both barefooted. I knew I'd forgotten to put something on before I left.