Healing Gabriel (BoyxBoy)

✠ Chapter Thirteen ✠

Healing Gabriel: Chapter Thirteen

                                                        ※(*)※Gabriel's POV※(*)※

       I was so entertained it was not even funny.

       Mom had ordered a package. Inside it were things for me that I would never get tired of. Twelve balls of rainbow yarn, new paints, and paper for painting on. But the best part of it all? The gifts came wrapped in bubble wrap. After giving my mom a small smile and a quiet 'thank you', I was free to sit back down on the floor of my bedroom and do as I pleased.

       Moving the yarn across my bedroom floor, it slowly began to unravel, and I started becoming lost in my thoughts. I remembered telling Evan how yarn could keep me distracted for hours. He looked at me weird, then smiled and laughed, saying that I sure was different from any other teenager. Different, but in a good way. A unique, special way.

       I just didn't get it.

       Sometimes, he could be the most diligent, good-hearted person there ever was. Then, at other times, he was so . . . so impulsive. Keeping myself away from him was seriously destroying me from the inside out. I craved for his touch and his gentle words, something to keep my mind from thinking about the past.

       I was not mad at Evan for calling me that name. In truth, I deserved it. I mean, I rudely awakened him from his slumber. So it was my fault. The thing that I was upset at Evan for was how he was acting that day. Very crabby, very upset, and unbelievably tired. He was pretty snappish with everyone he came in contact with, including me.

       Something had to had happen to him. Something involving alcohol and staying up late, and something had to have gone wrong. I knew this because I could detect a hangover when I saw one, he was too tired even if he was hungover, and he had this terrible attitude that made everyone want to keep away from him. And then, as the days went by, I noticed him acting much different. All he would do was try to catch up to me in the halls, begging that I listen to him, that he was so sorry, to just hear him out. I did not want to give him the satisfaction that I would just take him back as a friend like that after he was being a complete jerk to everyone since I wasn't at his side. Sometimes, he could be such a child.

      I hated what he had become, but it reminded me that he needed me as much as I needed him.

       So. How do I feel about Evan drinking alcohol? Terrible, betrayed, hurt . . . everything along those lines. Did I hate the fact that he did it? Of course I did. But I didn't hate him. I couldn't hate him. No matter what he did, I would never, ever hate him. Besides, it's his life. If he wants to be a dolt and drink, then that was his choice. I had no control over him and his actions.

        I hated controlling people and telling them what to do, to be honest.

       Suddenly, the blue ball of yarn I was unraveling was no longer moving. I looked up from it, finding myself face-to-face with the wall.

       Whoops. See what I meant by yarn being able to distract, no, hypnotize, me in less than a second? I sat down against the wall, toying with the rest of the small blue ball in my hand, unraveling the rest of it around two of my fingers.

       It was Wednesday evening. Mom and Dad were downstairs eating dinner. I wasn't hungry. No surprise there.

       Sometimes, I wish I could just stuff my face with nothing but fatty foods. That way I could work out and burn it off; turn it into muscle. I hated being skinny. I hated this nasty, scarred up, pasty body in general. I wanted a tan, I wanted nice forearms, I wanted a toned six pack.