Loving You Dearly {BoyxBoy}

Chapter One

David seems to have this way around words and somehow manged to not get me into any serious trouble – with my mom and saving me from you know, dangerous activities. He does have such a way with words and it's just so compelling that you really don't care whats coming out of his mouth, just that you'll always want to agree. But maybe that's because I'm in love with him and everything that he said sounds amazing.  I glanced back at David one more time to crush my spirits a little bit more and then pushed my legs forward. Trying to forget that dull ache in my chest trying damn hard to be noticed. I really didn't need this right now. I had to at least make it home before I have yet another breakdown about David.

It was becoming a bit of routine for me. At the end of the day I would go to my locker and get my stuff, find David making-out with some girl (the same girl as the day before if she's lucky), and then rush home to cry my eyes out. Or something like that. Sometimes I would get angry. Other times I wouldn't feel anything. And then there was the crying that I try desperately not to do. God, the last time my mom walked in on me crying she sent me straight to my doctor and therapist. They then prescribed me more pills.

It wasn't ideal. But it worked. It carried my life in a sort of okay direction. Not to say that I was in good health from this situation I found myself in. I don't really think that anyone could be. My mother is always the one who worries about me. Ever since I came out to her and told her I was in love with David she's been constantly asking me about my progression with him and how he's been acting. And most of the time it's the same – he continues to just ignore my feelings and all his stupid promises to me. But some days, he'll say something that sets me off. Just one tiny thing and it breaks me. On those days I don't wait to cry. The sky becomes duller and my backpack seems to be full of rocks dragging me down. And I just wish that the school hallways would open up and swallow me whole.

I finally arrived home and looked at my phone to find I had two text messages. One was from my mother kindly expressing her absence at home as she had to work late and the other was from David asking if I got home okay and explaining that him and Tia - as he thinks her name is - got caught up in some stuff that I would rather not hear about. I rolled my eyes at his weak attempt to give me some fake apology. He knew he wasn't sorry about going home with a girl. And guess today was a crying day – though, I tried not to cry too much.

I made me some peanut butter and apple slices and took them up to my room. I ate in silence. Watching the butterflies flutter outside of my window and then did my homework until mom came home. She made us dinner and went to bed soon after. The sun was just now setting and I sat on the roof and watched the sun set. My mother didn't like me sitting on the roof. Said it was dangerous, and I could hurt myself. But I did it anyway.

My mother worried about me for several reasons that where all very reasonable. I was sick – born with a extremely rare blood disease, that was apparently so rare they hadn't come up with a name for it. But from what I understood it was yet another type of anemia. Anemia normally deals with red blood cells and the over 400 types vary. But the type that I had caused my skin to stay extremely pale, fatigue, massive headaches from time to time, and gave me absolutely no chance of ever being able to lift weights much less my backpack that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. Most of the time Anemia was hereditary. My father had it and passed it down to me. Although, he had a different type and got cancer and died when I was two.

It broke my mother terribly. But I didn't even know how much it had affected her until I was older. As a kid mom would take me to the little family owned toy store down the street and buy me things. We would go to the park and I would run around for a few hours. She would take me to the movies and we had a lot of fun. It wasn't until I was eight that I started looking at all the other kids around me and seeing them with their fathers. I asked my mom about dad and she started crying. It was the first time I had ever seen her cry. And I started crying as well.