Blue Howard (boyxboy)

You break my neck, I break your heart part 2

“So, my diagnosis would be ‘keep away from walls, they might hit you’,” I try to joke. She looks at me.

“Yes. But I think you should apologize to the wall also,” she says. I grab the door knob and am ready to leave, when she says, “And when you’re ready to tell me what really happened, I’m here.”

I told her I fell. Then I told her I hit my head against a wall. The lies we tell ourselves, and others.

There are two more notes when I get back to the dorm. I’m supposed to go to class, but instead I thought I should...feel safe? And my dorm is probably the only place I somewhat feel that way.

Now, even there, it’s not okay.

The notes are hurtful, and dumb. You would think someone like Lorcan might put some more effort into bullying. He doesn’t. He has even made a spelling error.

As much as I want to tell myself that he’s being silly and rude, and can’t even spell right, I am still aching. Not just in my head, my whole body. Even my soul - that is if humans happen to have one. I am not so sure.

I sit on the bed and stare at the wall. The cracks run along the surface.

Isn’t it funny how you seem to find details to relate to when you’re sad? Like how you think the wall is you, and how your bully is dragging lines across your skin, your mind, your heart making you crazy. You see the lines but you just can’t seem to find a way to fix them. A wall can’t fix itself, right? That’s you. You are a wall.

And it would be easier to get out of the bully’s way, but you can’t. You’re a wall.

Then you close your eyes and you think about dreams. Then you switch to nightmares. And suddenly you think that your life is a nightmare.

You are trying to run. But your feet are heavy. And even if you seem to move, you don’t. And even if you think you are getting away, you will fall.

And hit your head.

Then you realize that, in fact, you have hit your head. Because of someone who didn’t matter a day or two ago.

He used to be a face you didn’t recognize, and now it’s like he’s taped on the wall. There are hundreds of photos on the wall, layers upon layers. And it feels like he has been tattooed to your skin, definitely to your memory.

Breathe.

Nothing has happened yet, I tell myself.

You imagined it, I tell myself.

And then I go to class, apologize for being late, and sit at the desk where I thought about Anton, now I think about Lorcan, then Anton.

I think about how Lorcan is going to hurt him. I don’t like that.

I will do anything to stop it.

So I go to him. This needs to stop.

“Next time, send me some painkillers, also,” I say. He turns around, a grin on his lips.

“Are you in love with me or something?” He raises his eyebrow. I want to make that eyebrow bleed.

“You’re the one sending me love letters,” I shrug. “By the way, my favourite colour is blue.”

“Wow, you must have a really low self-esteem if you think those are love notes,” he rolls his eyes and laughs. His hands are in his pockets and he walks closer. The one he was talking to looks at me with surprised eyes, but is stuck on his spot. I wish he’d leave. “I guess that’s why you ran to Anton.”