-Luke-
I woke up hearing weird sounds. They were so quiet that I didn't register them at first, but when I remembered Troy was in my room, I opened my eyes to see where he was and what he was doing. I was lying on my side, facing the wall, and the second I even thought about moving, my knee started hurting. I ignored it – I was pretty good at it at this point.
Instead, I turned to look at Troy. He was sitting on the bed, and when I tried to push myself up to take a better look at him, he lifted his gaze from whatever he was doing, and gave me a smirk.
"I hope I didn't wake you up," he said. For some reason, he had a big black marker in his hand.
"What are you doing?" I asked when I realized he was drawing something on my cast.
"I wanted to be the first one to sign your cast," he smiled, and continued with his work.
I sat up on the bed, and he was forced to stop again when I turned around to see what he was doing.
"The first one, or the only one?" I laughed.
There was a huge "TAP DANCER" written across the cast, from top to bottom, taking up the whole outer side of it. Apparently, he was in the middle of coloring the letters in, since the last three letters only had outlines done, and the rest were completely black.
"Just making sure everyone can see it," he said, pushing me back down so he could continue with his work. "Could you roll over, so I don't get your sheets dirty."
There was a short moment of dead silence in my room until he started snickering at his own words.
"My god..." I chuckled quietly, when he started laughing harder. "Why do you do that to yourself?"
He only laughed as a reply. I took a better position on the bed and put a pillow under the cast. Troy kept chuckling for a long time, and I couldn't help but smile the entire time.
But eventually, it died away. I started thinking about what happened at the hospital when we were leaving. It was easy to laugh with him and act like a normal kid with no worries, but I had to face the fact that I was not being completely honest with him. He was writing his name on my cast, and sure, people would probably think it was just a joke, but I wished it was his way of telling everyone else to back off. I had no right to wish that, not yet.
"Troy..." I muttered his name, and he let out a questioning hum without looking up from his work.
I couldn't remember if I had ever said it out loud.
"I tried to kill myself."
It was one of the scariest moments in my life. I couldn't even breathe while I waited for his reply. I didn't dare to look at him. And then...
"...I know."
His words were quiet, and he continued coloring his name without elaborating on it.
"Oh..." I mumbled. I didn't know what else to say. I wasn't sure if he knew either, but soon, I could hear him taking a deeper breath.
"That accident at the hill... It wasn't an accident," he spoke quietly. "I knew that."
"Yeah..." I nodded.
I heard a quiet klick and assumed Troy was putting his marker away. Part of me was surprised when I felt him lay down right behind me, putting his arm around me.
"I'm glad you failed," he said softly, hugging me. "I don't know much about what's going on, but I want you to know that I'm so damn glad you survived."
I had to blink a few times, so I wouldn't just burst out in tears. It was really close, but I didn't tell him about my suicide attempt just to bawl my eyes out. I wanted to tell him about everything. I had kept it all inside me for so long, pretending I was fine and acting like I didn't need any help, but the truth was, I did need help. I didn't want to be this person. I didn't want to be the ice cold Luke Frost anymore.
I started with the nightmares. I told him all about how difficult it used to be for me to even think about lying down, especially as a kid. The nightmares were vivid and horrifying, and I used to hate sleeping so much that I forced myself to stay awake. I still hadn't gotten rid of some of the habits I'd developed over the years. I still got out of bed just to check if the window was closed or if Bella had enough water or if I had done all my homework. And then I double checked it all. Just to stay awake.
Then I told him about migraines. That I was so deadly afraid every single time my eye twitched, or a small part of my skin started tingling or go numb, or when I could see tiny flickering lights when there wasn't any – there were more, and if any of those happened it usually meant I'd be in a world of pain thirty minutes later. I admitted to him I practically ran to take my meds every time it happened, even when the symptoms didn't get any worse, meaning I most likely wasn't going to have a migraine after all. The pain was just too much. It always left me weak and helpless and in so much pain I couldn't eat anything for the rest of the day, even though I needed food because I often ended up throwing up everything during the worst part.
I talked briefly about the other problems, my bad eyesight and anemia and getting so easily sick and everything. How I sometimes faked I was well even though I was about to faint.
And then... I told him about that day when I couldn't handle it anymore. I told him I truly believed God wanted me dead. I told him about me flying off the cliff and crashing on the ground so far below it should have killed me. I told him about cursing the sky above me. Begging to know why I wasn't dead yet.
"Because you weren't supposed to die," Troy said with a heavy voice, when I stopped speaking. He hugged me tighter, and I felt his lips brushing my cheek. "That is what He was trying to tell you."
I slowly turned on my back to see his face. He pushed himself up on his elbow and looked down at me with the most gentle smile I had ever seen. His eyes were gleaming with tears he was holding back. He brushed his hand through my hair and left it on my neck.
"Ugh, I wasn't supposed to sound so pathetic..." I muttered out of pure instinct.
"Stop doing that," he said quietly, and kissed my lips. "Stop being so mean to yourself. Would you call me or anyone else pathetic after telling you the same you just told me?"
"I'm not being mean–"
"Yes, you are. You keep calling yourself bad names and beating yourself up for no reason," he spoke sternly. "I hate it. I want to stop you every time you do it, but I don't know how since I can't physically get between you and you – the bully and the victim. You hate yourself for being weak, but newsflash, we're all weak and if you're worried about your body growing more fragile, I have more bad news for you: it only gets worse when we get older. No one is perfect and no one will survive this world without getting banged up a little, but that doesn't mean you're somehow lower than the next person!"
By the time he stopped talking, he was sitting next to me with his arms crossed over his chest. He was fuming and glaring at me, and for some reason, I started smiling.
"Sorry, I wasn't supposed to go on a rant..." he murmured. "But it just gets on my nerves to see you treating yourself so bad! You are a sweet guy. A good person. I know you have a playful side in you and I know you can smile and goof around and have fun. You work so hard and help others and treat everyone nicely and I know that you, too, would stand up for the victim you if you saw the bully you treating him like that!"
He snapped his mouth shut and took a deep breath. "Sorry about the rant part two..."
I laughed and took his hand in mine, pushing myself to sit up in front of him. "I deserved that," I told him, rubbing his fingers. "I should work on that."
"You deserve so much better from yourself," he said quietly. "You've been through so much... It breaks my heart."
"I am doing better now," I told him just as quietly. "But I know I'm not well. I knew my leg wasn't fine. It's been getting worse the past few months, but I didn't tell anyone about it. I don't know if it had anything to do with it breaking again, but I should've taken better care of it. Maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe they would've stopped me from playing and I would be just fine now. And... I think I should go see a shrink again..."
"Really?" he asked carefully.
I nodded with a sigh. "It is possible... that... I might be getting worse again," I admitted after a bit of struggle.
He lifted his hand on my cheek and pressed his head against mine. "This time, I'll be here for you. If there's anything you need, just let me know, all right?"
"All right," I nodded, feeling somehow... lighter. "Thanks."
"Anytime, dude," he whispered.
-Troy-
I was happy that Luke told me all about what was going on in his mind. It broke my heart to hear about it all, but I was still glad he told me. We talked for hours that night. He let me into his biggest secrets, into his darkest places, and it was terrifying in there. I couldn't even imagine how it must've been like to grow up having those feelings and thoughts. I felt powerless and weak. I wanted to do something to make all those things disappear, but there was no such power in this world that could just erase depression.
But I would stand by him. Whatever he needed, I wanted to give it to him, and it had only a little to do with my feelings for him. Even if we weren't dating, I would still help him, because he was truly a great guy and he deserved to be happy. I knew it would be rough sometimes, but I wasn't scared so easily.
We spent most of the Sunday in his room, playing games and making out. I could tell he was reluctant to continue talking about his depression, so I didn't push him. We weren't avoiding the topic exactly, but every time our conversation started going in that direction, he became uncomfortable. I could only hope that he wasn't shutting down completely, and that he only needed more time to adjust to being more open about it. About his depression.
He was in a good mood, though. If I feared he would be angry and grumpy all the time about having to use crutches, I was wrong. He took it surprisingly well. My plan to cheer him up by signing his cast seemed to be working, since I saw him staring at it every now and then with a small smile on his lips. He was worried that someone would realize we were dating when they saw it, but I didn't give a fuck. I was really close to losing the last fuck I had about the subject, anyway.
Actually... I thought about it for a long time and came to the conclusion that I had zero fucks left.
On Monday morning, I made my decision.
"I think I'll go home today," I told Luke after breakfast. He seemed surprised and maybe a bit hurt by my sudden decision. "I'd like to come back tomorrow or maybe this evening, though. There's just some stuff I need to do."
"Stuff?" he repeated with a frown.
"Nothing big," I lied, hating myself for it, but if he knew what I was about to do, he would've stopped me. "There's some schoolwork I need to get done, and I'll probably give my aunt a call. If I have the energy, I'll go visit my mom as well."
"But... you can do that all here. And if you want, I can come with you to the cemetery," he spoke carefully.
"Dude..." I said gently, pushing my hand through his hair. "You need to rest and I... I could use some time alone."
He wasn't satisfied with me, but he didn't object. I hated to see him so timid – I had the feeling he thought I wanted to get away from him.
"I'll come back as soon as I'm done, okay? I'll grab some new games I haven't played yet so we can play them together," I said, trying to sound as cute as possible.
Thankfully, he seemed more content now. I just felt horrible because I didn't know how much of my promises I could actually keep. And I certainly hated lying to him, but I had to do this.
It took me a while to convince everyone I would come back as soon as possible, and that I didn't need a ride. It wasn't a long way home, and I needed some fresh air. When I was finally able to leave, it was way past noon already.
I was nervous as I made my way home, but I was also determined. Luke didn't need all this secrecy in his life, and I was fed up with it as well. All I wanted was to write "Property of Tap Dancer" on his cast, but now there was only my nickname. I didn't write my actual name because I wasn't that fond of my last name, Dominic. It was my father's name. Who knew, maybe it would be Frost someday, but it was too early to think such things. Especially while I was walking to my probable doom.
I had no idea what to expect. I had no plan in case my old man decided to kick me out of the house. There seemed to be a million possible outcomes, and none of them were good. I wished this would be one of the times he simply didn't care, but I knew I wasn't so lucky. This would go badly, but I was done hiding the fact that I had a boyfriend. A great one at that, who needed my support and not worry about what would happen to me if people found out about our relationship.
Suddenly, I was already standing in front of our front door. I had to take a deep breath before I searched for my keys. After that point, I pushed everything out of my head. There were lights on, so someone was home.
It was time.
I opened the door and suddenly realized I had no idea how to start the conversation. Should I just walk up to him and blurt it out? Or should I try talking to him first and try to find a more subtle way to tell him? I couldn't back away, though. It was now or never.
I stepped in. I could hear both my dad and Stephanie in the kitchen, talking quietly, but the second I closed the door, they fell silent. That was... odd.
I made my way to the doorway of the kitchen and stopped. They both started staring at me, but then my father stood up from his seat.
"We need to talk," he said with a dark voice. Stephanie was suddenly looking timid, and I had a pretty good guess why.
"Fine," I said defiantly, crossing arms over my chest.
"I'll give you two some privacy," Stephanie said and stood up, but my dad stopped her.
"So, did you have fun at your friend's house?" Dad asked.
"I did. Did you guys have fun in Singapore?" I asked in return.
Dad looked at me harshly, and I could tell he was mad at me. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is that my own son is spending time with those freaks?"
Whoa, straight to business. All right then.
"Freaks?" I repeated.
"Don't be stupid! I know all about the man who dresses up like a woman!" he raised his voice.
"Gwen is a woman," I said, and my blood was already boiling, but I had to keep it cool.
"I have seen him with my own eyes! He is not a woman! He's a pervert! Don't you get how dangerous those people are?!" he yelled, taking a step towards me. "I taught you better than this! I thought you were a smart kid!"
I shook my head. "Nah, you didn't teach me shit. I had to learn to take care of myself after Mom died. And guess what? I grew up to be a decent person, so thank you for leaving me out of your narrow-minded world."
He stared at me with his eyes wide. "Well, I clearly made a mistake! You will not go anywhere near that freak again, am I clear?"
"That's not going to happen, since I'm dating her son," I said as calmly as I could.
He was speechless. He didn't even blink as he stared at me. I was expecting a whole shit storm incoming, but he surprised me by keeping most of his composure. "No, you're not," he finally said.
"Yes, I am," I said sternly.
"No, you are not," he repeated, and took another step toward me. "And that is final. Give me your phone, go to your room, and stay there. I will deal with you later."
"Deal with me?"
"GO TO YOUR ROOM NOW!" he yelled so loud my ears started ringing.
When I didn't move a muscle, he marched to me, grabbed my bag and forced it off me, before taking a strong grip on my jacket and led me to the stairs. He gave me a hard push when we were there, and I had to grab the railing to keep my balance, before he continued dragging me up, and finally threw me into my room.
"AND STAY THERE!" he yelled, before slamming the door shut so hard I heard a painting fall on the floor just outside my room.
I turned to stare at the door. I'd always know it would go like this, but now that I actually had to live through it... it was much worse than what I'd imagined. I felt betrayed and lonely and hurt... I hated to admit how much it hurt to see that man, who was supposed to be my father, so angry at me over such a little thing... I never thought he could get so angry...
And I was suddenly afraid of what would happen next.