Healing Gabriel: Chapter Thirty-Five
※(*)※Gabriel's POV※(*)※
Evan was cupping my face in his hands and kissing me to the point where my knees felt like the jell-o we were about to make when a sudden ringing met my ears. I started to pull away from him so that he could answer his phone (also so that I could catch my breath), but he switched his kisses to the higher part of my jaw, distracting me. It was nice to feel his warm breath breezing softly against my ear, but it was also the slightest bit otherworldly. He was kissing and nuzzling places that were meant to be beaten and bloodied. He was so different from him, and I wanted to stay there forever, protected and out of harm's way with kisses and caresses cascading my skin instead of bruises and scars.
I couldn't help the small intake of breath when he placed the kisses behind my ear, a place that I now knew was sensitive to his lips. The sound I made, though, terrified me. It made my eyes fly open and water in fear. I pulled away from Evan again, this time not at all teasingly or playful.
"Gabe?" he asked, perplexed as I put about three feet of space between us. "Did I do something wrong?"
"N-no, sorry, I just . . . " I trailed off, gathering in small breaths of air. It had felt so good, but then that little noise of appreciation terrified me. I remembered when he used to do things to me, and my body would react so positively to it all even though I hadn't wanted any of it. I remembered letting out the same breathy gasps and sighs, moans, and it sickened me. Did I really even want Evan kissing me, or was my body just doing what it had when I was thirteen and in his presence?
Those thoughts scared me even more. I hated my paranoia, I absolutely hated it. I knew Evan wouldn't hurt me, I knew he would never do the same things he did, and I knew that he wanted to make me feel good and not just himself. And I knew that I wanted him.
So then why was I still thinking in such paranoid manners? Why was I still constantly getting confused?
The second set of ringing from his cellphone intercepted my thoughts. He let out a sigh and pulled the device out of his pocket, placing it against his ear as he said 'hey'. I listened to the sound coming from the other side of the electronic, unable to place the voice or make out the words being said. I paid attention to Evan's facial expressions, though, which he seemed to be making quite a bit of.
"You're not serious, are you?" he asked, his voice only the tiniest bit less gruff than earlier. The other person spoke in a seemingly regretful tone. He groaned, which must've bothered his throat because he coughed and rubbed at the front of his neck. "Well, that blows. And not in the good way." His eyes glanced over at me when he said that. He saw the distasteful, purrowed look on my face and mouthed 'sorry' to me, eyes apologetic. "I guess we'll just have to reschedule. No, no, it's fine. I totally understand. Thanks anyway. See you at school. Yes, I'll keep popping cough drops like they're candy. Bye."
"What happened?" I piped in when he hung up.
"Alana's brother offered to take her shopping next week, but he had to reschedule it to today 'cause of college or something," he revealed, leaning against the kitchen counter. I felt my mood dim as I stared at him, suddenly glum. I had been looking forward to spending time with two of my most favorite people in the world. I thought that maybe, by hanging out with a small group of friends that seemed to care a lot about me, the time together could maybe take a lot of things off my mind.
"Oh, no, don't look so beat up about it," he said, pushing off the counter and taking my hand in his, pulling me towards him. "We can just make jell-o with her next time, and spend time together today, okay? I mean, really, wouldn't you rather spend Saturday afternoon with me than a bunch of menstruating girls?"
I scrunched up my nose in disgust. "Ew, periods. Don't talk about those."
He nuzzled his nose in my hair. "I know, super gross, but it's true. Girls are nasty, aren't they?"
I shook my head against his chest. "No, they're cool and majestic. Just not including that week of the month."
He chuckled. "Agreed. Aren't you glad you don't have to deal with them, though? Gay guys don't have to worry about shopping for tampons or buying twenty pounds of chocolate."
Pulling back from his chest, I purrowed up at him as he looked down at me. "But guys in general, including homosexual ones, are constantly wanting to get in someone's pants. Which is also quite annoying, to be honest," I huffed, turning my head away from him. Thirty seconds later, I felt him grin against my cheek. "What're you smiling about?"
"You just mentioned something sexual without quivering or having a flashback."
I felt my eyes widen and my jaw slacken. I turned back to face him, to view his proud grin and lit up brown eyes. "Oh, my gosh," I breathed, somewhat slumping against him in realization, "I did." I totally just talked about sex without my eyes watering or my chest tightening. And even if I hadn't flat-out said it, I still referred to it. Without any hints of a panic attack.
"And when I mentioned 'blowing', all you did was look at me like I was the most immature thing ever. Like a mom would to her son dipping his hand into a chocolate fountain," Evan said, practically glowing with happiness. For me. He was happy for me. "I'm so proud of you, Gabriel. See, I told you that you were progressing and getting better!"
I smiled the tiniest bit wider than usual and wrapped my arms around his waist again. I hugged him tightly, and he hugged me back, placing multiple kisses on the tufts of blond on my head.
"This calls for celebration," he decided after a lip-lock and three more minutes of immense hugging in the middle of the kitchen.
"Celebration?" I inquired, looking at him quizzically. Why does me talking about sex require a celebration?
"This is a milestone, kitten! I can finally be as perverted as I want around you without the fear of triggering you!"
I shoved him playfully but gave him a half-serious glare. "Don't push your luck, Fido. Each time I overcome something, another thing appears and does twice as much damage to the newly healed part of my mind."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't be so pessimistic. You're getting better, Gabe, everyday. That's all that matters. Now, come on. We've got a bed to lay in and any movies of your choice to watch."
"That's my prize for overcoming such a milestone?" I asked in a jokingly condescending tone. "We were probably gonna do that anyway."
He stuck his tongue out before turning to face the pantry, pulling out several packages of snacks. Then he grabbed two mugs and hot chocolate mix and started making the same insanely delicious concoctions from last Valentine's Day.
"But this time, we'll have snacks," he said, as if that sweetened the deal. Which it did. But he didn't have to, because I was perfectly happy lounging around with him all day in the first place.
Six hours and twenty-seven minutes later, Evan was fast asleep next to me. He had fallen into dreamland about two hours ago during the second movie. He slept much differently than me, I noticed. Instead of being on his side, scrunched up in a fetal position with his arms around his legs, he slept on his back with his limbs extended as if he were some attractive, football-playing hybrid four-legged starfish. I had to put his arm under my neck at one point during Finding Nemo 'cause it kept flopping against my chest. Not that I minded. I just really needed a headrest.
And our legs--our legs were tangled and warm beneath the blankets, and he seemed to be keeping an unbreakable lock around them with his own. It was uncomfortable, but at the same time, very comforting. Uncomfortable because I couldn't huddle into the usual ball I kept myself in, but comforting because he had such a strong grip around me in a protective manner. And when his hand connected to the arm under my neck curled upwards and started mindlessly playing with the thick, soft tufts of blond outlining my ear, I couldn't bring myself to pull away from him whatsoever. I glanced over at him to see if he was awake, but his eyes were shut, and his breathing continued to be shallow with a breath of a snore hinted in it.
I looked away from the laptop on his chest playing the fourth movie, and studied his face instead. His head was turned towards me, tan eyelids covering the prettiest chocolate brown eyes ever created by nature. The breath leaving his parted, darker pink lips blew against my jaw and chin, and I caught sight of a smaller-than-dime-sized pool of clear drool gathering in the corner of the inside of his lips. I wasn't grossed out at all at the sight of it; it was almost adorable to see him, one of the most popular guys and football players, be submitted to something as dorky as drooling in your sleep.
It was almost uncanny how, even in his sleep, he continued to be as beautiful and attractive as he would if he were awake.
I just wanted to lay there and be with him. I wanted to forget about the rest of the world, all of my problems, heck, even my friends, and just lay there. With him. For as long as I could without either of us ever having to leave.
Unfortunately, I heard the front door unlocking and knew we wouldn't be able to do that. I was a bit freaked out at the sound; my body tensed up and I felt myself, before I was even aware of it, trying to retract the rest of my body into a protective ball. I must've woke up Evan because he squirmed from next to me; I felt the muscles in his arms pull taut as he shook his head from left to right a bit, closing and licking his lips to coat them with the same saliva that had gathered in the corner of his mouth from earlier. He wiped the side of his lip, then focused his tired eyes on me.
He was such a sight to see be woken up. I almost didn't feel as bad anymore about disrupting his nap. Almost.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a rough, sleepy voice. I immediately felt even worse about waking him up. I hadn't meant to, but once again I was stupid and selfish and only worried about myself, not anyone around me.
"N-nothing, sorry," I whispered, propping my torso up with my elbows. He made a face before removing the laptop from his chest and placing it onto the ground with the dozens of watched and unwatched movie cases. Then, with the arm he still had wrapped around me, he pulled me toward him until I was lying on top of him, our chests touching and our legs still intertwined. I was a bit uncertain about how I felt being so close to him in such a position, so I reached over and grabbed my giant teddy bear's leg and placed it between us. He smirked a little before coursing his fingers through the hair on the back of my neck, sending shivers up and down my spine.
"Tell me."
"I heard the front door open," I admitted, a little bashful. "I'm not sure whom it is, either."
"It's probably just your parents," he murmured, resting his free hand on my lower back, right above the start of the curve of my bottom. I shivered again, but not from fear. Okay, maybe not all fear, 'cause I did feel a little uneasy, but the majority of the quivering responses were from the newness of it all. I'd never felt the need to be touched like this before, or even wanted to be touched at all. It was a very nice tingling feeling on the base of my spine and throughout the sensitive hairs on the back of my head. I wanted to welcome the gentleness that made my fingers twitch and my feet shift with open arms and a clear mind.
He pressed his lips against my chin, slowly moving his lips upwards along the line of my jaw. I closed my eyes when he got to the spot behind my ear; I felt my toes curl almost involuntarily in response. The kiss on that certain area felt amazing, just like earlier. Maybe even a little better. He made me feel so good that it was nearly overwhelming, being touched and kissed and entangled all at the same time. It got to the point where I wanted to moan, to let some of the blissfulness out in order to make room for more.
But I knew from experience that emitting those sounds was punishable. You weren't supposed to make them; the other person was. I wasn't supposed to be feeling this way; Evan was. None of this was about me; it was all about him. It's all about him. It didn't matter if I felt pleasure. In fact, I was supposed to be feeling none at all. Evan was supposed to be experiencing all of this, and chances were that he wasn't.
I was being selfish again, wasn't I?
I pulled away from him abruptly, scooting off his chest and going back to my side of the makeshift bed. My breathing was labored even though we hadn't even done anything that required breathlessness.
"Gabriel, what's wrong? What'd I do?" Evan immediately asked while pushing himself into a sitting position. I simply shook my head, forcing myself to lock my issues away.
"N-nothing, nothing," I said, scratching at my wrists.
"Stop saying that," he groaned, running his hand through his hair. "And stop scratching yourself, too. You already scathed up your arms, you wanna do that to your wrists next and give people the wrong idea?"
I purrowed at him. "No," I mumbled, clenching my hands into fists so that my nails could bite into my palms instead.
"Now tell me what's wrong," he huffed before clearing his throat and coughing. I started to say 'nothing', but he gave me a look before the word could leave my lips. I decided to come up with a believable excuse instead.
"My parents," I mumbled.
"What about them?"
"If they really are home, I don't want them to, like, suspect anything. Or for them to hear anything, you know?"
He eyed me for nearly two whole minutes, brown eyes thoughtful as he picked apart my words. Finally, he shook his head and covered his eyes with his hand, looking stained. I hadn't meant to stress him out.
"You need to stop lying to me," was all he muttered after an even longer silence.
I felt myself pale. How'd he see right through something as believable as that? I'd even said it just like any other teenager would!
"I-I'm not lying," I said, defending my statement.
"You know," he picked his head up from his hands, his brown eyes stressed and a little accusing, which made something inside my chest hurt, "if you want to keep improving, and if you want to make this relationship stronger, and if you actually want to trust me and be honest, this entire ordeal would be twenty times easier on the both us."
I felt a bit of anger inside me start to bubble. Did he not comprehend that I wanted to kiss and touch him, to do everything in the entire world with him? For him? Didn't he understand how much I hated thinking, remembering, discussing my past? Didn't he know how hard I was trying to be better for not just him, but for parents and friends and myself?
"I'm trying," I seethed, staring at him with a heated look in my eyes. "I'm trying to tell the truth, but it's just so difficult, okay? It's hard admitting that I'm so screwed up to the point where I can't even be intimate with you without ruining everything. It's hard having to constantly listen to him, even when he isn't here. It's hard being okay and happy one minute, then being a complete burden and stressful situation the next." I felt tears of anger and other overpowering emotions sting at my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I didn't want to be a such a whiny crybaby anymore. I wanted to toughen up, to be able to control my emotions instead of being emotionally unstable.
Evan's eyes softened to to the point where they were simply tired and sad. Shame quickly chased away the previous intense heat of anger I'd felt, making it exit as quickly as it had suddenly entered.
"You're not a burden," he said softly and convincingly, placing his hand over the blanket covering my feet. "You're not a stressful situation, either. Sure, you can be difficult, but that's okay because I am too. Right?" I nodded my head timidly, wiping any hints of water away from my eyes. "And I know it's hard sometimes, but you don't have to listen to him anymore, Gabriel. He's gone. Gone. Rotting away in jail, getting everything he did to you and the others done to him ten times worse. I don't know how to explain it to you anymore than that. He can't hurt you anymore. Nobody can."
"I know," I whispered, my voice threatening to crack. "I know all that. I know he can't hurt me, but I just can't get him out of my head. He's always there, terrifying me, controlling my thoughts . . . "
"Then don't let him," Evan said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"I don't know how," I admitted in a soft breath of a voice. "He does it in ways that are so sudden and intrusive, I just--"
Evan already had me against his side in a breathless embrace, surprising me to where my voice cut itself off. I responded fairly quickly, hugging him tightly back. "You'll learn," was all he said, running his fingers through my hair. "Don't think too much about it, kitten. You'll learn how to block him out eventually, to ignore him."
"Promise?" I whispered, just for some sort of security. He never lied to me, never broke his promises. I wanted to be like that. I wanted to be like him.
"I promise. Trust me on this."
I nodded my head meekly before slowly sliding from the embrace in order to look at him. "I do trust you," I told him honestly.
"Good, because I wouldn't do anything to break that trust. Just like, in order for you to keep my trust, you're going to start telling me the truth about things, like what's bothering you and whatnot. Even if that means getting into your past." I must've made a face when he said that, because he cracked a small smile and petted my hair. "Talking about things can make stuff easier. It takes a lot of weight off your shoulders."
"Yeah?" I hummed, teetering on the fine line between believing him or brushing his words off as some load of crap he must've gotten from his mom's magazines or something.
"Yeah." He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on my lips, making the rest of the tension I was feeling slowly melt from my shoulders. He pulled back after several seconds, his warm brown eyes with tiny flecks of gold around the pupil making me float. The gaze he held in them was full of adoration and protectiveness, of many promises, and even love (though I wasn't sure what type of love, exactly). His eyes spoke of alleviation, something I found myself hungering much more profoundly for than any other sort of sustenance.
"Gabriel!" a voice of motherly love, different from the one Evan's eyes spoke of so I could cross that out, called from downstairs. He'd been right; the 'intruders' were just my parents after all. "Are you upstairs?"
Evan opened his mouth to respond, but I shook my head at him and tapped his neck, which was a signal for his throat. "Don't stress it," I told him. He made a face at me. "Yeah, we are," I responded in a louder voice than usual, though it probably just sounded like a regular talking voice to anyone else.
"Oh, well, come on down, dinner's here," my mom said. I sighed. I wasn't hungry whatsoever, even less than usual, to be exact. I was full from the hot cocoa and snacks Evan and I had been munching on throughout our movie marathon.
"You ruined my appetite," I told him on a lighter note.
"What appetite?" he teased back, patting the side of my face and laughing at my expression before standing up. I took the hand he offered me and pulled myself up with it. I unlocked my door, but before I could exit the room, he pressed my back against his chest and nuzzled my neck. I froze, wary of the position.
"By the way, it's okay if we can't be as intimate as other couples," he said, making my heart flutter. "We'll get there eventually. And if we don't, that's okay, too. I just want you to be happy, and I want you to know that I'd never force you into anything that you aren't comfortable with."
My eyes, after so long of trying to keep the waterworks at bay, leaked a teardrop or three. He said this was about me. He wanted me to be happy, to know that I also had an upper hand in the relationship and could do things at my own pace. Evan was going against everything he taught me; he was telling me that I could be my own person with control over everything I did, and even parts of him, too.
I could control his swearing. I could control how close he got, how deep the kisses were, how long the lip-locks lasted. I could tell him where he was and wasn't allowed to touch me.
Evan was treating me like I was a person with choices and decisions that should be respected, and it made me overflow with joy. I was becoming normal, wasn't I? I wasn't going to be the same dog that had to obey his master's every beck and call like he had taught me; I was going to be a human again.
"Thank you," was all I told him. I turned my head to kiss his cheek before I broke his hold on me and went downstairs. I wiped any hints of crying away from my cheeks and eyes just in time as I walked into the kitchen to see my mom and dad standing there, talking. When my mom saw me, she immediately hushed and broke into a smile.
"Gabriel, sweetheart, how're--oh, my gosh, what happened to your arms?" she gasped, her smile disappearing and worry soon overcoming her expression. I mentally started to scorn myself; I had completely forgotten about the scratches! Well, almost. They still stung and ached, but I'd been so distracted I mostly just ignored them as if they weren't even there.
"He had a nightmare," Evan told her from behind me. I inwardly groaned. The whole point of him even being allowed to spend the night was to help me sleep better without any nightmares, and now that my parents knew that the plan obviously had not worked, they would probably never allow him to sleepover again.
"A nightmare?" my dad asked, his eyes just as distraught and pained as my mother's. "What kind of nightmare makes him claw up his own arms?"
"It got really extreme," Evan mumbled. "I blame myself. I fell asleep on accident, and when I woke up he was already in the middle of a terrorizing nightmare. I got him out of it eventually, but not before he started scratching himself up. I feel awful, and I'm really sorry," he mumbled, sounding regretful and upset.
"N-no, no, it wasn't his fault--Evan, it wasn't your fault," I told him, turning around and cupping his face in my hands almost immediately. I didn't want him to blame something he couldn't control on himself. It wasn't his fault. As I tilted his chin up, I caught the same glassy look in his eyes that mine always had before I cried. He jerked his chin away from me and turned his head, refusing to meet my gaze. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, purrowing as I swiveled back to face my parents. My mother looked heartbroken and on the verge of tears, and my dad was obviously angry and confused. I just hoped their feelings weren't toward Evan.
"He saved me from a second night terror earlier in the morning, though," I told them, wrapping my arms around my chest self-conciously since my parents wouldn't stop looking at them. "He woke me up before I was even fully aware of having one. I feel a lot better now, okay? So if we could all just not be mad at him and instead focus your anger on someone who deserves it, like me, that'd--"
"Gabriel, we're not mad anyone, especially not you or Evan," my father cut in, halting me from saying anything else.
"You're not?" I asked, a bit disbelieving. He didn't look not mad.
"Of course not," my mother whispered with a delicate shake of her head. Her bright blue eyes were heart-rending, and the makeup at the corners of her eyes were smudged from wiping away tears. My happier mood from earlier started to collapse at the sight of my own mother's tears, and my father's light bloodshot eyes.
It sucked being a constant burden that kept your parents on the verge of tears everyday.
"Just . . . we're just a little sad, is all." Her voice went muffled as she bit her bottom lip, most likely to suppress any more sobs or whimpers. "At least you don't look as tired," she offered after several long, awkward moments of silence. I let myself give her a tiny smile.
"I'm not." And that was the truth.
She focused her eyes on Evan, who still had his head down. "Evan?" she asked. He raised his head, respectfully giving her his full attention. She smiled at him and pulled him into a hug. He glanced around, confused, before simply hugging her back. Their embrace lasted for a good minute or so, and I was pretty sure I saw my mom whisper something to him for his ears only. Then they pulled away, and my mother was wiping her eyes again.
"So, would you like to stay for dinner?" she offered him. He shook his head, declining politely.
"No, thank you. I've got to head back home."
"Oh, of course. Tell your mother I said hello."
"Sure thing," he said before turning around, not even glancing at me as he went. I furrowed my brows.
"Can I walk him to the door?" I asked, already stepping out of the kitchen. My mom nodded, and my father continued to keep silent. I turned around and nearly raced towards the front door just as Evan had his hand on the doorknob. I grabbed his sleeve, which belonged to his personally customized Clydesdale High football hoodie that all of the team members had, and he held still.
"Yeah?" he asked, looking at his feet.
I hesitated, trying to vie for something to say, but in the end I just whispered, "You didn't say goodbye."
He didn't respond, just pressed his forehead against the front door.
"Are you mad at me or something?" I mean, why else would he be acting like this?
He shook his head, turning his face so that we could look at each other. His eyebrows were furrowed, his brown eyes dark in the dim lighting. But I could've sworn I caught them glistening. "Of course not. It's just, your parents' reactions to your arms really . . . ugh. God, you have no idea how bad I feel about all this, Gabe. I feel awful about those scratches. I'm sorry."
I leaned closer to him. "Well, don't, because it wasn't your fault. I should just, like, go file my nails or something. Maybe get a pedicure, huh?" I teased, trying to make him smile.
"I think you mean manicure," he chuckled, his fingertips lightly brushing the side of my cheek.
"No, pedicures are for hands, and manicures are for feet." Right?
"You've got them switched," he said, and I could see his smile widen.
"We'd make terrible females," I concluded simply, and he laughed again. Then coughed.
"I dunno," he said, speaking in a playfully arrogant tone, "you kind of have a really pretty face and figure, you know? You might be able to pass off as one easily."
"Shut up," I laughed, connecting my lips with his own in a kiss that was meant to comfort him, the same way his kisses comforted me. I wanted him to know that the scratches on my arms weren't his fault, to know that everything would be okay and that there was nothing to worry about. At least, just for right now.
He moved his mouth against mine slowly, his lips parting in a way almost as if he were breathing me in and trying to take as much of my sadness away as I was to him. I cupped his cheeks, grateful for my mind finally allowing me to kiss him without fear. Even if that was all it was and ever could be, a long kiss simply made to tell each other that we were here, and neither of us were going anywhere.
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Note
First of all, let me just tell you that I put certain chains of events into the story much earlier than I should've. That's why it took so long for me to update; I had to backpedal my thoughts and rearrange multiple scenes. Hopefully I won't be so stupid next time....But, yeah. That's why this chapter is kind of confusing/suckish and a bit weird/awkward. Really sorry about that, guys :I
Merry Christmas to you all, too xx And if you don't celebrate Christmas, then happy holidays in general! This chapter was supposed to be a gift from me to you, but it kind of sucks, so...sorry about the crappy present. No refunds, either :L
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