A/N: Sorry I haven't updated, I've been having some personal issues and I'm in the process of moving to Germany.
But hopefully you guys won't hate me anymore after this ~(._.)~
YEs it is sappy and emotional, I'm sorry. God I have to watch a slasher film after every one of these. Anyone want to join me~? There will be boob jokes, candy, and popcorn. AnD CUDDLes!!
now
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[LONNIE’S POV]
It had been hours since I last saw Preston, and I was freaking out. We had exhausted ourselves looking all last night, even to the point where Jesse started sobbing. I admit, I felt defeated. It was all my fault. I had gotten him to trust me, and then I crushed it in one moment of massive stupidity.
I groaned, rolling around in my bed as I tried to wake myself up.
We came back early this morning at three a.m, and we all practically fainted the moment we stumbled through the door. Jesse just seemed to hate me more and more as the night wore on, and I have to say, I was following him in that respect.
He even got so frantic, that he showed up at his parent’s house and begged them to help. They slammed the door in his tear streaked face. Before the door shut I saw guilt in his mother’s face, and I hoped she would come help. But apparently her love for her children wasn’t strong enough.
The door to my room opened and Jesse stepped in, disgust in his silver eyes that were so like Preston's, it made my heart ache at the broken edges.
“Get up,” he demanded, “we need to keep looking. I’m not giving up, and you’re helping because your selfishness caused all of this.”
And with that, he stormed out of the room, leaving me alone with my own festering sense of self hatred.
I stood slowly, every inch of my body feeling achy from the exertion of the previous day. Stumbling into the bathroom, I raked a hand through my hair and glanced at my reflection.
My brown and caramel hair was a mess, tangled around my tired face. The skin of my face was ghostly pale and weary. I had purple bags under my brown eyes, which were bloodshot from lack of sleep and an insane amount of tears.
My feet carried me to the shower, the rest of my body incredibly numb as I peeled the clothing off my skin. The wicked pain of dysphoria barely registered with me due to the fact that it just blended in with the agony of guilt that washed over me in waves and lapped at the edges of my ragged heart.
My teeth clenched and I hissed through my teeth when the icy cold water splashed across my shoulders. I just dealt with it, figuring it was well deserved.
I stepped out of the shower, my feet padding across the floor, my hair dripping on the tile. Toweling myself dry, I gathered my clothes and tugged on the grunged up gray jeans, my binder, and an oversized black sweater. Lastly, I slipped on a pair of gray ankle socks and red vans.
Jesse ushered Mason and I out the door and into the car.
We drove without aim around the town, the atmosphere steadily becoming more dismal.
“Oh!” I cried, suddenly struck with a thought.
It was around one p.m at this point, and we were all miserable.
“What?” Jesse cried, annoyed, “want to drive my boyfriend away too?!”
“No,” I ground out angrily, “I think I know where Preston is.”
“Oh…” he said awkwardly, “well where is he?”
“Ashton’s house,” I explained, “it’s the only place we haven’t looked and the only place he’d really go willingly.”
And with that, Jesse told Mason to gun it. We were there within moments.
Jesse practically busted down the door before a disheveled looking Ashton answered the door.
“Oh god where is he please tell me he’s here,” Jesse begged, the tears welling in his eyes again.
Ashton glanced over us and stiffened when he saw me.
“The dickle in the black sweater has to stay outside because he’s a weiner dog.The not cute ones, the ones that are actual penises.” he said coldly.
Jesse shrugged, “I’m good with that.”
Mason sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Look, he may have done something shitty, but he’s been just as torn up as the rest of us,” Jesse shot him an incredulous look, “and don’t give me that look Jess. You know he has been. Just let him and Preston talk it out. And if by the end of it, Preston wants nothing to do with Lonnie, so be it. But we can’t treat them like misbehaving children.”
Jesse just appeared defeated, and Ashton begrudgingly let us inside.
However, when I tripped over his outstretched foot, I knew I wasn’t yet forgiven.
We all made our way up the stairs, Jesse nearly crying with excitement at finding his brother. I was just numb, toxic thoughts worming themselves into my brain.
What if he hated me?
Of course he did, dumbass.
What if he cries again?
Would he run away again?
Oh god, what if he hurt himself?
My movements became more frantic and suddenly I was dying to see his face, to hear his voice and make sure he was alright, to hold him in my arms and take away all his pain. My chest ached at the impossibility, and I nearly broke down again.
Never would I get to kiss his lips again.
Never would I be able to hold his small hand in my own.
Never would I cradle him against me until he fell asleep.
Never could I see him smile cutely again.
Or flush in embarrassment.
Or giggle at something stupid I said.
Or roll his eyes at me.
Wait, why was my vision going black?
Oh shit, was I fainting?!
Fuck, that was lame.
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I woke up to several stunned faces blinking owlishly at me. I groaned deep in the back of my throat and everyone jumped as if I had sent electricity flowing through my dick and at their faces.
I smirked, chucking.
“Well aint that sweet? Y’all are so concerned for me, it’s heartwarming,” I drawled, my voice dripping in acidic sarcasm.
Mason scowled at me and hefted me to my feet, smacking me in the back of the head.
“Don’t be a douchebag,” he commanded, “You’re fucking lucky Preston is a heavy sleeper, or that shit would have woken him up.”
“Wait,” I said, confused, “he’s asleep? It’s afternoon.”
“He hasn’t been getting much sleep, dicknipple,” Ashton seethed at me, “it could be due to the fact someone here as an insensitive moron that probably doubles as the kiddie snatcher.”
I felt a pang of guilt and then a rush of indignation at his obvious contempt for me over a situation he didn’t understand.
“Look, I was only the kiddie snatcher for Halloween once, okay?” I argued heatedly, cocking my head to the side and gripping my hip in my hand.
“Oh god,” Mason groaned, dragging his hand down his face, “how hard did you hit your head when you fell?”
Jesse snorted.
“I think you’ve become even stupider, if that’s possible,” he smirked, crossing his arms.
I just scowled and pushed past them, storming into a random room.
A random room that happened to contain a soundly sleeping Preston.
My heart spasmed in my chest and I gripped my shirt tightly in my hand, gritting my teeth tightly against the pain.
My feet moved forward of their own accord and I slowly made my way across the room that was now a blur for me.
This would probably be the last time I would seem him not angry at me. I wanted to cherish this moment.
So, yeah, I did an Edward Cullen. I watched the boy sleep.
He was curled in the fetal position under a mass of blankets, his blonde hair strewn across his pale forehead and cheeks. His soft pink lips were slightly parted and he wore two tight black rings in one side, the soft woosh of breath passing through them. His eyes were red and swollen, tears clinging to his quivering lashes. I realized he had cried himself to sleep, like all those times back home. I winced at yet another thing I had failed at with him.
My fingers twitched at my side and I stretched them forward tentatively, brushing his cheek lightly with my left palm, cradling his face in my hand. I brushed my thumb rhythmically under his eye, trying to soothe the ache and swell that was sure to be there.
And for a moment, everything was peaceful.
I should have known it wouldn’t last.
“The fuck are you doing here?” he muttered sleepily, halfheartedly pushing my hand away.
“We came to get you,” I said quietly.
“Ashton, that fucktard,” he breathed, sleep thick in his voice, muffling any anger, “I suppose I should accept my suffering and just come back, huh?” he chuckled bitterly, standing and stretching.
I stayed silent, letting him gather his things and slip on his shoes.
We stepped out of the room and Jesse gasped, flinging himself at Preston, hugging him sightly. Mason smiled exhaustedly, looking completely and utterly defeated.
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“So you wanted to talk to me?” Preston spoke emotionlessly, sitting down next to me in the courtyard of the apartment complex.
We were sat on a freezing metal bench up against the building, directly in front of the parking lot, with one of those ashtray things next to us. It was a loose use of the word ‘courtyard’, let me tell you.
“Yeah,” I bit my bottom lip with nerves, “I want to talk to you about what happened the other day.”
A glimpse of pain flashed across his face before he composed himself and became stoic again.
“Y’eh? So speak,” he stated flippantly, as if nothing I said could change his mind. And he was probably right. But hey, A for effort and all.
I explained how one of the people I met at the community GSA had come over and what ensued moments after. I told him about how broken I was after he left, and that I chewed the guy out and promised him death. I left out the part where I revealed I was FtM, because fuck knows he would be even more disgusted with me after that.
“So you really didn’t mean to kiss that guy?” he asked quietly, staring at the ground by his black Vans covered feet.
“I made a commitment to you,” I promised, “I would never cheat on anyone I was in any kind of relationship with, ever, no matter the circumstances.”
“So,” he said slowly, “do you actually like me?”
“Of course,” I answered confidently, my veins burning with the proclamation.
His face flushed red and I smiled widely, my heart swelling. Just seeing that was enough to warm my chest.
“What are we then?” he questioned softly.
“Whatever you want to be,” I uttered honestly, with the same volume as he had. I swear if this boy got any quieter he would be mute.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked, pain lacing every word he spoke.
“For what?” I asked, bewildered. Shouldn’t that be me apologizing?
“I stormed out on you, I wrote you off as something you aren’t. I ran away for fucks sake!” he exclaimed, shocked that I hadn’t come to the same conclusion. And I hadn’t, not even close. Because he was dead wrong, and I would make him see that.
I reached out, cupping his cheeks that were flushed with cold.
“Look at me,” I commanded, and his silver eyes drifted up from the ground to meet mine, “you are not in the wrong here, I am.”
He shook his head silently, and his eyes filled with tears, still locked on mine.
“No,” I said with more force, “I hurt you. I made you cry. I made you run away. I was careless,” he choked on his tears and continued to shake his head in denial, “you had no way of knowing. You reacted the way anyone would. You were in pain. And for that, I am truly sorry.” I spoke earnestly, emphasizing my every word.
He said nothing, just trembled against my hands, and I knew it wasn’t from the cold. He looked so lost, so alone. So I couldn’t help myself.
I leaned forward, gently tipping his head up towards mine. My lips fell on his slowly, deliberately, and he melted against me, softly tugging at the back of my shirt. I moved my hands to cradle his head as I deepened the kiss, earning myself a quiet whimper from Preston. A thrill went through me at the innocent noise, and I promised myself I would hear it again, and hear more.
We broke apart slowly, and he gazed up at me, his eyes glazed over and his lips swollen red. I grinned cheekily at him and he blushed down to his neck.
He reached for me tentatively, biting his lip in hesitation. Finally, he wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled himself onto my lap, his head resting lightly in the crook of my neck. I kissed the top of his head and he pulled back, smiling softly as he brushed the hair out of my eyes, his sleeve rolling up his arm in the process. A sliver of horror trickled down my spine to rest in my stomach, sinking to sickly dread.
“What’s that?” I asked in panic.
“Your hair being brushed back..?” he said in confusion.
“No, that!” I brushed my fingers across his wrist, which was decorated in deep red criss crosses.
He winced, tugging his arm back against himself.
“Would you believe me if I said it was the cat?”
“You’re allergic.”
He looked away and I sighed, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Please just tell me Preston, I won’t judge you, I swear.”
He took a shuddering breath and his eyes flitted back to me.
“It-It started the night my parents kicked me out. I just...I needed to relieve the emotional pain, an-and it made me feel so good...I broke up my family. I broke up my family and it was m-my fault! So I deserved to feel pain, I deserved to hurt.”
My heart panged with guilt that I had never realized this, and that he even felt these things. I was sick to my stomach.
“How much..?” I managed, swallowing the lump in my throat.
He bit down on his lip, obviously reluctant to tell me.
“Can I..?” I questioned, my fingers drifting towards his arm.
He nodded, and I gently rolled up his sleeve to reveal the angry deep slashes. I winced, stroking my fingers over the marks with a feather light touch. I rolled the sleeve up higher and saw the went all the way up to his bicep. My entire being ached and I tilted my head downwards, placing my lips against the crook of his elbow. I gathered him in my arm and held him tight against me.
“I used to do the same, you know,” I murmured in his ear.
“Really?” he whispered roughly.
“Yeah,” I placed a kiss on his neck and pulled back, rolling up my sleeves to show him the shimmering scars that lined my arms.
“If I can overcome this, then so can you, beautiful.”
He smiled with trembling lips and kissed me softly before pulling away.
“As long as I have you, I think I can do anything,” he mumbled, red in the face.
“Good,” I pecked his lips, “because as of now, I’m officially your boyfriend.”
And then he gave me the first genuine smile I’ve seen from him in a long time.
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A/N: Sooooo....do you guys hate me now?