Dreaming Up A Secret

I smiled as Aiden limped his way into the bed tiredly, then groaned as his cell went off.
“Hello?” He waited a few seconds before repeating himself.
A confused expression crossed his face as he continued to repeat himself. I grabbed the cell phone out of his hands and glanced at the screen before laughing.
“Aiden, you got a text, not a call.”
“Mehhhhhhh,” he responded, his face buried in a pillow.
I passed him back his cell phone and his face immediately read loud and clear with fear.
“What?” I asked him as he began shaking.
“Oh, shit,” I glanced at his cell.
It was a text from his dad.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he jumped up suddenly.
~ Aiden’s Point of View ~
I stumbled my way over to the bathroom with my bag in my hand. The most important thing I had put in there was my razor. No, not to shave, but to cut. Yes, you heard right, I cut myself.
I dug through my bag and sighed in relief as I found it. I can’t say I liked cutting, I just…did.
I pulled my thumb out of the small hole and brought up my sleeve so that my wrist was visible, all the cuts along with it. Turning the sink on for background noise, I pressed the razor down across my wrist and slide it back and forth until I was bleeding.
“Hate,” I muttered, “hate, hate, hate.”
I looked down at the lines that were running up and down my arms. Angry little lines, screaming red blood. None of the scars would ever disappear. They were here, a forever reminder.
I turned off the sink, but stayed where I was, tears mingling with blood beneath me.
“Aiden?” I heard his voice leak in through the door.
“Y-ya?” I stuttered through the pain.
“Are you ok?”
“Y-ya,” I lied.
“No you’re not,” he knew me to well.
“I’m f-fine.”
“Aiden, let me in, I know you weren’t showering,” he insisted.
“N-no, I wa-was,” lie.
“Aidy, please!” His voice was panicked.
“I’m f-fine.”
“Aiden, baby, I love you please.”
I sighed and stopped the bleeding quickly before I pulled my sleeve back up and stepped outside the door. I had been careful, so there was no blood to clean up.
“AIDEN!” He hugged me tightly.
“Ronan, its ok.”
“Wh-why is there blood on your shirt?” He asked suddenly.
Shit. I thought I had been neat, but I guess I missed something. Shit, quickly, think up a lie.
“Uh, I, uh, tripped.”
Lie. Lie. Lie.
And he knew it.
None the less, I ignored the most obvious awkward silence ever and walked over to the bed, cursing my ever being born. I picked up my phone and ran my finger gently along it. I felt like crying because I knew it was never going to end. My dad would always be after me. He didn’t just want me out of the house. He wanted me dead. He hated everything I ever was, just like he would always hate everything I would always do.
I clutched my knees to my chest and bit my lip to keep myself from bursting out randomly into tears. In my mind, it would make perfect sense, but to Ronan, it would probably seem like me being weird and overly emotional again. Why the Hell he liked me I had no fucking clue. He was perfect. He was sweet and kind, always worrying about me, he was protective and willing to do way to much for me. He was slim but kinda strong, he was a skater boy, he had the most perfect hair which was a mix between dark brown and black and sometimes fell into his eyes, his lips were soft and oh so kissable, he could have any boy he wanted. He was what turned straight boys gay.
~ Ronan’s Point Of View ~
Aiden sat on my bed, biting his lip gently, running his fingers over his phone slowly. I wanted to help him and I would have had I had any clue what to do. He was so upset, and what he had said was clearly a lie. I starred at him, I loved him so much. He seemed to hate himself. I could hear him earlier when he was pretending to shower, he had been whispering ‘hate, hate’ over and over again. Not that I was eaves dropping, cuz I wasn’t. I could hear him from my bed. I had a good ear.
Now from the bed, he was trying to keep himself quiet. I hated seeing him like this. I wanted him to be happy, to be smiling his bright like he did when I first met him. I couldn’t help but hate myself. He was going through Hell for me, I didn’t deserve him.
I walked over to the bed and stood in front of him, “Ronan?”
“Ya, Aiden, what is it?”
“What if you were wrong?”
“Huh, about what?”
“My dad.”
I didn’t know what to say. Mostly because I was pretty sure I was wrong about Aiden’s dad. He wanted Aiden’s life to be a living fucking Hell.
So I just said, “I don’t know, Aiden, I don’t know.”
He let out a tiny whine.
“I wanna lie to you, tell you everything is going to be fine, but I don’t have a fucking clue. All I know is that I’m gunna be with you, I’m gunna protect you from that fucking douchebag.” Another wave of anger washed through me.
I looked at his innocent face. How…How could someone even dream of hurting him. I ran over it again and again in my mind, but I could never come up with a decent reason. He was so tiny.
I thought about seeing him shirtless, the small bruises that had covered him. The different shapes they had taken. Fists, lamps, small tables. I shuttered thinking about these things coming in contact with my boyfriend.
I shuttered and walked off, explaining, “I’m going to take a shower.”
~ Aiden’s Point Of View ~
Well I was still thinking my overly depressing thoughts, Ronan stood stock still, starring down at me.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Ronan explained before walking off.
About twenty minutes later, Ronan burst out of the bathroom, unfortunately, fully dressed, but more importantly, tears streaming down his face like tiny crystal droplets.
“Baby? What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.
He didn’t speak, just crumbled to the ground. I could see he was working hard to recompose himself, but failing epically. I rolled off the bed and dropped to the ground beside him, engulfing him in a hug. He pressed his head into my shoulder and proceed to soak my shirt through, not that I was complaining, I loved having him so close, I just felt bad for him. His face was uncharacteristically pale, giving me he impression he might pass out. I hoped not.
“Baby?” I repeated.
Ronan barely ever cried. I hugged him tighter into me as he continued to sniffle. He reached into his sweatshirt pocket and began to fish something out. What I saw when his hand returned made me wanna slap myself. I had forgot to bring my razor out, so there it was, sitting in his shaking hand, covered in blood.
I had no excuse.
“Wh-why?” It sounded like that was what he was trying to say, but it came out almost completely incomprehensibly mucked with tears.
“I-I-” I had nothing to say, so I simply said, “I’m sorry.”
He gasped for breath through his tears. I sat completely still in front of him, my head blank, no thoughts going through it. I couldn’t imagine what was happening to Ronan. I shouldn’t mean this much to him.
I gently wiped a tear from his face, though it really made no difference because so many others soon trailed down to replace it.
“Ronan, I-I-I-I,” I had no way to finish that sentence.
He took my arm in his hand, but it was shaking so uncontrollably that I could not resist but to reach out and steady it with my own. He slowly took deep, deliberate breaths until his hand was still. Then he worked his hand up to my wrist and peeled off my sweatshirt sleeve only to reveal my second sleeve. With a sigh, he pulled that off to and immediately began shaking again. The little desperate lines, with the new one, still visibly open were all up and down me.
He traced his finger sloppily down the freshest one. He couldn’t keep it still, it looked like a drunk man trying to walk a straight line to prove to a police officer he wasn’t drunk when he most obviously was.
Another sob escaped his lips and I was soon fighting the notion to kiss him. Now was really not the right time, but…if it would make him feel better. That’s how I reasoned with myself, at least.
I leaned in to kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck, underneath of his hair. He sniffled once more before sighing and finding a stride of silent tears.
“I l-l-l,” he tried to say, whispering gently, his hot breath tickling my ear.
“'S okay, babe.”
He starred down at my wrist again, tears still dripping from his face.
“Why?”
“I don’t know…I guess it helped me deal with everything.”
“But…you could’ve talked to me, you could’ve told me something was wrong, you could’ve…anything else.”
“I…I…I didn’t wanna bother you, I guess. I just couldn‘t, I couldn‘t make you sad!”
“Babe, I wouldn’t be!”
“I guess I thought you would leave me…” I finally confided.
He wrapped me up tightly in his arms again, “never. Nothing you ever tell me could make me wanna leave you. Even if you wanted me dead, I would still stalk you.”
I smiled into his neck, tears now on my face too, but tears of…relief, happiness, I think. After a few minutes, he pulled back and starred at me, “never again.”
“Huh?”
“Never again, you can’t.”
“Can’t…?”
“This!” He motioned at my wrist, “never again.”
I stayed silent. It wasn’t that easy. I knew I had Ronan for help when I was down, I knew he wanted to be there for me, but it, cutting that is, was like…heroine. It was addictive. Once you started, it was nearly impossible to stop, not something you could just decide one day and drop the razor. His eyes burned into me with a hot intensity, making me hate myself for not being able to stop.
“I…”another tear fell from Ronan’s eyes and I stopped, watching it fall down his face and land in his lap.
I couldn’t just tell him no. So I lied. I know, its kinda dumb, and I hate lying to my boyfriend, but I love him to much to hurt him more.
“Ok, I’ll stop.”