Skin and Bones

Gerard lets go of my hand and turns around.

“So,” he exhales – his shoulders dropping while his lips rise up at the corners.
“What do you want for breakfast?” His smile turns a bit uneasy – probably because he senses my queasiness. My throat suddenly seems to twist around itself while my stomach is doing back-flips. I’m not nauseous, just…not comfortable.
“Do you want some yoghurt?” I try to swallow, but I can’t. I shake my head.
“Okay. Uhm.” Gerard hums as he looks around the kitchen. He bites his thumb nail for a second, before he points to the stove.
“I suck at pancakes, but I can make you an omelet if you want? I’m not guaranteeing anything good.” He laughs lightly. I only manage to bring up a small smile.

“You really don’t have to make anything,” I manage to say – my voice small and childish. I look down at my feet.

“I want to.” I don’t answer, nor do I look up. I grab the hem of my shirt with both hands and wring it lightly. There’re no pockets in Mikey’s old sweats – no place to hide my hands.
“Hey,” Gerard says quickly, before he – just as quickly – walks over to me and takes both of my hands into his.
“I want to help.” I bite my lip, before I look up at Gerard’s soft eyes. I can’t help but smile – a bit wider and more genuine this time.
“Just tell me what to do.” An encouraging smile spreads its way onto his gorgeously smooth lips and my own grows bigger.

For a minute or two, we just stand there – smiling hand in hand. Usually I’d feel self-conscious if someone stared at me for that long, but right now it’s more comforting than anything. It’s like my own body doesn’t exist, even though I can feel Gerard’s fingers intertwine with mine. For once in my life, it’s like my insides mean more than my outsides.
Something behind me makes a noise, but when Gerard reluctantly looks, he just shrugs. I guess it was nothing.

“How about cornflakes?” Gerard eyes light up as he asks.
“They’re basically nothing but cornstarch and air with milk on them. You can even eat it dry if you want to.” His eyes are so bright and proud that I can’t help but nod and smile widely. He looks too cute to turn down.
“Awesome,” Gerard says, before he lets go of my hands once again and begins his gathering of utensils, service and food.
“Go sit down.” I smile at his back, before I walk over to the small kitchen table and sit. When I look over at Gerard, he’s stretching up to grab the cereal box on top of the fridge. His worn t-shirt rides up. I stare intensely at the small, white, perfect patch of skin that’s peeking out from under the black piece of clothing. I feel like licking it; biting it; eating it.
“So, milk or not?” Gerard asks and I snap out of my trance. He’s sitting at the table – right next to me – and is pouring milk into his own bowl. There’s a bowl of dry cornflakes in front of me.
I can’t help but silently laugh at myself.

I don’t answer, but instead just pick up a cornflake. It’s thin – the dim light shining through its dull, yellow color. It’s just what Gerard said it would be; cornstarch and air – nothing more.

I look down at the white table while I bring the little piece of ‘food’ to my lips. I keep it there for a while. I don’t know what’s stopping me – what’s keeping me from parting my lips. I want to. I want to part my lips and eat something as empty as a cornflake, but I just keep still – frozen.

I close my eyes – breaking my gaze – and take a bite. It’s tiny – barely even there. I chew on it with my front teeth – the tip of my tongue pressed against it. I hear it crunch between my teeth as tiny flashes of taste tickle down my tongue and throat – into my lungs.
I exhale as if I had smoke in my lungs – a long and strong exhale.

I look down at the rest of the single cornflake. Then I put the entire thing in between my teeth. It lands on my tongue – it’s dull, dry, yet sugary, taste pricking against my taste buds. Slowly I break the little flake into smaller pieces until it’s nothing but dust in my mouth. There’s barely anything to swallow. It slides down easily.

I look down at the bowl. I stare at all the flakes and feel a heavy feeling in my chest – like a burden. Or maybe it’s guilt.
There’s one cornflake that looks like an arrow – one end of it dull and round, the other sharp and pointing towards me.
The heavy feelings falls into my stomach and settles right where the arrow is pointing at. The heaviness turns into a stabbing feeling.
I can still taste the sugar on the edges of my tongue – my exhales whipping it up again and again.

Suddenly Gerard grabs onto my arm and slides his light touch down my arm until his palm is against mine – his pinky wrapping around my thumb.
I look up into his eyes and can’t help but smile. He looks proud.