Damn, I Hate You

He said he was ok, but I could see him wince as he bent down on the couch. We were sitting now. I knew he wouldn't be able to have me near him, not right now. I don't know if it was because he was in physical pain or if it was because of what his dad had said to him. Wow, if his dad always said stuff like that to him, I understand why he was so scared to have someone show any affection towards him.

I didn't know if I should say anything or be quiet. I didn't know what I should do. Finally, after realizing my uneasiness and after a few sighs and grunts as he adjusted his posture, he patted his lap. I leaned down onto him and lied across the couch. He looked a little more comfortable this time, but his leg tensed a little and I felt him twitch a little.

"So you sure you're ok?" He asked, looking down worriedly at me. Why wouldn't I be? Because I just saw the boy that I've always loved and wanted to be happy get the shit beaten out of him by his dad?

"I should be asking you!" I exclaimed. He leaned his head back and groaned a little bit.

"No, I'm not." he said. I patted his hand, which was warmly over my stomach, rubbing me to sooth me. I should be comforting him. He's so backwards with everything, it's sad!

I started to get up, but he stopped me. "No. I- uh, wait, are you leaving? I'm sorry! He won't be back for hours! It's ok." He said, his eyes pleading me to stay just where I was.

"I was just going to get you some pain medication and some ice." I assured him. "I wouldn't leave you even if he did come back." I smiled at him and he winced as his smile spread across his bruised face.

I got up and went to his cabinets. "Where are your meds?" I asked, but found them right as I did. "Oh, never mind." I brought some ice in a paper towel and pressed it against his face.

"Ah, no. Trust me, that never makes it feel better." he said, looking incredibly pained.

"But it reduces the swelling." I informed him and put it back on his cheek. He looked at me as I resumed my position, my back on his lap and head on the arm of the couch so I could see if he was ok. He reached his hand over and stroked my head.

"You're so... god, I love you." He said. I thought he was going to cry; his eyes were welled and they looked like they were about to spill out the tears, but he stopped them from getting past his lashes. "I feel like such a sissy when I'm with you. I haven't cried in years and then you come in my life and ruin it all." he laughed, but stopped immediatly, instinctively bringing a hand to his rib cage.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Hospital sounds like a good idea, at this point.

He shook his head. "I'll be fine." he said, and continued to run his fingers through my hair. "Oh check it out! Hoodwinked is on!" He exclaimed as we scrolled by cartoon network on the list of channels. I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

"You really need to grow up." I teased him.

"Psh, screw that. Growing up is for uptight losers who think they know everything." he said, pretending to sound bitter dispite his smile.

"Oh, and you don't consider yourself that?" I challenged him.

"Uh, no. I think it's apparent that I'm a laid-back loser who KNOWS he knows everything, thank you very much." He said, snobbishly.

"Wow, if I didn't know you better, I'd assume you were a bit stuck up." I said, eyeing him to see what his response to that was.

"Haha, and yet if you really knew me, you'd be certain I was stuck up. Face it, I'm the greatest mind to bless this planet." He said, definatly faking the snob roll. I giggled.

"Well someone's had his head in the clouds too long." I said.

"Better than havin it up my ass like some other people out there." He stated simply. Why does he always have to be so smart? I envy him sometimes. Then I looked at his face and the bruises and scars that lined his body and reminded myself that envy isn't what I really feel for him.