Eat My Heart Out

He stirs. I think he might feel me looking at him, but I'm not sure. He could just be dreaming like I did. I kinda hope he does. Maybe then, he can see things from my point of view, and then he'll forgive me.

He opens his eyes and looks directly at me. He doesn't flinch at all. For a moment, I wonder if he's even awake, but when he blinks, I know he is. I try not to flinch or move so that I won't scare him, but my heart is going crazy in my chest.

But then, he just closes his eyes.

Should I say something? Didn't he see me through the dark, after all?

He opens his eyes again, and this time, I can't help but flinch. He stares into my eyes. His are lighting up in the darkness, but not like they used to be – not like I remember them. My stomach hurts and my eyes start to burn.

Suddenly, he frowns. He seems to focus his eyes more and wake up completely.

“Go away, Gerard,” he whispers and rolls over onto his back as he draws his sheets up to his chin. He closes his eyes. I look at his emotionless face, while out the corner of my eye, I can see his chest rise and fall under the sheet. He thinks I can't see him under that thin piece of fabric, but I can – I do.
He opens his eyes and turns his head.
“Gerard, get out,” he says more firmly. I swallow.

“No,” I say in the most determined voice I can, but my vocal cords are strained, and the determination in my voice gets overrun by a whisper.

Frank turns his head away from me. The back of his neck is nothing but skin and tendons. His now thin hair hides nothing anymore.

“Leave!”
His breathing is heavier. I can hear it resonate in the room, and I can see his chest move more. He's breathing fast.

He suddenly sits up.

“Go away!” he screams and stares at me with wide, furious eyes. Through the darkness, I can see his bared teeth. They don't shine like they used to either.

He suddenly looks down, and though I didn't see them, he quickly throws the sheet over his shoulders, hiding himself. He looks at me with horror in his eyes, then moves away from me as he keeps making sure that the sheet covers him completely.

“No,” I say, this time determined. His lower lip starts to tremble. I sit still, not wanting to scare him.

I look into his eyes. Though he only returns my eye-contact a few times for mere seconds, I keep my eyes on his. I look him in the eye. I want to see him properly.

“Don't look at me,” he whispers and closes his eyes. A tear rolls down each of his cheeks, glistening in the light I can't tell where's coming from. It might be a street light, or it might just be Frank; the tiny little flame of life that's still in him.

“I need to,” I say. I want him to ask me why. I want him to be curious and ask me what I mean by that. I want him to talk to me.

He doesn't look at me. He keeps his eyes shut, but the tears keep slipping out of them. I look down at his cheeks; his hollow cheeks.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” he screams, but he still doesn't open his eyes. He tries to hide his arm with the sheet as he reaches out for the string on his right. He pulls it.
The string falls down over his hand.

“I cut it,” I say honestly. I cut the string so he can't call the nurses. I want him to talk to me and look at me, and if he can't do that, then I want to see him walk. I want to see that he's still able to walk out of a room and call for help; if that's what he feels like he needs to do.
He sobs.

“Leave me alone.”

“No,” I say quickly. He sobs again. He sits still on his bed, sobbing softly into the sheet. It takes my all not to cry myself. His sadness feels like it's cutting my stomach wide open.
“Look at me?” I ask. I don't ever wanna force him to do anything ever again, but I won't do anything I don't want to do. I don't wanna leave him.

He sobs harder. My stomach hurts more. A tear rolls down my cheek.

I open my mouth to say something, but it only comes out as a sob. I blink several times to let the tears go, and I can't help but sob loudly as I admit to myself how much it hurts seeing him hurt this much.

“Don't-” I sob out; “leave me again.” I wipe my burning tears away from my eyes and look at his closed ones. I innerly beg for him to open his eyes and look at mine.

“Leave, Ger-”

“I'm not gonna leave you!” I scream out, breaking him off and shutting him up. I didn't mean to become this angry, but I am. Or perhaps it's just frustration, but I just can't stand him pushing me away.
“Don't push me away. I know you need me,” I say, pausing to let him sob out loudly, but continue when he quiets down; “I know you need me just as much as I need you.” He sniffles, and sobs again.
“Look at me?” I beg again, pressing the tears away. The sadness is still evident, though.

And he finally does. He lifts his head, takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. Immediately, we find each other in the dark and for a second, it all seems a little easier.

But it all seems easier before it gets harder.

I gasp for breath as I try to get the words out, but it all seems overwhelming right now. All I manage to get out is:

“I love you.”

Frank's jaw quivers. He keeps gazing into my eyes as I gaze into his, only his eyes seem more frightened and worried. I don't know what mine look like, but despite my nervousness, fear and sadness, I feel calm – at least on the outside. Inside, my heart is beating like a sledgehammer, and the longer the silence stretches out, the more my gut twists around itself and the tighter my chest feels. I feel like my heart is being squished.

“Please, say it back?” I beg him. Though my body feels calm – almost numb – on the outside, I can't hide what's going on inside of me when I talk. My voice is weak, uneven and squeaky.

Frank opens his mouth, and I can see slime making bars between his parted lips.

“But,” he presses out, gasping. His breaths are short and quick. I'm worried about him.
“I'm hur-hurting you,” he gasps, trying hard to catch his breath. I blink away the tears that a pushing their way to the edge of my eyes.

“Yes,” I answer honestly; “by not saying it back.”

“I've always lo-” he says loudly, but stops himself before he says the word I long to hear.

“Why won't you say it?” I ask, on the verge of sobbing.

“Because I'll hurt you!” he yells.

“You hurt me when you said you hated me!” I yell back, quickly sobbing afterward. I can't hold it back anymore. I can't stay calm anymore. My straight spine breaks and I bury my face in my hands.

“I didn't mean it!” Frank says loudly. He's crying too. I can hear it in his quivering voice.
“I can never hate you, so why are you hating me?”
Hating him? I just told him I loved him! And he didn't say it back!

I look up.

“You think I hate you? You might not be able to ever hate me, but I am! I hate myself!” I scream the last sentence, then get out of the chair and turn my back to him. I grab onto my chest and pinch the skin, trying to get rid of the pain by causing some more. I feel like falling to the floor and never getting up. I feel like dying.

I hear Frank sob behind me. It sounds like he's saying something in between his sobs, but it makes no sense. I don't understand it.

“You,” he sobs out. That's all that makes sense for a long time.
“You tried.” A bit of the squeezing feeling in my chest goes away, but it still hurts so much that I feel like ripping the skin off of my chest to get rid of the pain.
“I know...you did.” His sobs have become dry, but he still has a hard time uttering his words in clear comprehensible ways.
“You-” I close my eyes. He's talking to me. It isn't until now that it hits me; he's talking to me.

He heard me begging.

“You pushed me away. I just. I wanted to be close to you,” he says, out of breath, but understandable. I frown at his words, but stay quiet. I want to hear him talk. I want to hear him out.
“I just wanted to... to know what you were thinking. What was going on in your head. Why you were so quiet. But you pushed me away.” He sniffles.
“I wanted you to be proud of me. Proud of me for eating. And for taking a stance for animals. But you. But you ignored me.” His voice has gotten more calm, but is still very strained.

I wait for him to say some more. I wait for him to explain. I'm still confused. I still don't understand. I thought I did, but I don't. I'm lost.

But he doesn't say anything. He stays quiet. He doesn't sob. He doesn't cry. I don't even hear him breathing until I turn around. He isn't looking at me, but at his hands. The sheet isn't covering his upper half. I can see his collar bones through his shirt. He's so skinny.

I close my eyes and will the pain away. I almost want the image of what I just saw to go away, but I can't help him if I don't look at him.

I open my eyes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, out of breath myself without even realizing it.

“Mean what?” he whispers, not looking up at me. His head is lowered, as if he's ashamed.

“I,” I try, but rephrase my sentence.
“Did I push you away?” I ask. He lowers his head even further, but then lifts it up and looks at me. His eyes are as hurt as I've ever seen them, and I can't seem to get that. It doesn't hurt to see them. It's like I don't see them, but I do. I just can't...comprehend it. I can't get it through my skull.

“Yes,” he whispers. I flinch back, as if he's slapped me or pushed me.

“When?” I gasp for breath. I feel like I've been punched in the gut.
“How?”
He looks down and I snap out of my paralyzation.

“When you didn't wanna talk with me. You didn't wanna talk about school. You didn't wanna hear about my being a vegetarian. You didn't wanna talk about me playing the guitar.” He played the guitar? He plays? What? When? I-
“You pushed me away. You didn't listen and you didn't say anything.”

His voice is so hurt, but it still can't get through to me. I still can't...understand how hurt he is.

“I though,” he presses out, then suddenly sobs. His sob seems to come out of nowhere. He was just calm; totally quiet and almost relaxed.
“I thought you didn't want me anymore because I was so ugly.” I get punched in the gut again, slapped in the face and hit in the head.
“I was fat,” he sobs out.

And that's when it hits me. The sound of Frank's sobs fade out and all I hear is my own blood rush past my ears like an rebellious sea. The hairs all over my body rises, leaving me so cold that I almost shiver. I suddenly understand how sad he is and why he is. I suddenly understand.

“I'm- I'm- I'm-” I can't get the words out. I can't talk. I can't... I can't. I- I mean, I-

I-

I walk over to his bed and sit on it. It suddenly feels as if my skin is on fire, even though there's an ocean crashing and breaking in my ears.

“I'm sorry,” I gasp out, unable to catch my breath.
“I-” I want to say so many things, but I can't even make those things clear in my head. My mind is just...blank. I'm blank.

I look up at Frank. My beautiful Frank. My only.

“I love you,” I gasp. A tear suddenly escape my seemingly dry eye, and it is quickly joined by others.
“I failed you. I wasn't there. I thought I was, but I wasn't. I love you. I just wanted to help. I couldn't...be...I-” I babble, coming to a stop again. I don't even know what I'm saying, I'm just...saying.
“I got so mad. I got so....worried. I wanted you to be okay.” I stop before I say I again, realizing I have nothing to say. I stay quiet for a few moments, just looking at Frank's blurry face.

I love him so much. Why did I ever pretend I didn't?

“I had to leave. I'm sorry, but I had to.”

“Why?” I quickly ask, uttering the only thought that comes through my mind.
He looks down, then back at me. I keep eye-contact with him.

“I slapped you,” he whispers, unable to hold eye-contact half-way through his sentence. He's barely breathing as he looks around in his lap. He swallows and tries to talk, but he can't.

Without thinking – simply being unable to – I place a hand on his thin, skinny leg. The sheet is still covering his legs, but they're easy to see, even in the dim light.

“I became my mom,” he whispers even lower.

I move forward and wrap my arms around him. I don't care that he tries to pull away and that I'm afraid of breaking his brittle bones by holding onto him; I just hold him.

And quickly, he stops struggling. He melts into my arms and sobs into my chest. He lets me hold him, and I don't let go. I just hold him. I rock him back and forth.

And it all feels a little closer to alright.