Hate Is A Strong Word

*Jaimie's POV*

I can't deny that I've spent all day worrying about Deryk. He wasn't at school, he wasn't answering his text messages; something about him always makes me a little unnerved and makes me wonder if he's ok. When the bell rang to finally leave school, I was never more relieved in my life.

I walked the fairly familiar route to Mr. B's house. "Hey, Mr. B, where you going?" I asked as I saw him in the drive-way.

"I have to go get some ink and paper for my printer. First I needed to fill out paper work, now I need to make copies. I swear, they are making life so complicated these days." he replied.

"Where's Deryk at?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

"Oh. Uh, he got in the shower, like, fifteen minutes ago. He should be out pretty soon, though. You can go wait for him in the living room. I trust you kids."

"Whoa, wait. You actually trust Deryk?" I laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm. You have a good point. Eh, I trust you. Later." He said, getting into the front seat and starting the car. I walked up to the front door and stepped into the living room. Sure enough, the water was running upstairs. I hoped he wouldn't take long. Nothing's more awkward than waiting for the guy you've been stressing out about without a television to distract you. While I searched for the remote, I heard the water turn off.

The lyrics to the song "The Middle" were being yelled upstairs. Yup, that's Deryk. I was too proud of my success in finally finding the remote to yell up and announce my presence. Suddenly the singing came closer. "You're in the middle of the r-AHHHHHH!!!" Deryk stood before my, stumbling to cross his legs and shield his bare chest with his arms while he screamed like a little girl.

"Don't you knock?!" he asked in an absurd British accent.

"Mr. B let me in." I smiled. Leave it to my stupid boyfriend to be walking around the house in only a pair of shorts in mid-November.

"Gosh, the rudeness of people these days." he said, keeping up the accent and shaking his head. He looked around the floor helplessly. "Can you go get one of my shirts for me?" He asked, putting his arms down. I looked at him. He seemed so much thinner these days. It was almost frightening, actually. Maybe he wasn't eating right.

"You're already at the bottom of the stairs! Just walk up." I laughed.

"But... but... I don't wanna." he said, whining like a six-year-old.

"Haha, neither do I!" I said. He stomped away from the stairs jokingly and grabbed a blanket on the back of a chair.

"Fine. I don't need you." He said and wrapped himself like a little burrito. He hopped over to the couch I was sitting on and flopped onto it, lying down behind me. Mr. B had the biggest couch I'd ever seen, almost as wide as my bed. I lied down next to Deryk.

"So did I miss anything relevent in school today? Or just Ms. McBitchface talking all period?" He asked.

"Actually, we spent a lot of class time writing an essay due on Friday. I can give you the prompt when I feel like getting up." I explained.

"HA! My laziness is rubbing off on you!" he declared.

"Ah, whatever. So what did I miss in the amazing life of Deryk, today?"

Suddenly he got serious. He wasn't bouncy and hyper like he has been earlier. He just sort of sat there behind me. "Nothing."

"Oh come on. You expect me to believe you just sat around all day?"

"Well, nothing important, I mean." he said. Somehow, I couldn't make myself believe him.

"Well, I'm just curious. It's not like my day was full of excitement."

"Yeah, but I'm always interested in what you have to say, no matter how exciting you think it is. I can assure you, though. It wasn't important." he seemed so adament about not telling me. That's exactly what the problem was, though.

I sat up and turned around. "Deryk, what happened? Why is it that now, every time I ask you what's wrong, or what's going on in your head, and now even what you did today, you tell me nothing? You were so open with me just, like, a couple weeks ago! Why are you suddenly so closed-up again?"

His eyes darted in every direction but mine. He sat up, still snuggled in his blanket. "Jaimie..." he looked up, but was definately struggling to continue facing me, much less speaking. "I... Sometimes it's easier to deal with things when you don't think about them. Talking about it makes me think about it, and I just wanna focus on getting all these thoughts in the back of my mind, or maybe out of my head forever." he finished, then immediatly dropped his gaze back to the floor.

I cupped his face in my hands--something he had done to me a time or two--and asked him, "Do you regret telling me what your dad did to you?"

He tried to look away, but he couldn't. "No." he said, defeated.

"So then how come after telling me about that, you feel better, yet after telling me about this, you'll feel worse?" I asked. His eyes looked ready to spill over. I dropped my hands to his shoulders as he heaved them, but he refused to cry right now.

"I just don't wanna worry you. Mr. B is stressed, Lord knows I've stressed you out a lot. I just wanted to try to deal with something by myself, like i used to, and save you guys the hassle of dealing with my issues." He choked out. His hand grabbed mine from his shoulder and held it on his knee. He rubbed it as he tried to contain his sadness.

I moved my hands back to his face and made him look up to me. "Listen, baby." I said, "Don't ever think that you are a hassle. I love you. Do you know what that means?"

He nodded, but looked away. "I don't know if you do. Listen, Deryk. When I tell you that I love you, that means that I am always there for you. If you feel like shit, I'm there. If you feel happy and like laughing, I'm there. If you feel like you are a problem in my life, I'm there to tell you that you're wrong, ok? I love you, Deryk. Now what's wrong?"