Troubles

I shiver with every step I take. It's as if the cold just won't leave me, even for a second. I can't even be numbed by it, 'cause it's not freezing, but it's not on the warm side either. It's the kind of weather where it's too cold to wear just a sweater, but not quite so cold that you need a jacket or a scarf. But perhaps a beanie wouldn't have hurt.

Except I don't own one. I don't even have one at the bus terminal. I still haven't emptied my locker there, which I guess is a good thing now – except that I can't bring myself to go there.
I was hungry this morning and I know I have something edible in that locker, but I can't walk past that alley. Whenever I think about it, my stomach hurts and I shiver.

But then, maybe that's just because I'm still hungry and it's cold as fuck right now.

I try to draw my arms around me tighter, but it doesn't help. I shiver again and it feels as if my bones are about to break. It's as if I'm frozen all the way through and that a bit too much pressure or just a sharp shove is gonna break me into pieces.

I speed up, both to get to school faster but also to get my blood pumping so I might get warmed up a little. I breathe a little faster and am pleased when I see the clouds forming in front of my mouth when I exhale. I keep up my fast pace, until a pain jabs at my lungs.

I hunch over and grab my aching chest. My lung feels like it's gonna explode, or maybe that's just my chest in general. I can't tell. All I can tell is that it hurts.

It's my rib – the broken rib – I just know it. It's drilling into my lung or into a nerve or something because it's still stuck in a screwed up angle. No matter what, it's killing me – maybe even literally.

I whine out loud and try to look around for a place to sit, but the pain jabs again and I look down at the ground. I focus on a rock and try to regulate my breathing. I was fine before I got my pulse up and my breathing faster and heavier, so I just need to bring it down again; just relax; just breathe slowly. In. And out. In. And out.

I cough suddenly.

I crouch down, a hand on the pavement to keep me steady and the other trying not to press too hard against my rib, but still attempting to hold it in place.

Stop it. Just stop hurting. Stop this. All of this. I can't take much more.

I shake my head and look out on the road, watching the cars drive by carelessly. They wouldn't even stop if I was coughing up blood or lying lifeless on the ground. They'd probably just call the police on their cell phone and tell them there's another dead body in Jersey. And then the police would take forever to arrive, because they have to check out fifty other reports of the same sort.

When I finish high school, the first thing I'll do is get the fuck out of this state. I don't care if I'll have to go to Canada, as long as I get away from this place where no one cares. Where I don't even care.

“Frank?” I look up and see Gerard, right in front of me. What? Where did he come from?
“It is you. Are you okay?” He crouches down to my level, looking at me with actual, genuine concern in his eyes. He still cares?

My breathing has gone back to normal. Or, well, it had. Right now, it's going a bit faster again, along with my heart.

I slowly get up and Gerard helps me by grabbing my arm. My rib jabs at my side, but not as bad as before. I stand up straight and take a careful breath and sigh softly. Gerard still looks concerned, keeping a close eye on me with his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

Some truck honks its deep horn as it drives past us, and I notice Gerard's car further up the road parked halfway up on the sidewalk, the other half partly blocking the road.

“What happened to you?” he asks softly, almost whispering. I'm startled when his hand unexpectedly touch me, but I can't help but revel in the feeling of his rough fingers brushing over my cheek. It stings a bit when they touch my wound, but it's okay. I still enjoy it.

“I-”
I'm about to tell him, but something stops me. I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them, to stare at nothing.

If I tell him, he'll feel sorry for me. He'll think I'm pathetic and look at me in that pitying way.
His hand brushes over my skin again, making the tiny hairs on my cheek tickle. They're still soft, nothing but downs, but that just makes it ten times better as Gerard runs his fingers so lightly over my cheek. I feel like laughing and crying and throwing up, but I don't. And that makes me feel like I'm swimming. It makes me feel dizzy.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, not thinking about what to say before I say it. I barely think at all, really.

“What happened to you last night? Why didn't you show up?”

“I was-” Again, something stops me and I open my eyes. I look up at him, and despite the change on his face from worry to fear, he doesn't remove his hand from my cheek.
“I got mugged,” I mumble out, again without much thought. I just feel like telling him. I just want to get it off my chest.

And I truly feel like I do when his face stays the same and doesn't change into one of pity. He sighs heavily and his mouth quivers a bit, as if he's trying to say something but can't.

“I was on my way to the bus to go see Mikey. I was hoping you'd let me talk with you.” I smile lightly, even though there's nothing light about this situation. I got mugged and hurt and Gerard looks like he's about to break down into tears, but still, I feel so light. I might be making myself vulnerable by putting myself out there like this, but telling someone all of this just makes me so relieved. But also, I feel like it's okay to do it. I feel like I can trust Gerard with all of this.

“I like you," I continue, "a lot. And I'm real sorry for all the things I've said and done, but I'd really like to make them up to you. I want to make you-” but then, I stop myself. Telling him that I want him to be mine is too obsessive and silly and vulnerable.
“Happy,” I say instead. It's still the truth, only not the whole truth. The whole truth can come later, when I've made him happy.

He doesn't smile, though. He doesn't look happy or relieved. He still just looks like he's about to break into tears, his eyes glassy and his eyelids vibrating.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbles and slowly wraps his arms around me. It's a light hug and in a way, I'm grateful, because my ribs will stay safe, but on the other hand, I feel hurt.

I finally told him how I feel, and then he won't even hug me sincerely.

He pulls away a little, smiles at me and then lets go of me altogether. And I feel let down. I feel hurt. And I can't explain why.

“Want a ride to school?” he asks awkwardly, his voice rough and crackling a bit. He sounds tired and upset, which I don't understand. Why is he hurt? He's the one who's completely ignoring what I just said, so why should he feel sad?

I nod. If I could, I would walk, but it's too cold and I'm too tired. I'm so tired of everything, really. I just want the pain to stop already. Why can't I just catch a break? Why can't I just be happy for once; just for fucking once?

I walk after him to his car and he gets in quick to avoid getting his car door ripped off by crazy people in their cars. I get in slower. I don't even want to get in, but I ignore the heavy feeling in my gut and slam my ass into the seat. I practically drag my right leg inside before I pull at the door. I'm not even sure if it closes right, because I didn't pull at it that hard.

Gerard turns in his seat towards me, but I look away. I look at the fence next to the sidewalk and see through a crack. I only see a brick wall through it, but it's better than seeing Gerard out of the corner of my eye. Not that it would make me hurt any more than I already am.

I jump a little when I feel his hand on my knee, and I turn my head out of pure reaction. I wanna look away again, but his eyes have caught me, especially because they're so close.

And then, without much thought or effort or even care, the hurt diminishes from me when Gerard's lips catches me as well. I didn't even register the initial touch, because I was still in shock over how close he was, but when I feel his lips move, I realize what's happening: he's kissing me.

I smile against his lips, close my eyes and kiss him back; moving my own lips softly against his, trying to figure out his rhythm. I don't even have to try, though, 'cause it all just feels so simple. It's just a kiss. It's just us. And it's just perfect.

He slowly pulls away, pecking my lips once before he leans back into his seat and smiles lazily at me. I smile back, but I can't help the wondering look I get in my eye. Why did he do that?

“I think we'd get shot if we did that in the middle of the street,” he says, his cheeks turning pink and his smile growing slightly. I smile back, so wide the wound on my cheek stings.

I nod. He's right. It is Jersey, after all. Belleville might not be the worst, but it's still Jersey.

He turns around and turns on the engine. I settle myself back in my seat and wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to keep it from tickling. But I can't stop it.

Gerard quickly pulls into the traffic and speeds up to the pace of the other cars, tugging violently at the gear stick. When the car is moving at a somewhat regular speed, I notice his hand letting go of the gear stick and turning palm up. I can't explain why I just get that hint, but I do. He doesn't even need to move his hand towards me or even take his eyes off of the traffic, before I let go of my stomach and slide my left hand into his right.

I sigh out in relief.

I'm suddenly jolted forward and the car comes to a stop. I look up to see the red light of the car in front of us, before I jump when Gerard honks the horn by pounding his fist against it. I feel even more shocked when he then lets go of my hand and returns to tugging at the gear shift, but I quickly recover.

As he gets the car back to the same speed as before, I slowly reach out my hand, palm up. He seems to look at everything but me, and it even seems like he doesn't even notice my hand. So I gather the guts and swallow down the lump in my throat to speak.

“Will you be mine?” I don't know why I ask him like that, but I immediately regret it. Even though asking him to be my boyfriend sounded a hell of a lot stupider in my head, asking him to be mine just sounded retarded when it came out of my mouth. Maybe it's because I'm so unsure about whether or not that kiss meant what I thought it did or maybe it's because I feel like he's completely ignoring me right now, but I feel so fucking stupid for asking him to be mine. I can't own him.

All of my rushing thoughts come to a sudden halt when I feel his hand grasp mine. I look up at his face to see him smiling. He glances over at me with an indescribable glimmer in his eyes.

“Definitely.”