Sunflowers and Tulips

Braedon's POV

We’ve been in the hospital a couple more weeks for the doctors to monitor me. Everything has been going smoothly. In fact, things have been improving so much that Dr.WhatsHisFace (I still forget his name) said we could go home within the week if we took extra precaution. James got so excited, he almost pissed himself and I nearly laughed out loud at his expression. He looked like a little gay boy who saw his first dick. It was precious.

The only thing that concerned me, though, was James’ family. They weren’t the happiest bunch of people and he was worried because he left without warning. Naturally, he would go back some days when his leg wasn’t hurting too much, but that only led to his grandmother screaming a stream of curse words at him and his grandfather nearly beating him with a golf club. Like I said: they weren’t the happiest bunch. He’s been miserable staying at the hospital, and it’s practically my fault, which makes me miserable too.

The urge to cut has grown to an almost uncontrollable monster, but I push it down with just one look at James. He shouldn’t have the burden of knowing my one and only secret; he already has enough on his plate without me fucking it up.

My fingers absent-mindedly trace my stomach, feeling the small bumps from healed cuts through my clothes. It’s strangely comforting, knowing that they are there. To me, it’s the only thing that reassures me that this isn’t all just a horrible dream. During the first week or so, I had to keep clinging onto James to make sure that we were actually together and I wasn’t completely dreaming. I was actually happy for the first time in a while—being with James had completely lifted that constant self-doubt and depression I have had ever since I was five. Yes, five. Which was the age that my mother left us. I thought it was my entire fault, that I wasn't a good enough son for her and that she was going to go find a new son and daddy.

“Babe?” James said hesitantly, touching my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

I turned towards him and replied, “Of course, baby. I’m just thinking.” I gave him my award-winning smile to reassure him, but I knew he wasn’t convinced.

Instead of the pressure of questions I was expecting, he just sighed. “Alright. But please just remember I’m here for you, okay? I love you too much.” He brushed his lips against my cheek in reassurance. I instantly felt warmer at his touch and this time smiled for real, silently telling him that I would tell him when I was ready.

He, then, got up and walked around to the other side of the bed, the side with the window that is right by a tree. So basically I just stare at the tree leaves unless James is there to distract me from the eternal boredom I face. Thank god I have him or else I would probably go insane from the stupid hospital. My fingers went to my stomach and started rubbing it again, but this time James noticed my habit.

“Why do you keep doing that?” he asked.

“Doing what?”

He pointed to my stomach. “That. You keep rubbing your stomach, but when I try to rub it myself you flinch and shy away. Why?” His voice held true concern, and I think he knew why I did that, but he just didn’t want to admit it.

I had two choices: either I lie to his face and say that it’s nothing or I tell him the truth. Either
way it would turn out bad and I hurt him enough, so I decided to just tell him straight out.

“James…I cut.”