Spark

I knocked softly on the bathroom door.
 
"Andy?"
 
Silence.
 
"Andy, you in there?"
 
More silence, and then the sound of someone moving around and a muffled whimpering.
 
"I'm coming in, okay?"
 
I twisted the door handle and cautiously pushed the door open.
 
At first, it looked like there was nobody in there. But I knew better, and my gaze landed upon the rake-skinny figure curled in a corner next to the toilet.
 
Andy Biersack. My boyfriend, lover, partner, whatever you wanted to call it, for the last two years. And in those two years, nothing had changed much. I shuddered to think of the state he'd be in if I wasn't there to care for him and look after him after a lifetime of family trauma and abusive relationships.
 
Though I could be doing a far better job of it.
 
Stop beating yourself up over that, I told myself. I was doing the best I could, given the circumstances, and Andy refused to go near anyone that wasn't me. I was the only one he trusted. He was like a child in so many ways - sometimes, I'd look at him and be struck by how fragile and vulnerable he looked. Andy wasn't a weak person - far from it, in fact - but after everything he'd gone through, anyone would be in the state he was, or worse.
 
I kneeled down to his trembling figure, put my arms around him and held him close to my chest. I stroked his hair tenderly and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, and he curled into the warmth of my chest like a newborn child to his mother. Gestures like that, proof of how much trust and loyalty he had in me, when he couldn't even stand being near other people, still made a warm feeling blossom in my chest whenever I witnessed them.
 
I held him close until his shaking had almost disappeared and I sensed he'd calmed down a bit. Then I heard a gurgling sound coming from his stomach. My expression darkened.
 
"Andy, baby, how much have you been eating lately?"
 
"A bit..." he mumbled into my chest.
 
I sighed. "Please, I'm serious. Don't do this to yourself again, love."
 
"But I'm so fat," he whispered dejectedly, and it broke my heart to see him like this.
 
I put my hand gently around his bony wrist. There were a good few inches of space between his skin and the point where my fingers touched.
 
"Andy, you've never been fat."
 
He sighed softly and leaned his head in my chest again. "Don't make me eat, Ben..." he pleaded.
 
“Baby, I’d never make you do anything,” I said as soothingly as I could, “but don’t do this to yourself. Or to me. Please.”
 
He bit his lip and looked down.
 
“Listen, I can make a bath and some food for you, okay?”
 
He raised his eyes to meet mine, and for a second they looked so miserable and heartbroken that I almost caved in. Almost.
 
“Andy, I’m sorry, but… I can’t let you starve yourself like this, understand?” I almost added “I love you too much to see you like this,” but bit my tongue. He probably knew it already, and… and I didn’t want to bring it up. Not now, when I was starting to doubt he had the same feelings for me as I did for him.
 
I remembered how it used to be when we’d first started out together. Andy was much more of a mess back then, that was true, but we still had that spark, that feeling that really made me believe that he loved me back. All those kisses, those touches, those whispered I love yous that used to light up my days… and there was something I used to see in his eyes, too. I could see it when he pulled me closer towards him, gripping me so tightly I thought he was never going to let me go. He’d huddle into me and meet my gaze, and I’d look into his clear, shimmering blue eyes and see the love in them, the adoration, and the knowledge that between us was something real and solid, not just a daydream or an illusion.
 
Everything had changed now, though.
 
I no longer saw it. If it was there, it was now hidden away, and I was left with only doubts and uncertainty. He’d respond to my kisses, yes, but no longer with the passion that he used to. It was truly making me fear that the flame had flickered out, that the only thing that held us together now was the mutual need for one another and the remnants of a broken love.
 
So I just didn’t talk about it. Because I needed him, there was no doubt about that. And he needed me too. Without me, God knew the state he’d be in. He needed someone to love him, to take care of him, to gently coax him out of his shell until he was ready to face the outside world again. And I had to be that someone, no matter what my doubts and fears might be.
 
I wasn’t leaving him. That much was clear to me. Even if he told me he didn’t love me anymore, I was staying with him, simply because he wouldn’t survive without me.
 
Andy leaned his head on my chest again, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving his lips. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Fine, I’ll eat. Just… don’t make it too much, okay?” His gaze was imploring.
 
I pressed my lips to his forehead softly. “Don’t worry,” I whispered into his ear. I noticed the small layer of grime under his fingernails and the way his hair hung, limp and unwashed, so I said, “I’ll fill the bathtub, okay?”
 
He didn’t say anything, only continued to look at me while he played with the hem of my t-shirt. I pressed my lips to his in a brief kiss and gently pulled away from him, leaving him curled up on the floor. I knew from experience that I wouldn’t be able to get him to move, so I turned to the bath and turned the tap on, filling it with hot water. I could tell Andy was watching me and, sure enough, when I turned to face him his eyes were on me, with that look only he could wear. It was slightly fearful, as always, but also registered tenderness and a hint of incredulity, as if he still couldn’t believe someone was doing this for him.
 
I kneeled down next to him, and I could tell he was trembling slightly again.
 
“I’ll be right back, okay?” I said as reassuringly as I could. My lips met his temple and my fingers entwined in his hair for a second before I pulled away. He kept looking at me, a pleading look in his eyes, silently begging me to stay. I forced myself to stand up. “I’ll be right back,” I repeated, and hesitatingly turned away and made my way back to the kitchen, feeling Andy’s eyes on me until I disappeared from view.
 
I forced myself to focus on what I was doing. Food. Right, that was the first thing. I hunted around until I found the bread and popped a slice in the toaster. Then I filled a glass with water and put it down on the kitchen counter, swinging myself up to sit on it too.
 
I stared blankly into space for a while, trying very hard to avoid thinking about me and Andy’s relationship, my doubts and insecurities, and failing miserably.
 
I found myself reminiscing back to the time when I’d met him, back when he was just another patient in the mental hospital where I worked. From the very first time I’d met him, I’d become captivated by Andy’s bright blue eyes. They were undeniably beautiful: clear, sincere and crystalline. I knew many patients in there were completely insane, dangerous even, and that they had no hope of ever regaining their sanity. But when I looked at Andy, the only thing I saw was a very frightened boy in desperate need of love.
 
I’d started growing attached to him from that day on. I ended up making regular visits to his room every day. At first, he wouldn’t talk, but I could see he was slowly growing used to me too. We got closer and closer, and I could see it in his eyes that he trusted me – perhaps more than he’d ever trusted anyone. And that was how, after a year or so, he was released from the hospital and came home with me.
 
I didn’t know much about his past. I knew better than to ask. I’d been told his childhood and family life were more than disturbing, and that he’d been found on the streets a few years back, huddled in some gutter and half-starved. However, I could tell he’d been in at least one abusive relationship. I could still recall that day when he’d dropped a glass and it smashed to the ground, and when I came into the room, he was desperately trying to pick up the pieces and hide them, cutting his fingers and leaving blood all over the floor. And I’ll never forget that look of pure terror that appeared in his eyes when he saw me, like he was truly afraid I’d hurt him. When I kneeled down next to him and attempted to calm him down, he cringed away from me, and it took at least half an hour of my soothing to convince him that it was okay, that I’d never hurt him. And when I finally managed to get him to relax into my embrace, he whispered something that made my heart break.
 
“Eric used to do that all the time. I thought… I thought it was normal to get mad at me and hurt me if I did something wrong…”
 
That was when I realized that if Andy was in this state, it was purely because of the actions of others, who’d hurt him again and again until he’d been scarred for life – both physically and mentally. I realized how special this boy was, how unique, how much he could bring into the world with only a little bit of help. And from that moment, I vowed I’d do anything and everything in my power to help him, take care of him and bring him back to the person he would have been if it weren’t for other people’s actions.
 
The toaster spat out the bread with a loud ping!, startling me and dragging me back into reality. I pushed my light, chestnut-colored hair out of my eyes and hopped down from the counter with a small sigh. I put the toast on a plate, picked up the glass of water and made my way towards the bathroom again.
 
Andy was in the exact same position that I’d left him in, curled up into a corner, arms around his knees, only now he was staring vacantly into space. However, when he saw me, his sky-colored eyes immediately latched on to me again. I dropped to my knees beside him, putting the plate and the glass down, and let his arms wrap tightly around me.
 
“Ben,” he whispered, like I’d been gone for years instead of just a few minutes. My fingers toyed with his hair, stroking and twirling it, and I brought down my lips to rest against his forehead for a few seconds.
 
“You have to eat now. Okay, Andy?” I said softly. I held up the pate and motioned for him to take it. He obeyed and looked at it gingerly, like he was afraid the toast might jump up and bite him. He shot me an imploring glance but, seeing my firm expression, raised the bread to his mouth and took a tiny bite. I watched him chew and swallow, and I knew it was costing him much more of an effort than you'd think at first sight, so I squeezed his hand reassuringly and gave him a small smile. Bite by minimal bite, he ate about half of the toast, with a few sips of water. After that, he just dropped it back on the plate and mumbled, "Please don't make me eat any more..."

After a brief moment of doubt, I gave in. "Don't worry," I said, smiling slightly and pushing his hair back from his forehead tenderly. He looked at me gratefully and then his gaze went to something behind me. "It's going to overflow," he pointed out, with a tiny jerk of his head towards the bath. 

"Oh, crap!" I'd forgotten all about it. I hastily stood up and turned the tap off. Sure enough, a few more minutes and there'd have been water all over the floor. I looked at Andy again and held out a hand, and he took it, pulled himself up and started stripping somewhat shyly. 

I smiled, despite myself, because this was pretty much a routine, yet he was still self-conscious of taking his clothes off in front of me. He's just too cute sometimes.

I knew it wasn't just because of his body itself, though. It was because of the scars. Long, jagged, twisted marks, running sown his arms and torso and disfiguring his otherwise pale and perfect skin. He turned his back to me and clambered into the bath, giving me a full view of a particularly nasty one running down his back. Uneven and grotesque, almost, stretching from the base of his neck to the small of his back, it was a vivid reminder of the physical and mental wounds that had been inflicted on this boy. 

Of course, I knew better than to ask where it had come from. 

I let him lie there for a few minutes, eyes closed, long dark hair floating around him. He looked so peaceful like this. It was almost like he as finally at peace. For a moment, I didn't see a lost, frightened boy, but someone strong, proud, and above all... happy. 

He opened his eyes, startled, when I started rubbing soap all over his slender body, but soon appeared to relax and closed them again. My fingers massaged his pallid skin, tracing over the scars lovingly, from the prominent, lumpy ones on his chest to the white ones on his forearms that were obviously self-inflicted. 

He was scarred and broken, yet he was still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. 

My fingers moved to his hair now, shampooing it gently, making small, circular motions against his skull. I twisted individual strands of black hair delicately around my finger and them unwound them, burying my fingers into his dark mane of hair again, smoothing it out and untangling it. I was so absorbed into what I was doing that I didn't notice the water cooling up, and only came to my senses when it had lost all its heat and Andy was lying in a bathtub full of cold water. 

"Andy?" I said, touching his face gently, and when he showed no signs of having heard me, I realized he'd fallen fast asleep. 

I smiled to myself and took him into my arms, lifting him out of the water, wrapping his body in the softest towel I could find and carrying him over to the bedroom, gently putting him down on our bed. He lay there peacefully, like a sleeping child. I brushed his wet hair back from his face, smiling slightly, and I leaned down and brushed my lips against his. 

I looked at him for one long moment before whispering, "Good night, Andy," and turning away from him, towards the door. 

But before I could get there, I heard Andy's voice saying faintly, "Ben."

I spun round, and he wa still lying down, but his blue eyes were open and fixed on me. I walked back to him and sat down on the bed, taking his pale, scarred hand inside mine. 

"Stay with me?"

"Of course," I mouthed, lying down beside him and letting him rest his head against my shoulder. I felt his body relax into my arms and a faint sigh escape his lips as my skin brushed against his. 

His face turned towards me, and I was met with the innocent, yet penetrating gaze of his crystalline eyes. I had the feeling there was something important he wanted to tell me, and sure enough, after a moment's hesitation, I heard my name slip through his lips again. 

"Ben..." I wasn't sure if the slight quiver in his voice was real or if I was just imagining it. He seemed to teeter on the egde of speech again, then go back, and then, finally, whisper, "Do you love me?"

My mouth popped open. Was it even possible that he doubted it, after everything we'd been through?

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be here, don't you think?" I said softly. He didn't answer me, but looked away instead. 

"Andy."

He looked up at me again, and his eyes were filled with uncertainty...

...And I recognized that uncertainty as the same one that had been plaguing me so often lately. 

Did he have the same doubts as me? Did I think I didn't love him? How was that possible?

"Andy," I repeated, "I love you. I love you more than anything else in the world, okay? Don't ever doubt that."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

"Absolutely," I nodded. 

He looked speechless for a second, and I saw a faint glimmer of joy in his eyes. Without saying anything else, he started threading his fingers into my hair, pulling me closer towards him, and his lips met mine in a tender kiss. 

It had been weeks since he'd kissed me like this. Hell, it had been weeks since he'd kissed me at all. But now, I finally understood why. It wasn't because he didn't have feelings for me anymore. It was because he was doubting my own feelings for him. That was when I realized that when you love someone, you have to show it. You have to remind them, make them realize you're still there for them, and always will be. 

So I drank from the kiss with a longing I hadn't shown in a long time. I tried to be gentle with him like I always was, but it was difficult, especially considering he was losing himself in me with even more passion than I was. My fingers trailed over his skin in an almost frenzied way, and he seemed to be experiencing the same sensations, because he'd soon rolled over on top of me. 

When we broke apart, we were both panting and gasping for air. However, my lips flew down to his almost immediately, and he responded to my kiss with an ardor I very rarely saw in him. My eyes widened, though, when his fingers hesitatingly found the edge of my pants and started inching them down. 

As much as it went against my will, I pulled back with difficulty. 

"Andy," I panted, "are you sure you want to do this? I mean-"

He silenced me with another kiss, and I couldn't help but give in to it and let myself be carried away. He took my face in his hands and nodded. 

"I want to," he whispered. 

I saw only true sincerity in his eyes, so I smiled slightly and locked our mouths together again, feeling my self-control slip away and wanting nothing more than to get lost in him. I wanted to disappear completely into him, let him take over my essence... nothing else mattered, it was just him and me together, and there was nothing else in the world to bother us. 

And we made love for the first time in months. 

Our naked, sweat-drenched bodies moved in sync, rising and falling and connecting into one another. His hands were like fire on my flesh, and I returned the gesture, my hands roaming over the whole of his beautiful body. We climaxed at almost the same time, my vision flooding with white in an instant of pure euphoria, and then we collapsed on the bed together, panting and exhausted. 

He sought refuge in my arms, and I granted it more that willingly. He nuzzled his head into my chest, and I caressed it tenderly. I looked at him again, and his eyes met mine... and I saw it. The spark, that something that told me he still loved me, he still needed me with him. Those were the eyes of the boy I'd fallen in love with all those years ago, the boy who loved me back. He was still here. He hadn't left... and there as something in his look that told me he never would. 

And slowly, peacefully, we fell asleep in each other's arms, with only the moon watching over us.