Status: In progress, loves.

Don't Waste Your Time on Me.

When our hearts are heavy burdens, we shouldn't have to bear alone.


If you were looking for a word to describe my appearance, pale would be the first word to pop into your mind. Instantly followed by sick, and maybe if you were looking close enough dead. But mostly pale and sick. I felt like a dead rose, once oh so beautiful and colorful until one day the soft, silky petals turned from a gorgeous red to withered dust with a dull, ugly brownish color. The disease was eating at me, you could see it as clear as daylight now and it was scaring me. It was scaring me so much that I picked up the habit of avoiding mirrors, because honestly: I looked hideous. It was scaring me so much that some nights I lay awake in bed with Jack soundly sleeping next to me, oblivious to the thoughts that were torturing my mind. And not only did it scare me, but it made me also feel incredibly guilty. Guilty for putting Jack through the stress of taking care of me when I didn't feel good, guilty for letting Jack get too attached to me and most importantly: it made me feel guilty for leaving Jack to deal alone with his broken heart. Most of the time I tried to ignore the fact that I was getting weaker every day, I tried to drown out the voice in the back of my head that told me that I wouldn't make it much longer. But the one thing I tried to blind out the hardest were the looks of pity and sadness that Jack would throw me every once in a while. It pained me physically and emotionally to see my raven haired beau in so much distress and emotional pain and while I knew that I was the source of this inevitable pain, I was selfish enough to wish that Jack wouldn't let me go, at least not yet. Hence I hated myself even more and I often found myself thinking about the possible existence of heaven and hell. Would being selfish and basically putting my wants in front of Jack's happiness be enough to earn me an assigned spot in hell or would they let me into heaven with a cancer bonus? I was fully aware of my ridiculous thoughts, but believe me, once you are able to count the amount of months you have left to live on one hand, you're starting to get nervous.

My caramel-colored eyes were staring back at me, looking dull and tired. My skin was gradually becoming paler and honestly, I looked like the walking death. It wasn't that I was losing a shitload of weight or that my hair was slowly falling out, because I didn't get treatment which was a plus on one hand because it meant that I wouldn't get any more unattractive than this illness had already made me, but also a negative on the other hand because it meant that I was too sick to get any form of treatment which was basically a, well a death sentence. Three more months, Alex. I reminded myself, Three more months and you're leaving everything you love behind. I sighed at my only-boxer-briefs-wearing reflection in the mirror before slipping on some skinnies and a shirt, not bothering with my wavy hair since nobody was there to see it anyway. Jack had left three hours prior for work which left me in his (our) apartment with nothing to do but clean the house which I did quite nicely, mind you. After taking a quick shower and you know, standing in front of the full length mirror in the master bedroom for about ten minutes, I remembered that we were low on Cookie Crisp. Not wanting Jack to give me one of his "you can't start a day without them" talks, I decided that a trip to the store wouldn't hurt me seeing as I hadn't anything to do anyway.

Grabbing a beanie from the shelf I walked downstairs to put on my shoes and grab my keys before locking the door behind me and slipping into my black Volkswagen after unlocking the door. Starting the engine, I daintily pulled out of the driveway (I found myself to be an awesome driver whereas Jack always called me a safety hazard) and drove the thirty minutes to the store to get Jack his cereal and some other essentials.

I arrived at Walmart roughly thirty minutes later, cutting off the engine and locking the car after getting out. The store was fairly empty for it being almost noon which I was glad for, because that meant I would be able to get the hell out of here quicker than I thought. After I had slipped Jack's Cookie Crisp, some vegetables, soda and toilet paper into the basket I got at the entrance, I was aimlessly walking through the aisles, looking for nothing in particular when I bumped into a middle-aged woman who was - like me - not paying attention to where she was going. "I'm so-" the caramel-haired woman tried to apologize before she was cut off by my baffled expression. I could tell that she wasn't sure what to do and she settled for staring back at me with wide eyes.

"Mom?" I questioned, trying to ignore the flash of pain in her eyes and the pang of guilt in my chest. She was the one abandoning you, Alex. I tried to reassure myself although it wasn't really working.

She only nodded, obviously not being prepared for this or any conversation with me for that matter. Looking up at me she hesitantly began to speak "Uh-um.. Alex." she stammered, looking everywhere but my face, making me want to cry. "I- err look, Alex. I know that I told you that I just needed a few days to think about it and I really tried to come to terms with you being-" she squeezed her eyes shut, gulping "being gay, but I can't, okay? It's not working. I didn't raise my son to be a faggot and I'm not willing to accept that all my efforts to raise you to be a charismatic and lovely guy were useless." my mother snapped, folding her arms over her chest and looking at me expectantly.

And well, that's when I felt the air getting kicked out of me. That's when I felt my heart fall down onto the floor, shattering into tiny little pieces. "Mom," I whispered, blinking away the tears that were threatening to spill. I wouldn't let myself cry in the middle of the store "I'm your son. I'm your own flesh and blood. Mom, I'm dying from cancer and I need you to be there for me instead of abandoning me when I need you the most. How could you do that to me? Don't you love me anymore?"

"How can I, Alex?" she asked, her voice cold and distant "How can I still love you? Don't you see what you put me through?"

Shaking my head, I went "B-but, mom.." only to be interrupted by my mother speaking before I even knew what I wanted to say.

"No, Alex. I'm not your mother anymore. I stopped being your mother the moment your father died. Your father died, because he went to the pet store. Went to the pet store for you. Your father died because of you, Alex. The one person I loved the most, gone. Gone because of you. After taking away from me the one thing I loved, yeah? After that you started digging your claws in what was left, my money. Because of your cancer, Alexander, I spent loads of money on tests and pills and all this other stuff you never needed anyway, because look at you: you're dying. And now, after you proved what a disgrace to human kind you actually are by not only being gay but also fucking your carer who, not to mention, is four years older than you, you seriously still have the nerve to come up to me and reproach me for not loving you?" she spat, shaking her head in disgust and pointing an accusing finger at me "You are the reason my life is a mess, Alexander." and with that the woman I once claimed to be my mother, the woman who would kiss my scraped knees and cut fingers, the woman who used to sit beside my bed every night when I couldn't fall asleep, left. She left without looking back. She left with her head held high, like finally, after all those years, a burden had fallen off her shoulders. A burden that she had called her son. A burden that was me.

I don't know for how long I stood there, staring into space as I fought to keep the tears at bay. All I know is that at some point the events that had taken place at the exact same spot I was still standing at began to slowly sink in. I felt like I was being stabbed in the chest over and over again. As if somebody was brutally ripping out my heart, twisting and squishing it, tossing and kicking it before putting it back in the wrong way round, leaving it there with a huge gaping hole. Tears that I couldn't care less about anymore were running down my cheeks and I couldn't help but think that lately I've been crying way too much, not that it changed anything about the condition I was in. The aisle was silent apart from the sobs I was desperately trying - and failing - to hold back, wiping at my cheeks every now and again. My mother had officially turned her back on me. The woman who gave birth to me, who raised me refused to call me her son. My mother had blamed me for my father's death. She blamed me for the death of my hero, of my best fucking friend. She blamed me for the death of the one person that meant the most to not only her, but me as well. She wasn't the only one still hurting. The difference though, was that never had I blamed her for my father's demise, that I hadn't blamed myself for it. Until then, that is. It was an accident, an accident no one could be held responsible for, no one except for the one driving the other car. It was an accident I thought I'd never be blamed for.

I pulled out my phone, my vision blurry from all the tears, and called Jack, but of course he was still at work which was the reason for his phone being switched off.

"Fuck." I said to no one in particular, not knowing whether to be mad at Jack for not being available or to hate my mom for causing me to break down in the middle of a fucking Walmart. "Fuck!" I exclaimed louder this time, kicking the basket I had put down before my mother, before Isobel, vented her spleen, drawing the attention of a bypassing customer to me.

The tiny dark-haired girl walked up to me, shy smile on her face before she asked in a caring but timid tone "Um.. excuse me if I'm coming off as slightly creepy, but do you want to talk about it? I'm Jenna by the way."

I gave myself a moment to take in the girl standing in front of me what with her tiny frame and warm smile and all, not to mention she had pretty fucking white teeth and huge brown eyes that resembled Jack's a lot, automatically making her more appealing. "Hey, Jenna." I greeted, shaking her nicely manicured hand "I'm Alex. And uh.. as much as I appreciate your concern and all, I really don't wanna talk about it."

"Oh, come on, Alex." she pressed gently "I'm not gonna kidnap you or anything. We're just gonna have some coffee and you'll tell me what's wrong, okay?"

I pondered for a moment before thinking 'why not?' and agreeing which made her grin widely, linking arms with me and walking to the cash register to check our things out.
♠ ♠ ♠
Mama-drama and Alex meeting Dan's girlfriend, bad-um.