Blood

I lay on my back, with a body pressed to mine. Their left arm is bent so they can grab a handful of my t-shirt.
I used to adore this position, and how they wanted nothing more than to touch me, even when sleeping. The way their fingers subconsciously reached for mine in the middle of the night used to create a small home for butterflies in the bottom of my stomach.
Now my hand rips away from there’s as if I’d touched fire. I used to be so in love and I want nothing more than to feel that again; if not for me, then for them.
I grab their hand and pry it from my shirt. The fingers curl in on themselves and their owner’s nose scrunches, uncomfortable without some part of me to latch onto.
I know in a few minutes they’ll wake up, lost and confused in the midst of night. I know I’ll have to grab a hold of their hand before they come to their senses completely. I’ll have to hold it like I don’t know what disturbed them; like I still love them.
I’ll have to whisper reassuring words of false love and pretend I wouldn’t run at the first sign of them moving on from me. I’ve tried leaving because this isn’t fair to them and it’s not fair to me, but they won’t let go.

I sit across from him as we eat dinner. He takes small, barely noticeable bites like he always does. The bites used to send worry coursing through my veins but now, they do nothing for me.
“Jack,” I say softly.
Jack sets his fork down, one measly piece of macaroni salad still stuck on the end. He stares at me with wide eyes filled to the brim with love that I wish I could return.
I’m not sure when it happened. Nothing changed, not me, not him, not our relationship. Just my feelings.
It seemed to have happened all at once. We’d been cuddling on the couch, watching spongebob of all things, when he’d turned his head and whispered ‘I love you.’ I’d returned the gesture with a kiss on his forehead like I always had. This time, though, something felt wrong.
I’d gotten the sinking feeling in my gut that I’ve always gotten when I’d lied. It was then I realized that I no longer loved him, and sat for hours in shock.
I reach across the table and grasp his hand in mine.
“Jack,” I say again, “I don’t think this is working out. I think we should… break up.”
Jack’s eyes stay wide and he yanks his hand from my grip. His shoulders hunch and shake the way they do when he’s trying not to cry and I want nothing more to grab him and reassure him that everything will be fine but he beats me to it.
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” he whimpers, crying now. “It’s because of my abandonment issues, isn’t it? I got too clingy for you, didn’t I? I knew I was going to, I knew you were too good for me!”
I watch in horror as he clutches the knife he was using to cut his steak.
“Jack, what the fuck!” I yell, jumping up from my seat.
He looks at me with seemingly innocent eyes.
“You don’t think I’m going to hurt you, do you Alex?” he asks quietly. “I’d never hurt you.”
My heart jumps around crazily in my chest as he brings the knife to his own wrist.
“W..What are you doing?”
He looks up at me with tear stained cheeks.
“If I can’t have you, what’s the point in living?”
“You won’t do it,” I accuse, more for myself than for him.
There’s no way he’ll actually go through with it, I think to myself, you’re not worth it.
He rubs the knife back and forth against his skin, creating a shallow cut above the most visible set of veins.
“Shit, Jack, stop,” I demand, dropping to my knees in front of him and taking his face in my hands, “I’m not going anywhere, baby, okay? Come here.”
Jack drops the knife next to me on the floor and flings himself at me. I gently cradle his shaking form and kiss the side of his head.
“You’re okay, I’m okay, we’re okay,” I whisper to him.

I’m pulled out my memories by a shift in the body pressed to mine. I carefully tangle my fingers with his and switch on the light.
He blinks against the dull glow before pushing his face into my neck.
“What time is it?” he whispers.
I glance at the alarm clock on the end table.
“Two fifty-six. Go back to bed, baby,” I murmur.
Jack nods and tangles his legs with mine before letting out a content sigh as I snap out the light. It’s not long before his breathing is evened out again.
He wasn’t really awake anyways.

I stare at the ceiling and ignore my phone as it buzzes for the millionth time. I almost feel bad for not answering; it’s not every day that Zack, Rian and Matt are in town on the same day.
They all grew up and left, following dreams that no one thought to be realistic, while I’d stayed behind to stay with Jack. I never thought I’d regret that decision.
I wonder what he would’ve done had I left that day. In the back of my mind, I know exactly what he would’ve done, but I don’t like to think about it.
The front door slams shut and I frown. I can’t remember the last time that door was slammed. It’s normally only shut with such force when Jack’s upset. Jack hasn’t been upset enough to do that since we got together.
I sit up on the bed before pushing myself off of it. I silently walk down a few of the steps and crouch down where I can see but keep my body hidden.
The railing is white and has a gap of about three inches in between each rod. I look through that to see the living room.
Two figures, one lanky and recognizable, walk backwards into the room, joined at the lips. A small girly giggle sounds throughout the room and Jack shushes her with a small chuckle.
“I thought you said your boyfriend was out?” she whispers.
I’d never understood the term ‘blood boiling with anger’ as much as I do now.
She knows about me, but is still going through with it?
“He is, but the walls are thin,” Jack whispers back, “I don’t want the neighbors to say anything to him.”
“They don’t have to,” I say.
Though my voice is soft, it’s loud in the otherwise silent room. I can tell that they’d heard me, by the way they separate.
“Alex, I can explain-“ Jack starts.
I scoff and walk down the steps.
“I don’t think there’s anything to explain.”
I walk to the front door and Jack clutches onto my wrist.
“Alex, where are you going?” he whimpers.
“Leaving,” I mutter.
“To where? You don’t have anywhere else to go!”
“I’ll go the motel down the street,” I say simply.
“Alex, don’t go! I… I’ll… I’ll kill myself if you go! I’ll do it!”
I scoff again and open the door.
“Fine, see if I care,” I say, walking outside.
“I’ll do it, Alex! I’ll do it if you don’t come back! Please, I need you!”
Jack’s cries follow me down the street but I force myself to keep going. I force myself to keep going when the words turn to pitiful wails. I force myself to keep going when there’s enough distance for me to not hear him at all. I force myself to keep going when I pay for a room.
I force myself to keep going until my heavy body is resting on a foreign bed. I stare at the unfamiliar ceiling and wonder what the hell just happened.
It seems like when events like this happen it takes a while for it to register. I may not have loved him anymore, but I know I can’t stay numb for long.
I sigh and turn onto my side. I reach over the end-table and switch the light off before curling up on the unfamiliar bed and willing myself to sleep.

---
I dreamt that I was falling, only to actually fall out of bed, sleep startled by a random noise. I reach my hand up and grab my phone off of the bed. I’d made a habit out of sleeping next to it because then I could grab it without any problem and waste twenty or so minutes before actually getting up.
I switch it back and forth between my hands, all the while it’s ringing. I know that it’s going to be Jack, and I know I shouldn’t answer, but I do.
“Hello?” I sigh out.
“Are you Alex Gaskarth?”
I hesitate before answering; that isn’t a voice I know.
“Yes?” I say slowly.
“We’re sorry to bother at such an early time, but you’re listed as Jack Barakat’s emergency contact.”
“Alex, don’t go! I… I’ll… I’ll kill myself if you go! I’ll do it!”
“Fuck,” I breathe, “I’ll be there soon.”

----
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to lose someone at a young age, but I never thought I’d actually see it happen. Though the beeps of a weak heartbeat fill the room, I’d have to be blind or naïve to think Jack would make it through this.
They made the bleeding stop but they couldn’t replace the blood he’d already lost. While I didn’t see it firsthand, it’s not hard to tell that he’d lost a lot of it.
From the looks of his bandage, he still is. Though, that may have been my doing; the first thing I’d done when I sat down was grab his hand and stroke his wrist, simply because he loved it when I would do that. Maybe that’s why he’d cut there.
I shake my head and lay it into my hands, groaning.
Jesus Christ, the guy’s sitting on his deathbed and you’re looking for symbolism in it?
I take a deep breath in and look up at him again. I watch his chest rise and fall, but he is nowhere near alive. I’ve seen him live, and this isn’t it.
The numbing feeling from earlier has returned. It started in my toes and spread to every organ and limb.
We’re taught how to handle death, but what happens when it’s premature? Is there even a proper way to handle it, or is it only then that we’re allowed to fall apart?
I sigh and stroke the gauze wrapped around Jack’s fragile wrist. Some of the blood has seeped through, and I try my hardest to pretend that my thumb doesn’t come off wet.
“Hey, sweetie,” An elderly nurse with a soft voice and a friendly face says, “visiting hours are over. Head on home now, we’ll contact you if anything changes.”
I stare at Jack for a moment longer, and she doesn’t rush me; she only gives my arm a soft, sympathetic squeeze as I make my way past her.

----
I sit on the floor in the small apartment that Jack and I have shared for the past six years. Each wall in the building has many stories to tell but ours hold secrets of abuse and lost love.
They’ve watched best friends become lovers. They’ve watched the best love story ever told unfold within their plaster. They watched a boy fall out of love and fake it for the sake of another. They’ve watched a boy cheat on his lover because deep down he knew the love was a lost cause. They’ve watched a beautiful boy attempt at taking his own life over another who is so undeserving.
And now they’re watching the remaining boy shift through a box of memories like that could make everything okay.
Inside the box is a bunch of pictures taken in a hospital. The scenery changes from room to room, but it’s always Jack on the hospital bed, covered head to toe in his own blood and the blood of others while I sat and felt guilty; if I had been able to speak for myself, Jack wouldn’t’ve been bloody in the first place.
I smile sadly when I come across a picture that tells the tale of a first kiss. I had been spilling words like a faucet that was stuck on full blast and he’d shushed my waters of apology with loving lips that would happily become swollen again if someone else dared to mess with me.
“I always did hate it when you’d bleed for me,” I whisper to no one.