Christofer's P.O.V.

I was so mad, so mad. I was angry when i said those things to Andy. I didn't mean half of it, but I regret saying all of it. It's been a rough time since then because Taylor has been in and out of surgery. When Andy left, I couldn't sleep, so I stayed up all night just thinking. Thinking about him and me, and Tay. Maybe thinking wasn't the best idea. I was sorry, and I still am. Now I'm not just sorry, I'm nervous too because I think he'll be disappointed. I hurt myself, but I hurt him too. I wanted to believe everything he said, but I can't. He can't feel all of that about someone as messed up as me; I did him a favor by sending him away. The fresh sting where my hips meet my jeans reminds me of that favor, and Andy, and Tay, and the mess of my life. It has been almost two weeks since I've spoken to Andy. It has been almost two weeks since I've been happy. It has been almost two weeks since I've felt wrapped in love. Andy kept me in a bubble, and I ripped out of it when I kicked him out of my life.

I have wanted to be alone for two weeks, but it's really not possible. The first Monday after my meltdown, Andy didn't say anything to me when he saw me in the morning, and I was glad because as much as I need him, I don''t want him to have to be with me. He pulled me into a hug and then kissed my forehead before he walked away, and he has done that every morning since then. He drags me outside for lunch with my friends or his, and I am kind of grateful for that, but that's all. For two weeks, he has been all deep stares and firm touches, but no talking. The only thing he has said to me was "you dropped your pencil" while I was a t my locker once. It's like he's with me, but at the same time, he's not. I don't particularly care. Every time he touches me, I make sure to pull away from him. I don't look at him. If I pretend like he doesn't exist, maybe he'll do the same for me.

This whole time has been weird for ,e, but I have a special feeling that today will be a different kind of unpleasant. I've been careful to show no skin by wearing baggy sweaters, but the temperature is heating up again, and it's getting harder to hide. I wish Tay would just wake up already, she could tell me what to do with my life right now.

Today has been the same as every day, and I've taken it exactly like every other day. I'm standing in front of my locker, emptying my book bag for the last time today, completely lost in my thoughts, and paying no attention to my environment. My lack of focus is the exact reason why when I reach to put my backpack on, my sweater gets caught against my locker and rucks up, exposing my stomach, all the way down to where my underwear hangs low on my hips. Andy is standing right next to me, and I'm sure he saw me because he is standing stock still in front of me when I turn around.

"We need to talk." He doesn't look angry, and he doesn't sound it either. He looks slightly annoyed, and though that isn't exactly the emotion I want from hm, it's the first real thing I've heard from him in a while. He turns on his heel and heads down several halls until he is walking through the front doors, and I follow him the entire way. The car ride is completely quiet and I can feel the electricity charging in the air the whole time. When we pull up in front of his house, he opens my door for me and walks, but not to the front door. He unlatches a gate at the side oh his house and ushers me through before locking it behind me. In all of the times I've been to his house, I have never set foot back here, and I'm not sure if I'm glad to be here now.

We stand in his back yard for minutes, the time stretching on while the distance between us doesn't get any shorter. Even in the open air, I can feel the tension reaching out to grab me and wrap me in it's filthy tendrils. My whole body is betraying me little by little, starting with my hands that are beginning to shake at my sides.

"Hi." My attempt at breaking the tension maybe wasn't the best. It definitely didn't work. The look in his eyes says things I don't want to know.

"How much?" Umm, that isn't even a full question

"How much what?" I know exactly what he is talking about, but I can't really be blamed for hoping I can get out of talking about this.

"How much have you been cutting?" His demeanor has completely shifted from sadness to exacerbation, and I did that. I know I must be causing him incredible stress, but I can't help it at the moment. I can't make eye contact with him either. My body is betraying me, and making me feel things I've ignored for weeks. I was mad, but I'm not anymore. I was ignoring him, but I'm not anymore. I an feel it peeling, peeling off of me like cheap paint. Layers and layers of barriers I've been stacking high are coming off so easily, so simply, and entirely without my consent. It's him. He's doing this, just his voice is enough to make me want to crawl into a hole because all of my ugly problems are surrounding me, crowding me in. This is the last thing I want to talk about.

"A few times a day." I know he tried to contain his reaction, but the flinch he lets go of is very visible. He walks up to me and slowly pushes up my shirt, revealing all of the skin I have tried so hard to keep hidden from myself and him. I don't have to look down to see the mess he is looking at. The image is burned into my mind, and it sits in the back of my eyes when I'm awake, and on the rare occasions when I'm actually asleep. They are all recent enough that half of them are scabbed over, and one is even an angry red line, freshly clotted by blood from this afternoon. I don't need to see it because it is just a physical reminder of all of the things that are constantly on my mind.

"Why?" I can feel his stare tearing through me, and I am almost able to stop myself from looking up.

"I-I don't know." I know why; of course I do. That's the reason I keep my eyes locked on the grass.

"Christofer, please stop feigning ignorance. We both know this is about Tay. Everything has been about Tay; the scars, the shit you said to me a few weeks ago." His voice has dropped so low that I can feel it in my chest, the way he is willing me to listen to him. When I don't say anything, he closes his eyes, taking every one of his emotions and sealing them behind his eyelids.

"These cuts need to be wrapped." He severs all contact and walks back into the house. Before I turn to follow, he is already coming back out with medical supplies like last time. He simply points to the ground and I know he wants me to sit, so I do. He plops down in front of me with his legs bent and crossed so our knees are touching, and there is hardly and space between us.

"Off." He nods in the direction of my chest, choosing not to say anything else. I remove my shirt and toss it on the ground next to me. He disinfects all of the visible cuts, but I know he is going to need to go lower.

"Up." He gestures for me to stand up again, not saying more, so I do what he says. My breath stops completely when I feel his hands go to my waistband and slowly tug, exposing more of my skin and the scars that litter it. He rubs healing cream on my skin, and I am hyper aware of everywhere our skin meets because he is sitting up straight, and I'm slouching, my eyes roaming off into the distance, anywhere but to where he is positioned in front of me. He wraps me up quickly, like he's done this a dozen times before. When he gets to lock the fabric around my body, he leans his forehead on my stomach, and I can almost feel the thoughts spinning through his head. He stays like that for so long that I start to feel an ache where he is pressing. He pulls back to place a kiss right in the center of the bandage. When he breathes, his face hovering in front of my crotch. Despite the gravity of the situation, I can feel everything all the way to the end of the hairs on my skin, and I'm stirring in the little part of my pants that covers me.

"You left, and you came back, and now you're not talking. You always talk, and now you stop." I do the best I an to put my thoughts into words. His hands are still resting on my hips, which I'd forgotten about until he tightens his grip, and I really feel it.

"I don't know what to say." That is the last thing I expected him to say, and now he really has my attention.

"I have so much to say to you, and at the same time, I don't know what to say . I never left you. Did you know you have panic attacks in your sleep? I've been with you all of this time. The day after you sent me away, your mom called me late at nights, telling me to come over. You scream... a lot if I'm not there. I came over every night." He must see the gears turning in my head because he answers my question before I ask it. " There is no way you would have known. You always sleep through the night, and I'm gone before you wake up. I didn't want you to know because you told me to leave you alone." He starts a small rhythm on the area of my hips where skin is being exposed. I can feel his breath, heavy even through my clothes.

"Baby, you are beautiful when you are asleep , but even more so when you are awake. Your is the only thing I ever want to hear, and you are the only one I ever want to see. I don't know what to say because when you said all of those things to me in your room, all I could think about was how wrong and blind you were. You are the right kind of person for me, and the rest of the world. You're smart, and I get the idea that you don't know how incredibly sexy you are." I can feel where his face has come back to rest above the bulge in my jeans. "You are desirable, and I definitely do want you." Pressure. "In more ways than one. You are perfect." His hands are sliding up my sides and then all the way back down my back, and then my dick, where he stops to squeeze it. His hands strongly pull down on my body to bring me to the ground in front of him. He puts my eyes in a vice grip with his own, holding me in place for his next words.

"One thing is most certainly true; I do love you." He connects my lips and I am grateful because it saves me from having to say it back because I am definitely not ready for that yet. I am lost in the feel of his lips strongly against mine, and then the flutter of his lips as he kisses down my neck and then to my shoulder. As he reaches my chest, he starts to push me down onto my back and I go willingly, his lips making their way further and further down. He stretches his neck to reach back up to my lips, effectively distracting me as he pops open the button on my jeans. I sigh against his mouth with relief at the reduced pressure on my dick. The pressure lightens entirely when he pushes the front of my pants and boxers to free my dick. My eyes are falling shut from the the intensity of feeling his hand on me. With my eyes closed there is no way for me to know he was sliding down my body until his breath is fanning right over my crotch. The look he gives me can't be described as asking because there is no way in hell for it to be possible for asking to look that hot. That is his last hesitation before his mouth is slowly working over me, taking my dick all the way to the back of his throat.

My senses are on high alert because of the sensation of feeling his throat constrict around me. I may or may not be moaning, but I am sure he won't forget these needy sounds I'm making. I can't resist running my fingers through his hair because he is molding himself there and not pulling off to breathe. It not only physically feels great, but it feels great on the inside. I feel it now; he wants me, and I don't think I can continue to deny any longer that I want him too. It only takes a couple more constrictions of his throat and him humming and vibrating my whole body before I'm tearing apart at the seams, exploding into his mouth with no warning.

My world is shining bright despite the fact that the sun is starting to go down. My vision is flashing behind my eyes and I'm not bothered by it one bit.

"No one has ever done that for me before." It's a little embarrassing to admit out loud, but it wasn't until now that I realized what I've been missing. He stills for a moment before moving up to kiss under my chin.

"Well, those guys must have been complete assholes; most guys are." He sits back up and tucks me back into my boxer-briefs and then redoes my jeans.

"You're not like most guys." Ahh, that was a stupidly lame thing to say, but it was out of my control because a lazy grin is stretched across my lips. He props me up against his chest before pulling me up to go inside.

His bedroom is just as comfortable as I remember it being, especially his bed, which is where I am drowning in a sea of blankets with my head on his chest. His fingers on one hand are twined tightly with mine while the other hand is rolling through my hair, slowly scratching my scalp every once in a while, sending butterflies flying through my stomach. The slow up and down movement of his chest is calming me down to the core. The rumble of his voice working through his chest tells me he is going to speak before I hear him.

"Can we talk?" I hate that he is asking me because the answer to all of his questions will always be yes.

"Of course." He doesn't talk though, at least not for the next ten minutes.

"You know those pictures in my house of another boy that you asked about?" He can feel me nod my head. "He was my-" Ragged breath. "b-brother. His name was Christian. He was only a couple of years older than me, but I looked up to him like he a superhero. He actually got me into Batman when I was little and helped start my obsession. He was so happy, and he lit up my world, but that was just his life at home. At school, he got bullied and fell in with the wrong crowd. We had no clue about that part of his life, or how depressed he was feeling. We found out when it was too late."

"I came home one day and my parents were out so I went to hang out with him, but I stood knocking on his door for twenty minutes without him answering me. When I opened the door, his- I found him on the floor in a pool of his own blood. He cut too deep, and opened up part of his neck too just to make sure it would be fatal. I didn't know it yet, but he was long gone before I even found him. I sat on the floor just holding his body and screaming for two hours until my parents hot home. That really fucked me up. We moved that summer and ended up here just in time for me to start high school. I vowed to never let that happen to anyone around me again." He tightens his grip on my hand, but I don't think he notices what he is doing.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that kind of pain and loss." I reflexively squeeze his hand and turn my head so I can kiss his chest.

"That day when I found you on the bridge, I thought I was going to have to deal with that again. I thought you were going to kill yourself." His voice doesn't waver even a little.

"I didn't go there with that intention but I am sure that if you hadn't shown up then, I don't know what I might have done. There is a good chance I wouldn't be here now. Thank you." I don't know how to show that I am serious except to lean up and kiss him, hard. I leave it in his control, and he holds me there for a little longer.

"Chris, I know you do it because everything builds up and you don't know how else to deal with it. I completely understand that, but I don't want you hurting yourself anymore. Don't let it build up, you have to let it out. You can let it out to me. Talk to me, hell, if you're angry at the world, you can yell at me. If you're sad or frustrated, you can cry to me. I am here for you, and I always will be. I can handle anything you have to throw at me. I can do anything you need me to." He is so deeply sincere that i can feel his words in my blood, flowing and making me warm from the inside out. I roll over on top of him, straddling his waist, my hair falling to cover my eyes. He reaches up to push it aside but ends up holding his hand to the side of my face. He is stunning from this angle with his hair surrounding him in a dark halo and framing his face perfectly.

"All I need from you right now is you." When he stretches down tome and seals our lips, I know he is saying yes to the question I sort of didn't really ask.

Later on, when he is holding me tightly to him and my breath is slowing with every passing minute, I wait for the silence to set in before I break it.

"Do you think she is going to be alright?" My voice sounds weak, even to my own ears.

"Honestly, I don't know. All we can do is hope and pray that she recovers. But you should really go visit her. Even with Alex by his side she probably misses you." I drift off to sleep with his voice spinning around in my head.

I don't dream that night. As far as I fall into sleep, I feel him there with me. He is a light, slowly warming up my life. There is no terror or fear in my sleep, only hope and contentment. Maybe things are looking up.

Notes

mooooooooooore :)