Wait for it

by Dramitcus

Summary:

Aaron Burr has learned to hate himself over the years. Learned who he is wrong. Will he ever learn to truly love himself and others?

Notes:

This is my first-ever fanfiction. Tell me what you like and don't like about it. I'll try to update consistently.

Chapter 1

I love my life. I love my life. Maybe if I said it enough, I would start to believe it too. I don’t know when I started to hate myself in my teens; before, let’s be honest, it was before. My parents had high expectations, really high, so high I'd never been able to reach them. I still loved them even if they took away my social activities or food or just beat me. I don’t think I was a bad kid. I consistently earned all A’s because, in my parents' eyes, it was the expected standard for someone born into the Burr family. I remember in the eighth grade when I brought home my first B. It didn't even affect my yearly average. Mom and Dad were livid.

”What is this?”, my mom snapped

“It was the highest grade on that test, Mom,” I replied cheerfully.

“Is that so, and you didn't think to aim higher?” she questioned.

“What do you mean I topped my class?” I replied naively.

“Aaron, that top spot won’t last for long, and we both know it. This weekend you won’t be getting any outside time; maybe that will set you straight.” She retorted, her voice growing louder each passing minute

“But Mom,” i begged

“End of discussion unless you want more,” she said, her voice filled with finality

I stopped talking. I'd learned when to stop and when to hold my tongue. I had the scars to prove it.
After they died in that accident, I felt relief, not sadness. I cried, sure, but not about the fact I would never see my parents again.

Then I got to live with Uncle Tim. My mom’s brother. A well-respected member of his community who jumped at the chance to take me in as soon as he heard the news. Noting a growing boy should be raised by family, not strangers. He was somehow even worse. Religious to the point of cultist extremes. He was hospitable at first until he noticed my homosexual tendencies. Staring at shirtless men on the TV for too long, renting movies like Baywatch on loop, and of course the “friend” that he found me making out with in my bedroom.

His name was John. He was so fucking hot—a literal football player—and he was sin on a platter for a closeted kid like me, so when he needed extra help in English, of course I volunteered. He started coming over after school every day. My uncle didn't think anything of it; little did he know what we did behind closed doors. At first I really was tutoring him; then he started being handsy. Then he kissed me, my first ever kiss. I should’ve pushed him off. I knew I should have, but I couldn’t. Our secret dates were going fine until about 3 months in. We had finally gotten over awkward noses bumping while we kissed and had moved into light humping while making out. During one of these sessions a particularly heated one, my uncle walked in.

“What the fuck are you doing, Aaron?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Uncle Tim I’m so sorry, John, get off, I say while trying to push off John.

“John, I suggest you get out of this house. Me and Aaron have things to discuss,” he demanded

John ran out almost as soon as the words left his mouth, mumbling about texting me later. My uncle grabbed me off the bed and forced me into the living room.

The anger he had slowly dissolved into a serious calm. He told me this act of rebellion wasn’t bringing my parents back; it was only driving me further from seeing them again in heaven. This single incident led to at-home conversion therapy. Slap on the wrist when I lusted over Matt Dillon. Prayers for my soul, a lot of them. He even tried to get an exorcism for me, but the priest on the phone thankfully didn't agree. In the span of barely a year, my parents had died, I figured out my sexuality, and I turned 16. This was the year when I truly started to notice how much I hated myself. The hate had alway been there, sure but now it threatened to show the world that Aaron burr may not have been as perfect as he put on

Uncle Tim took me to church almost every time after my therapy just to make sure the effects of my actions really sunk in. The preacher on stage spewed the same fire and brimstone that my uncle did at home. But he wasn’t a true Christian, my uncle said. That being said, my uncle believed that anyone who didn’t pray for 12 hours a day wasn’t a true Christian.
My school life wasn’t much better than my home life. After the incident at my house, John completely stopped talking to me. It wasn't like I had many friends to begin with. I was smart, captain of the debate team and mock trial. My teachers loved me so when college admissions rolled around, I had no trouble getting into Princeton, both of my parents' alma mater. One of the only things I had promised them before they died was that I would get in. College would be better, I promised myself. I wouldn’t want to kill myself as much as make friends or even get a boyfriend. Sadly, depression and suicidal thoughts don't just go away the second you remove yourself from an abusive uncle.

Chapter 2

Summary:

Aaron moves into his dorm and meets his roomate.

Notes:

I didn't expect to write another chapter today, but here we are.

My first week at college wasn’t the best. Sure, I knew being a political science major would be tough, but that wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was my roommate. Alexander Hamilton. Sure, I had enough money to splurge for a single room, but I thought this would be the time to make new friends. As I walked in, I knew he was going to be a problem. Energy drink cans all around. The suitcase was forgotten on the floor at a stage of unpacking. Blinds closed. A man sitting at a desk with blue light from a laptop illuminating his disheveled appearance.

“Umm, hello. I’m Aaron. I think I may be in the wrong place. Is this 213”? I stammered out.

“Hmm, oh yeah, 213. You’re the roommate? Cool. Well, I'm Alexander. Nice to meet you, umm, Anthony, right?” he said, offering a quick nod.

“No, it’s Aaron, but it’s whatever,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Sorry, what did you say?” He muttered, glancing at his phone.

“Never mind, it was nothing.” I added, trying to look elsewhere but at his eyes.

I walk in and set my suitcase down on the bed. I'm not trying to engage with him anymore. I annoyed my roommate on the first day. Great. Why was I so useless and dumb? I make everything worse. Now I really wouldn’t be making friends. As I open the closet, clothes flood onto the floor.

“Shit, I'm sorry. I’ll clean this up.” I blurted out, hoping to fix the situation.

“You don't have to do that. I should’ve warned you.” He reassured, his tone calm and sincere.

“No, I’ll do it. Don’t worry about it.” I say as I bend down to start picking up clothes. Now I made a mess of his wardrobe.

“Let me help you,” he offered, kneeling beside me.

“No, you don't have to; you were doing work. I promise it's fine. I enjoy cleaning.” I insist, waving him off as I fold another shirt.

“You didn't cause the mess. Besides, I was just organizing my Google Drive; I can do that later in the week.” He replied, his voice calm and easy. “It wasn't very considerate of me, now, was it?”

“It's fine; everyone makes mistakes.” I shrugged, as if it truly didn’t bother me.

“You’re right, Anthony,” he acknowledged, giving a small nod. Then I got a view of his face, a real look. Soft features, light stubble, and messy hair that framed his face just right. Fuck, he was going to be a distraction. As we cleaned up the clothes, I couldn’t help but stare every time he wasn’t paying attention. When we finally finished, we talked about our classes. I learned he was a political science major too. He talked about himself a lot, not that I was complaining; my life was depressing, and he was full of adventure. He talked about all the parties he went to in high school, all the people he’d slept with, and all the debates he’d won. Every time I wanted to add something in, I stopped myself, knowing he would want to hear it. As the night wound down, I guess he’d finally gotten tired of hearing himself talk and asked me a dreaded question.

“So what about you?” he asked, leaning forward with interest.

“What about me?” I replied, raising my eyebrow slightly.

“Come on, I’ve basically told you my entire life story. There has to be one thing you want to share with me.” he said, nudging me playfully.

“I mean, I was in mock trial.” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Mock trial? Really? My school didn't have one of those. Was it fun?” he asked, eyes lighting up.

“I guess I was captain.” I replied with a casual shrug, trying to make myself seem cooler than I truly was.

“Did you win any?” he asked, leaning in with curiosity.

“I mean, we won some, we lost some.” I said, avoiding his gaze.

“Stop it right there. Why so vague? Afraid you’re going to scare me off with all your amazing achievements? Come on, tell me something, a story; there has to be something. Come on, pretty boy, tell me about yourself,” he teased, grinning at me.

“Pretty boy, really? I'm not pretty.” I scoffed, trying to hide my face as I felt it getting hotter.

“Well, sorry, Anthony, is that better?” He joked, laughing softly.

“My name isn’t Anthony.” I said quietly, glancing away.

“What?” he asked, surprised.

“My name is Aaron. You had your headphones in when I came in the door, and I didn’t want to correct you.” I explained, my voice lowering and more than a little embarrassed.

“So you just let me call you by the wrong thing all night?” he asked, half-laughing, half-incredulous.

“I mean, yeah, I didn't want to interrupt you.” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

“Well, Aaron, we're friends now, right? Friends don't let friends call them by random names,” he said, nudging me again with a smirk.

“Do I still have to tell you something?” I asked, pretending to groan, trying to lighten the mood.

“You really hate talking about yourself that much? Fine, not tonight, but one day, Aaron, I’m going to know every single detail about you. ” he said, pointing at him with mock seriousness.

“Okay.” I said while I chuckled.

“Well, what’s your first class tomorrow?” he asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Political Science 101 with Washington,” I replied.

“Me too. I guess we can walk there together,” he offered, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’d like that.” I said, trying to fill my voice with warmth.

“Well, I'm tired. See you in the morning.” He yawned and rolled over in his bed. I stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, my mind swirling with questions. Had he really meant it when he called me pretty? How could he care about what I had to say? Why couldn’t I stop staring at him? As I drifted off, I wondered why he was being so nice to someone like me. Maybe he was like Jeffrey Dahmer and was plotting on killing me before Christmas break. Even though he didn’t seem like the type, you never knew.

I woke up in the morning to the smell of coffee, not my alarm. This wasn’t the cheap Folgers my uncle always drank; it was rich with deep flavor notes of chocolate and cherry.

“What is that?” I asked, sitting up slowly in bed.

“Good morning, want some coffee?” He replied, lifting a steaming mug with a grin.

“It smells amazing. What brand is it?” I said while unraveling myself from the blanket.

“Death Wish has so much more caffeine per serving, meaning I don't have to brew as many cups, which technically saves money.” he explained, clearly proud of his logic.

“How much more?” I asked.

“About seven times more.” He shrugged, taking another sip, not seeing anything wrong with that fact.

“Oh, I’ll pass.” I shook my head, showing I wanted no part in the coffee he offered.

“Come on, all political science majors are supposed to be caffeine addicted,” he teased, rifling through a small fridge. “Maybe an energy drink is more your taste. I have tons; I'll share.”
“No, I’m good. Caffeine makes me anxious; I can barely drink coffee without my hands shaking for the rest of the day.” I say quickly.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a chuckle, closing the fridge. “Anyway, are you ready to start walking? I heard you need to get to class early. Washington likes when people are at least five minutes early.”

“Sure, let me just get dressed quickly.” I said, finally pulling myself out of bed.

“Cool, take your time; we’re going to be early either way,” he said, plopping onto the edge of the bed.

I put on something basic, a t-shirt and jeans. Then we walked out the door. Hamilton went on and on about his excitement and how he heard about the students in Washington’s class always went on to greatness. The way he talked made everything seem more interesting somehow. His voice was hypnotic, adding a subtle flair to every word that came out of his mouth. The way he babbled reminded me of a kid who just got asked about their Christmas presents. He never seemed to want a response as he talked, and I didn’t mind. I found myself getting caught up in it, in him. As we made it to class, we walked in the door, the first ones to arrive. As we took our seats in the classroom two rows back, Alex suggested showing we cared but not too much. The room had a projector and whiteboard. We sat until our professor, Washington, walked in. He was tall, around 6’2 or 6’3. His bald head gleamed in the fluorescent light of our classroom.

“Welcome, high achievers. You made it to class before the professor. I’m impressed,” his voice bellowed throughout the room. Hamilton sat up straight, and for the first time in the 20 hours I’d known him, he’d stopped talking much, to my displeasure. As more people filled into the room. Hamilton and everyone else looked like they belonged in this room. For me, that was a different story. As I bounced my leg. Hamilton put his hand on it, stopping the anxious habit.

“Come on, stop worrying getting into the room was the hard part.”, He whispered into my ear, his breath hot but grounding. The gesture felt weirdly intimate, but I knew it was nothing more than a friendly gesture. That being said, it calmed me down just enough to focus on the board in front of me.

Chapter 3

Alex was gone almost every night from our dorm, either partying or studying. I wasn't mad at him for that; in fact, I was glad that he was enjoying college. It wasn’t like he didn’t always invite me out with him; I was just scared. The people here were different. I constantly felt their eyes on me, even if I was just walking around on campus. Maybe I had gained weight since I’d been here; maybe I should stop eating so much. No one should have to live with a pig. Alex burst into the room after his last class of the day.
“You’re coming out with me tonight,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. ”College is not for sitting around in your room all day without human interaction. It’s for meeting new people.”

“Alex, no, I have tons of work to do and—” I started before alex cut off my excuse

“We both know that is not true. You have too much anxiety to not do work the day it's assigned,” he replied smoothly.

“Do I have to talk?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I would like people to know my roommate isn’t mute; in fact, he has a wonderful voice and a big brain that’s full of brilliant ideas.” He added a smile, replacing his usual arrogant smirk. “Well, that is unless you are going for more of a tortured, brooding academic, mysterious aura, and all that. Now, that would get you laid, pretty boy.”
As soon as those words leave his mouth, my face gets hot. Just as hot as the first time he called me it.

“I’ll get my coat,” I say, trying to end the conversation as fast as possible. ”Where are you taking me?”

“Oh, just a little thing at one of my buddies’ house. His name is Herc; you’re going to love him. Now he’s a fashion major, and his boyfriend, Gilbert, is a theater major, but they’re really good people, but be warned, they are disgustingly in love with each other. It may get a little loud; just tell me if you get overstimulated or anything like that.” he rambled while opening the door

“I don’t get overstimulated; I’ll be fine.” I mumble, trying to defend myself

“Aaron, yesterday I dried my hair for too long, and you looked like you wanted to claw out your own eardrums.” he said with an raised eyebrow

“Good point.” I say, knowing he’s right.

As we walked into Herc’s apartment, the first thing I noticed was the smell of freshly baked cookies. The gathering really was small. When we walked in, a tall, burly man welcomed us with a plate of cookies.

“Alex I haven't seen you in forever! Oh, is this Aaron? Here, take a cookie. It's triple chocolate. Dark chocolate base with milk and white chocolate chips.”

“Oh, thank you.” I said while taking the cookie carefully from the plate.

“Come sit down. Gilbert! Alex and Aaron are here,” Herc said, leading us to a plush black leather couch.

“I’ll be out in a second; I’m doing makeup.” A voice that I assumed was Gilbert's called back.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you Herc makes amazing everything—cookies, cakes, even pasta. He's a jack-of-all-trades.” Alex stated in between a bite of his cookie.

Then a lanky man with wild curls stepped out; he was only slightly taller than Herc. With a face of wild blues and greens.

“You must be Aaron. Hi, I’m Gilbert.” His voice had a slight accent, something vaguely European.

“Hi, thanks for letting me crash your party tonight,” I replied, suddenly feeling like I didn’t belong.

“Nonsense, we love company,” Herc said while patting me on the back. While his comment was sweet, it didn't get rid of the sense that I wasn't needed here. Alex, Herc, and Gilbert talked about their high school days. I just sat to the side and listened. I heard their laughter grow louder as I became more aware of the cookie still in my hand, untouched. Alex looked back at me, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Hey, are you good?” He whispered, “You were supposed to tell me if you got overwhelmed, remember?”

“I’m fine,” I say, not even believing the lie myself.

“Aaron, don’t lie to me; you’re overthinking everything you’re doing right now.” He continued, his hand resting on my knee.

“I’m sorry I’m ruining this for you.” I apologized.

“You’re not. Having you here is better than you sitting in a dorm room all alone. Just sit here; it's okay to just be.” He affirmed moving his hand and slowly shifting away to give me space

“Okay,” I say, not wanting to press any further, still not fully believing Alex.

As the night wound down, I thought about my life. How I was always forced to stay upstairs during my parents’ fancy dinner parties. They said no one wanted me around, nor did they want to hear anything I had to say. Maybe they were right. Alex finally got tired, and we said our farewells. I still hadn’t eaten the cookie the entire night. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Hey, im proud of you. ” alex expressed turning to look at me as we walked

“Thanks,” I mumbled, looking down at my feet. Alex lifts my chin with two fingers, forcing me to look at him.

“I’m serious. You didn't run when you walked into the apartment. You tried your best tonight, and that's all that matters.” He assured. “Now are you going to eat that cookie? Because if you don’t, I will.”

I laughed for the first time all night. Alex made me feel safe, special, and seen. But I knew I didn't deserve what he gave me; after all, no one wanted me around.

Chapter 4

Notes:

This chapter contains themes of depression, self-harm, and emotional distress. Please read with care.

Life at college seemed to be moving at two times speed. Before I knew it, fall break had arrived. I was doing well in all my classes, and Alex and I had become more comfortable. If I were being honest, he was one of the highlights of my day. Scratch that—THE highlight. We always had something to talk about. The reading Professor Washington had assigned. Or people in the few classes we shared. Unlike everyone else on campus, I was dreading the holiday. Alex was going back home, which for me meant a week of being alone. While I could go stay with my uncle, that would be more torturous than just staying in the whole week. I didn’t want Alex to worry, so I told him I had a late flight out conveniently after I knew he would already be gone.

“Aaron! I'm about to leave.” He chirped, his voice having a somewhat lighter feel to it.

“Bye, have fun with your family.” I said groggily, having only woken up a few minutes prior.

“I’ll text you when I get there. Bye.” He raced out of the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Our shared room was empty for the first time in two months. Even though I was still in it without Alex, the house just lacked the fullness it usually had. He was the only living person in it, after all. I lay back on my bed, my eyes looking at the ceiling. Maybe I would eat in a little bit, but not right now. I drifted off before I even realized it. When I awoke, I had no idea what time it was, and I didn’t care either. It seemed that the ability to be a functioning adult had walked out of the door with Alex. The days were characterized by bouts of insomnia followed by sleeping for 12 hours. I tried to be productive But every time I tried to get ahead on an assignment, I would just stare at the screen in front of me, hoping the answers would just come to me, but they never did. I didn’t feel like doing anything, eating? Nope. Showering? Hard pass on my part. Moving? Never heard of it? I just sat.

One day I realized I should at least try to drink something, anything. As I got up from the couch and reached for a glass on the counter, I just dropped it. Of course I dropped it. What more could you expect? The glass shards shimmered even from the limited light in the space, taunting me. I picked up the biggest piece first, and then I nicked my finger. It hurt, but it dulled the numbness inside my head. I felt for the first time in days. For the first time in I don't know how many days, I thought they weren’t good thoughts, but they were still thoughts. Maybe I deserved that. I was horrible, like a toddler Alex had to drag around. He couldn’t take time for himself anymore. You and Alex aren't friends; he pitied you, his sad, lonely, pathetic excuse of a roommate. I slide the glass over my arm. The pain. It was what I deserved. I hated every moment of it. I should stop. I should stop. But people that let down their family and friends deserve pain. They don’t deserve comfort. They are pieces of trash that nobody wants around. Human garbage. Useless. I had to keep going over and over and over. Shit. I didn't mean to cut that much. I had barely even registered the blood running down my arm until just now. I chunked the glass, trying to get rid of evidence, and cleaned up the rest too. I slowly stood up, knowing I couldn’t just bleed out right now no matter how much I wanted to. I tried to clean up the best I could, washed my arm with water that was far too hot—it stung, but not enough for me to care—and wrapped it with gauze. I climbed back onto the couch, my task of getting water forgotten. I lay on my stomach, my eyes welling up. I didn’t let myself cry; I didn’t deserve that.

This wasn’t the first time I’d hurt myself. It started when I was about 10. My parents had just screamed at me for god knows how long about god knows what. When i was finally allowed to go to bed. I sat on my floor crying. I hit myself. I didn’t know why i just did it. Hit after hit. Thankfully it didn’t bruise, but it could still feel it days after. This started me seeking danger at every opportunity. Climbing trees, wanting to fall, and skateboarding on ramps i knew were too hard just to scrape my knees. My parents didn’t seem to care about how kids beat me up for no reason or that i let them. This went on for a few years, and then they died. I got tired of picking fights and skateboarding. But i was too scared to cut, and even if I did, Uncle Tim might think I was a Satanist and kick me out.

I hear my phone buzz, forgotten on the coffee table beside me. I grabbed it. It was a text from Alex. Hey, are you still alive? The words seem to float off the screen, dancing around me. No matter how much I wished I wasn’t, I was sadly still here. If I didn’t respond, he was going to freak out. And call, but Alex couldn’t hear me like this or see me like this. Sorry I haven’t texted you; my uncle has been getting on my nerves. I hoped that didn’t sound weird. He texted back with a picture of his cat. Her name was Aria. She had blue eyes and a long orange coat; she looked ethereal, almost like an angel. She was beautiful. just like Alex, but I couldn’t text him that. So I just said, Cute cat. I didn’t remember falling asleep. I never did. After making sure I was alive, Alex started texting more often. Pictures of his family, sunsets, and food. All I could muster to text back most of the time was a thumbs-up emoji. Then Alex came back a day early. He texted, on my way. Two hours before he was scheduled back. I jumped off the couch and scrambled to the bathroom, scrubbing until it felt like my skin could fall off. I changed clothes for the first time since Monday. Still wearing long sleeves, I couldn’t let him see my mistake. There wasn’t much to clean since I’d just sat in the dorm all week, so I just made my bed. I sat back on the couch and turned on a dumb show. One that I wasn’t even watching. One I put on so Alex would think I was okay. Before i knew it, a key turned the lock. And in stepped Alex.

“Aaron! I missed you!” he said enthusiastically, plopping down beside me on the couch. “What are you watching?”

“I don’t know; it was just on.” I mumbled with a shrug.

“Okay, then, so how was your uncle’s place?” He draped his arm across the back of the couch.

“Fine, i guess.” I sighed.

“Do you want to talk right now?” He replied, eyes scanning over me.

“Not really.”

“That’s okay; we don’t have to. I’m just glad to be back here with my roommate.” He said, shifting slightly closer than before. My body relaxed more than it had all week. Just sitting in his presence was all i needed.

Notes:

Light burr torture?

Chapter 5

Notes:

This took a while. I'm going to start trying to be more consistent, though.

After the break, everything went back to normal. Alex chatted with me constantly when we did anything. He started talking about how great his dads were. the funny thing was they were both named George. I felt anxious wondering when Alex would find out and stop being my friend. My chest was still as tight as the moment he left just a week ago. One night when we didn’t have anything to do. We lay on the couch. My head on alex’s lap. HIs hand tangled in my hair. I knew this wasn’t the most roommate-like activity, but nobody had to know.

Alex knew something was wrong, and I hated lying to him, but the truth was worse. One time Alex and I were at a party, and he was flirting with everyone—girls and guys—with his effortless charm. I knew he was bi; that part wasn’t important, but none of the people he talked to looked like me. Their thighs didn't touch, their stomachs didn't fold when they sat, and they didn't jiggle with every step. I wondered if maybe, just maybe, if I lost weight, Alex would look at me with those eyes. So I made a few rules for myself.
One meal a day
No seconds even if you were starving
Make sure to wear clothes that cover up my stomach and arms.
Calorie counting daily calories shouldn’t exceed 1,200 if they do, be ready to bare the consequences
I bought a notebook. I filled the pages with how much I ate and exercised. 15-minute walk to the library: -50. Half an apple at the dining hall +47.5 I made a game out of it. I rarely lost, and when I did, I made sure I felt it. If I only missed the mark by 5-20, I would just do an extra workout the next day. Anything over deserved immediate action. The bathroom, in a way, became the part of our room I spent the most time in. I’d turn on the shower then press the blade to my skin Over and over. I’d gotten smarter too. I stopped cutting my arms and moved on to my thighs, easily covered even in summer. I watched as the weight fell off. Guys in class noticed me and asked if I wanted to study. I never said yes; the only person I wanted was Alex. he was wroth every second of painful torture I put myself through. He was worth the lightheadedness. The nights were spent cutting or throwing up in our bathroom. Every time I almost passed out. Everything was easier when you were smaller. Especially class. I turned in everything early, and my teachers learned my name. I worked hard late into the night while Alex slept. Sometimes he would even take my computer if he though i was working too much. Take it off my lap and say it’s “time for you to sleep, pretty boy,” Even though I’d seen him work till sunrise. I play to win and all the consequences from it. Then professor Washington saw me cracking a joke and wrote a note on my midterm: “Amazing work as always. Just wanted you to know my door is always open.” I never went. i didn’t need help; i was perfectly fine. One day as i walked out of class, Professor Washington cornered me.

“Aaron, are you all right?”

“Peachy, is my work not up to par?”

“No, quite the opposite, but you’re worrying me.”

“I’m sorry to run out, but i really need to get some food. I’m starving.” He grabbed my wrist, pulling up my hoodie just enough to reveal the tops of scars. Before he could say anything else, i ran. On my next assignment, i would get small notes. “Burr, see me after class if you have time.” I never made time. Still the notes kept coming. “You can't keep avoiding your problems.” Then one day He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his office.

“What was that for!”

“Aaron stop we both know what this is about.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“Want to bet? I know those scars on your arms aren’t from a cat.” We stood there frozen for a moment.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. You grade my shitty essays; that’s it. What I choose to do in my free time is my business.” I snapped my tone, surprising me.

“It became my business when my son fell in love with you.”

“What?” My stomach dropped.

“Alex, he’s my adopted son. he’s lived with me and my husband almost his entire life. Aaron, he looks at you as if you’ve hung the stars.” He sad a humorless chuckle leaving his lips

“He sure shows it in a funny way. He flirts with every living thing around him,” my tone becoming bitter

“Alex doesn’t stop talking about you. Says you're funny, smart, and amazing company. If you won't get help for yourself, then do it for him.”

“No, i’m completely fine. i dont need help.” I yelled, walking towards the door. ”I’m dropping your class effective immediately.”

“Aaron, wait—” his words were cut off by a sharp slam of the door. As i sat on my bed filling out the class change form alex walked in.

“Hey,” he said, climbing onto my bed like always. ”Aaron, what are you doing?”

“Requesting a new poli sci teacher” I murmured, my voice devoid of any emotion

“What, why?” he said.

“Washington isn’t challenging me enough; I need a change of pace,” I replied firmly.

“Aaro-”

“I’m an adult; i can do whatever i want whenever i want to, got it? i dont need your opinion.” My word, harsh. i saw his face drop; it hurt my heart, but this was for the best. I and alex stopped hanging out over the course of two weeks. No more dinners and walks. I stopped answering my phone. I stopped hiding my self-harm. I wanted him to see he would be better off without me. The last time he tried to help me was on a Friday night. I told him we didn’t work well together and we should consider other options. He looked hurt but left the room and went to gil and herc’s. After he left, i let myself sob; after all, it would be one of the last times.

Chapter 6

Notes:

This one is a bit short, but I like it. I hope you do too. :)

I’d wanted to die since I was 10. Before my parents died, before I knew I was gay, before Alex. After not reaching my parents expectations for the 1000th time. I’d made a 92 on an English essay. The whole way home, I cried. I already knew the punishment: I was to be sent to bed without dinner. Not that it mattered anyway; I was starting to get thunder thighs anyway. I sobbed, wondering why I was such a screwup. I buried my face in my pillow and cried. I pressed the pillow down harder; I'd seen people get smothered on those crime shows my parents watched. It seemed peaceful once you stopped fighting your demise. But I didn't die. The universe wouldn't grant me that luxury. I pushed the pillow off my face when i felt too hot, gasping for air like a fish. In the morning i wanted to say something, anything. I wanted them to know I wasn't okay. But what could I say? Hey, Mom and Dad, last night after you yelled, I tried to kill myself.

The only difference now was this time it was going to work; I was sure of it. It was Christmas break. I had nowhere to go yet again. I hadn't seen alex since our fight, and i knew now was the time. All I had was Tylenol, and that would have to be enough. The bottle was new; I’d bought it a few days ago just for this. The cashier at the store was bubbly and friendly like Alex, and my heart ached. I looked around the room full of reminders of him: his energy drinks and hair ties.

The bottle felt heavier than usual, like it was weighed down by wasted potential. I sat on alex’s bed; it still smelled like him. I unscrewed the top. I dry swallowed 1, then 2, then 3, and then i stopped counting. I was only acutely aware of how it was almost empty. I slumped off the bed, the room spinning. Then I smiled, knowing Alex would finally be happier with me weighing him down.

Notes:

Guys, is there any particular direction you want the story to go in? If so, please comment it. I have a few ideas, but I idk.

Chapter 7

Summary:

Umm, I'm alive. This took, like, forever, but I'm posting. I hope y'all like it. :) It's also short, but at least I wrote something.

I wasn’t dead, but I wasn’t alive either, just somewhere in between. Then I heard a voice, sharp and pristine, just how I remember: my mom.

“Aaron, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. An overdose, really? Such a half-assed attempt.” she sneered. She looked the same: tall, stern, and classy. Beautiful and perfect. If I were only half as good as her, I wouldn’t have been in this situation.

“You’ve always been such a disappointment, you know that, right? Such a failure, Aaron. Your father and I tried our best with you, and look how you turned out.” Then she faded away into this blinding white. No closure. I never got that, not like i deserved it anyway.

Then i was standing in the middle of a room, a bedroom, one i had never seen before. It had pictures all around of Alex, an older version. One with the same crooked smile and eyes that bore into your soul. His hair was longer and his clothes more expensive, but it was still him. Then I saw other photos of Thomas. A guy from our political science class, Alex, and he were like water and oil. They were always arguing, but they respected each other. I guess hate and love are truly the same emotion. They looked happy, and I was too. I was happy that Alex found someone normal to love. I hoped he didn't think about me or care that i was gone. I hoped he didn't even remember me.

Then I was in another place, my bedroom from when i was 10. It was blank, with only 3 pieces of furniture: a bed, a desk, and a dresser. I could see the holes from the pushpins that used to hang my drawings, one of the only things that brought me joy. My parents made me take them all down after another “failed” test. They said i had to get rid of all the distractions in my life if I ever wanted to truly succeed. Then i looked at the bed. There I was. Small and weak, I had truly always been pathetic. I had scrapes on my knees. Small cuts everywhere else. My hand was balled into a fist, hitting my other arm. I was crying, sobbing like a widow. I had lost something myself. I was so small. So useless. I thought that would make me happy or better. Then the door creaked open. In the frame it was my mom or dad; it was Alex. Not the professional Alex or the perfect Alex. My Alex, the one who kissed my cheeks when I cried, the one who called me pretty boy just to see my face go completely red. He sat on the bed with little me and held his hands still until he stopped hitting. Rubbed his head till he stopped crying.

“Aaron, it’s okay to hurt,” he said, finally looking at me. ”You shouldn’t have to hurt alone, though.”

“But...I'm a burden.” I sniffed, finally noticing the tears streaming down my face.

“Who told you that, your parents? Huh, your uncle. When did he start believing that no one would want him around?” He chuckled, patting little me’s head. “Aaron, you’ve spent your entire life trying to make everyone else happy, but what about you? Come back to me, Aaron.” Then another blinding light.

I woke up covered in vomit.