Straight Boys - Chapter 38: Chapter 38
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Andrew's POV
I didn't go to school for a while after I had finally just snapped. I didn't go to school because I couldn't remember half of what happened, and that scared the shit out of me.
I do, however, remember Zachary picking me up after I had calmed down, walking me to the nurse's office, but after that, I couldn't really remember a damn thing. My body had shut down seemingly to protect myself from, well, myself. I only remembered snippets here and there.
"What happened?" The nurse had asked, immediately jumping to her feet when she saw two boys entering her office, one supporting all the weight of the other on his shoulders to help him walk.
"He wasn't breathing," Zachary had started to say, but his voice was breathy and he couldn't quite get all his words out without jumbling them together, "and-and. . . I think he was about to pass out or-. . . Or he fell down and couldn't move, couldn't speak. . . I- um - I think he was having a panic attack." It was the first time, I think, that Zachary Rogers didn't know what to say or do. He had always been the one to have something on the tip of his tongue to say, and it was always clear, concise and maybe even a little Jackass-y. He was always the level headed one. It never occurred to me that Zachary would ever feel so... so helpless.
Even when he was telling me about his mom, and how he had lossed her, he never outwardly conveyed this downright life-crippling emotion to me.
And I think that's why I remembered that part so much.
Then my mind had left me there, trying to help me forget about whatever the hell was happening to me, about whatever the hell had happened to me. Although, I do remember the nurse talking to someone at her office door, and my dad's voice, after what seemed like only a few seconds, suddenly finding its way into my ears.
"Andrew?" He had called, but as soon as he saw me, he was kneeling over my bed while he stroked the hair out of my sweaty face. Behind him, there was a clock, and I remember seeing the hands pointing at almost eight-thirty in the morning. The clock now read almost eleven. I had been in that office for over two hours. It only felt like seconds.
After my dad had picked me up from school, he drove me home, leaving my car in the school parking lot, where it would stay for a long time.
Maybe it had been a week? Maybe more, but I hadn't been to school in a while. I stayed home, away from that Hell hole, away from my newfound problem, and away from all the shit that seemed so misplaced in my life.
I was completely and entirely alone. There was no one around me for once.
The only time I left the house was to visit Lola and mom at the hospital; but even then, however, I was still somewhat alone because Lola slept half the time, or had to go to therapy for the shit weaknesses she developed from the accident. And so when she went off, I would move to my mom's room - since Lola now stayed in the pediatrics part of the hospital - and I sat in life-ruining silence that was never really silent because of the constant beeping of her heart monitor and the thoughts that exploded in my mind, behind my ears, when I had realized I had been slacking on my duties as a son.
Shakily inhaling, I let the sterile air fill my lungs for a pause, before I slowly exhaled with so much sadness, the sadness that I couldn't quite contain anymore, and let my thoughts dissolve away as I sorrowfully watched my mom. My hand rested over her hand, which was discolored and nothing like it used to be, and I let my eyes heavily cast themselves over her still features.
"Mom... I'm sorry." I whispered, the words pain inducing because my throat was closing in on itself.
My life had been so fucked up recently, and yet I still couldn't fucking find time to be with my mom anymore. Isn't this what your father wanted, though?
Yes, but not me.
I had always wanted to, ever since the accident, be with my mom every step of the way and not leave her like I had that night when she obviously needed me. But it was like fate was pulling me away from her and into this whirlpool of constant questions and confusing trips down the lane of life. It was like I was being pulled in opposite directions, wanting to see my mom pulling me one way, and that whole Zachary Rogers mess pulling me the other way.
No, I shouldn't call the thing that was happening between me and Zachary a mess. It wasn't quite that because I somehow could meander my way through it; it was just confusing and so tiring.
Now, the thing with my mom was a fucking garbage pile. It was full of mountains of scars and regrets, and covered in this stench of constant fear and it made me tiptoe around it, not wanting to step in the wrong direction and knock over a pile that could crush me.
I just. . . I didn't know what to do anymore.
I had no idea what to think!
And now Corbett Connors was added to my plate of literal ass, and I wanted to shoot my brains out.
As my thoughts ran wild once more, I glanced away from my mom, the tears I was trying to hold in finding their way past my eyelids.
"I just don't know what to do, mom," I quietly sobbed, talking to both her and no one in particular, trying to get an answer to my problems.
A whimper slipped through my clenched teeth, then a sniffle, and turning my eyes back to her face only made it worse.
I didn't want to cry, but after having not cried for a while, I guess my body thought it was time. So I cried, but I only allowed few pained sounds through clenched jaws. I was near silent because I did not deserve the world hearing my pain. I did not deserve all the shit that was happening to me; yet I did because I still blamed myself for everything that had happened and was happening.
I thought I didn't blame myself for everything, but let's be honest: everything was my fault, wasn't it?
The accident - if I had just picked Lola up after practice instead of losing my temper and ending up having to run laps way past my actual leaving time, then maybe they would both be fine.
This weird relationship between Zach and I - we wouldn't even be in this situation if I had just pushed him away like I had intended, if I had just kept to myself.
Corbett Connors blackmailing me - I shouldn't have gone to that party.
I should have just kept to myself. I was good at it in the past, but not anymore. It seemed, though, that people were just better at snooping into other people's business than I was at trying to keep to myself.
But. . . Do I really regret my feelings for Zachary? My relationships with the people around me? No, I don't regret them. I just wished I had ended up here under different circumstances.
Suddenly, a knock sounded from the door, grabbing my attention away from my thoughts. I looked up, not caring that my eyes were bloodshot, and my voice shakey. My eyebrows rose and I brought the hand not holding my mother's up to wipe away any falling tears.
"Rogers."
Zachary's eyes flashed when I noticed his presence, and he shuffled into my mom's room, a nurse I faintly remembered him talking to homecoming night trailing behind him, but stopping just in the doorway.
He tentatively scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish look painted on his face before he mumbled, "Hi, Andy. . ." The way he used my name made me feel certain butterflies in my stomach and my brain released a plethora of endorphins that lessened the ache in my chest, but it had little effect behind the surprise I was feeling.
"What are you doing here?" I had asked him, standing up and going around my mom's bed to stand a few feet in front of him.
Zach pursed his lips, but he didn't miss a beat after I had asked him. He immediately answered with, "I was worried about you." It made my eyebrows raise to the ceiling.
"Really?"
"Yeah," he blinked, sighing slightly, "of course. You haven't been in school in over a week. Are. . . Are you alright?" When he asked me that, I turned my head to stare over at my mom. My eyes glossed over parts of her machine-hooked body and decided that, no, I wasn't alright.
But I didn't tell him that. I didn't say anything, really. I just looked back at him with this look of indifference, but God, I must really suck at holding in my emotions because all of the a sudden, Zachary had his arms wrapped around my in a bone crushing hug.
On instinct my body wanted to clench up and close in on itself, but I didn't let it. I forced myself to relish in the feel of his arms around me. I liked him hugging me. He seemed to give really good hugs, and I shouldn't be afraid of some hug. So I really did relish the feeling of being wrapped up in the warmth of his embrace. I even hugged him back. I let my hands slowly come up and around his shoulders and finally let them rest there, my fingers almost touching the hair at the nape of his neck. He smelt like cologne and chalk, and it made me want to start crying all over again because it was him.
It was all Zachary Rogers, a boy I had barely known a couple of months ago - but now knew a sizable amount about. It was just him. There. In that hospital room. Comforting me.
And I loved it.
I didn't want it to end; not the thing we had. I wanted us to stay like that forever: not quite knowing everything about each other, but knowing just enough that it makes you - it made me - want to know more, keep finding out little secrets, small things. It made me want to keep Zachary in my life so I could find out every little detail, and he could do the same with me. Him being with me made me happy it made the pain lessen.
Him hugging me made every problem I had in that time, just dissipate. Poof. Gone.
But then he was letting go, and then me too, and we were back to looking at each other, in silence.
◇
Sorry this was a short one. It was all I could do. Plus I wanted to make the next part of this scene in Zach's POV!
But seriously...
Gosh...
Golly gee....
I'm sorry guys. I've been slacking.
I hope this part was good. I didn't do too much with it. It's mainly a filler chapter. The next part we'll see what Zach thinks and garbage.
Or whateva...
Again, I'm sorry. I honestly got busy and then writers block and then busy again and then mOrE wRiTeRs bLoCk I swear.
It made my want to shoot myself.
Again... but seriously. This wasn't my favorite chapter, and then next will be better, but here. I really do hope it was up to you guy's expectation. My writing style has changed these past few years a little so please bare with me here
But you, questions?
When will Andrew's mom wake up?
How should Andrew tell Zach - if he ever does - about the Corbett trouble?
Why did Zach visit Andrew so late? (I mean it's been week and he hasn't called (((: that's so weird!)
What do you think Zachary is going to be like in the next chapter?
As always LIKE and COMMENT and please dont be mad I was gone so long.
Sorry.
I didn't go to school for a while after I had finally just snapped. I didn't go to school because I couldn't remember half of what happened, and that scared the shit out of me.
I do, however, remember Zachary picking me up after I had calmed down, walking me to the nurse's office, but after that, I couldn't really remember a damn thing. My body had shut down seemingly to protect myself from, well, myself. I only remembered snippets here and there.
"What happened?" The nurse had asked, immediately jumping to her feet when she saw two boys entering her office, one supporting all the weight of the other on his shoulders to help him walk.
"He wasn't breathing," Zachary had started to say, but his voice was breathy and he couldn't quite get all his words out without jumbling them together, "and-and. . . I think he was about to pass out or-. . . Or he fell down and couldn't move, couldn't speak. . . I- um - I think he was having a panic attack." It was the first time, I think, that Zachary Rogers didn't know what to say or do. He had always been the one to have something on the tip of his tongue to say, and it was always clear, concise and maybe even a little Jackass-y. He was always the level headed one. It never occurred to me that Zachary would ever feel so... so helpless.
Even when he was telling me about his mom, and how he had lossed her, he never outwardly conveyed this downright life-crippling emotion to me.
And I think that's why I remembered that part so much.
Then my mind had left me there, trying to help me forget about whatever the hell was happening to me, about whatever the hell had happened to me. Although, I do remember the nurse talking to someone at her office door, and my dad's voice, after what seemed like only a few seconds, suddenly finding its way into my ears.
"Andrew?" He had called, but as soon as he saw me, he was kneeling over my bed while he stroked the hair out of my sweaty face. Behind him, there was a clock, and I remember seeing the hands pointing at almost eight-thirty in the morning. The clock now read almost eleven. I had been in that office for over two hours. It only felt like seconds.
After my dad had picked me up from school, he drove me home, leaving my car in the school parking lot, where it would stay for a long time.
Maybe it had been a week? Maybe more, but I hadn't been to school in a while. I stayed home, away from that Hell hole, away from my newfound problem, and away from all the shit that seemed so misplaced in my life.
I was completely and entirely alone. There was no one around me for once.
The only time I left the house was to visit Lola and mom at the hospital; but even then, however, I was still somewhat alone because Lola slept half the time, or had to go to therapy for the shit weaknesses she developed from the accident. And so when she went off, I would move to my mom's room - since Lola now stayed in the pediatrics part of the hospital - and I sat in life-ruining silence that was never really silent because of the constant beeping of her heart monitor and the thoughts that exploded in my mind, behind my ears, when I had realized I had been slacking on my duties as a son.
Shakily inhaling, I let the sterile air fill my lungs for a pause, before I slowly exhaled with so much sadness, the sadness that I couldn't quite contain anymore, and let my thoughts dissolve away as I sorrowfully watched my mom. My hand rested over her hand, which was discolored and nothing like it used to be, and I let my eyes heavily cast themselves over her still features.
"Mom... I'm sorry." I whispered, the words pain inducing because my throat was closing in on itself.
My life had been so fucked up recently, and yet I still couldn't fucking find time to be with my mom anymore. Isn't this what your father wanted, though?
Yes, but not me.
I had always wanted to, ever since the accident, be with my mom every step of the way and not leave her like I had that night when she obviously needed me. But it was like fate was pulling me away from her and into this whirlpool of constant questions and confusing trips down the lane of life. It was like I was being pulled in opposite directions, wanting to see my mom pulling me one way, and that whole Zachary Rogers mess pulling me the other way.
No, I shouldn't call the thing that was happening between me and Zachary a mess. It wasn't quite that because I somehow could meander my way through it; it was just confusing and so tiring.
Now, the thing with my mom was a fucking garbage pile. It was full of mountains of scars and regrets, and covered in this stench of constant fear and it made me tiptoe around it, not wanting to step in the wrong direction and knock over a pile that could crush me.
I just. . . I didn't know what to do anymore.
I had no idea what to think!
And now Corbett Connors was added to my plate of literal ass, and I wanted to shoot my brains out.
As my thoughts ran wild once more, I glanced away from my mom, the tears I was trying to hold in finding their way past my eyelids.
"I just don't know what to do, mom," I quietly sobbed, talking to both her and no one in particular, trying to get an answer to my problems.
A whimper slipped through my clenched teeth, then a sniffle, and turning my eyes back to her face only made it worse.
I didn't want to cry, but after having not cried for a while, I guess my body thought it was time. So I cried, but I only allowed few pained sounds through clenched jaws. I was near silent because I did not deserve the world hearing my pain. I did not deserve all the shit that was happening to me; yet I did because I still blamed myself for everything that had happened and was happening.
I thought I didn't blame myself for everything, but let's be honest: everything was my fault, wasn't it?
The accident - if I had just picked Lola up after practice instead of losing my temper and ending up having to run laps way past my actual leaving time, then maybe they would both be fine.
This weird relationship between Zach and I - we wouldn't even be in this situation if I had just pushed him away like I had intended, if I had just kept to myself.
Corbett Connors blackmailing me - I shouldn't have gone to that party.
I should have just kept to myself. I was good at it in the past, but not anymore. It seemed, though, that people were just better at snooping into other people's business than I was at trying to keep to myself.
But. . . Do I really regret my feelings for Zachary? My relationships with the people around me? No, I don't regret them. I just wished I had ended up here under different circumstances.
Suddenly, a knock sounded from the door, grabbing my attention away from my thoughts. I looked up, not caring that my eyes were bloodshot, and my voice shakey. My eyebrows rose and I brought the hand not holding my mother's up to wipe away any falling tears.
"Rogers."
Zachary's eyes flashed when I noticed his presence, and he shuffled into my mom's room, a nurse I faintly remembered him talking to homecoming night trailing behind him, but stopping just in the doorway.
He tentatively scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish look painted on his face before he mumbled, "Hi, Andy. . ." The way he used my name made me feel certain butterflies in my stomach and my brain released a plethora of endorphins that lessened the ache in my chest, but it had little effect behind the surprise I was feeling.
"What are you doing here?" I had asked him, standing up and going around my mom's bed to stand a few feet in front of him.
Zach pursed his lips, but he didn't miss a beat after I had asked him. He immediately answered with, "I was worried about you." It made my eyebrows raise to the ceiling.
"Really?"
"Yeah," he blinked, sighing slightly, "of course. You haven't been in school in over a week. Are. . . Are you alright?" When he asked me that, I turned my head to stare over at my mom. My eyes glossed over parts of her machine-hooked body and decided that, no, I wasn't alright.
But I didn't tell him that. I didn't say anything, really. I just looked back at him with this look of indifference, but God, I must really suck at holding in my emotions because all of the a sudden, Zachary had his arms wrapped around my in a bone crushing hug.
On instinct my body wanted to clench up and close in on itself, but I didn't let it. I forced myself to relish in the feel of his arms around me. I liked him hugging me. He seemed to give really good hugs, and I shouldn't be afraid of some hug. So I really did relish the feeling of being wrapped up in the warmth of his embrace. I even hugged him back. I let my hands slowly come up and around his shoulders and finally let them rest there, my fingers almost touching the hair at the nape of his neck. He smelt like cologne and chalk, and it made me want to start crying all over again because it was him.
It was all Zachary Rogers, a boy I had barely known a couple of months ago - but now knew a sizable amount about. It was just him. There. In that hospital room. Comforting me.
And I loved it.
I didn't want it to end; not the thing we had. I wanted us to stay like that forever: not quite knowing everything about each other, but knowing just enough that it makes you - it made me - want to know more, keep finding out little secrets, small things. It made me want to keep Zachary in my life so I could find out every little detail, and he could do the same with me. Him being with me made me happy it made the pain lessen.
Him hugging me made every problem I had in that time, just dissipate. Poof. Gone.
But then he was letting go, and then me too, and we were back to looking at each other, in silence.
◇
Sorry this was a short one. It was all I could do. Plus I wanted to make the next part of this scene in Zach's POV!
But seriously...
Gosh...
Golly gee....
I'm sorry guys. I've been slacking.
I hope this part was good. I didn't do too much with it. It's mainly a filler chapter. The next part we'll see what Zach thinks and garbage.
Or whateva...
Again, I'm sorry. I honestly got busy and then writers block and then busy again and then mOrE wRiTeRs bLoCk I swear.
It made my want to shoot myself.
Again... but seriously. This wasn't my favorite chapter, and then next will be better, but here. I really do hope it was up to you guy's expectation. My writing style has changed these past few years a little so please bare with me here
But you, questions?
When will Andrew's mom wake up?
How should Andrew tell Zach - if he ever does - about the Corbett trouble?
Why did Zach visit Andrew so late? (I mean it's been week and he hasn't called (((: that's so weird!)
What do you think Zachary is going to be like in the next chapter?
As always LIKE and COMMENT and please dont be mad I was gone so long.
Sorry.
End of Straight Boys Chapter 38. Continue reading Chapter 39 or return to Straight Boys book page.