Straight Boys - Chapter 39: Chapter 39

Zachary's POV
Maybe I'm a fool...
Maybe I'm a fool for you.
The song that I had had stuck in my head for some time blared from the speakers of my car as I sat parked in the hospital parking lot; my hands gripping my knees in anxiety and my eyes fixated on the entrance to the hospital as if I was on a stake out, a mission.
Perhaps I was.
I was on a mission to see Andrew Parsley, of course.
I got to thinking while Andrew seemed to be on this hiatus, and I thought for a really long time. I thought about a lot of things, most things questions, other things irrelevant.
Is he alright?
How long is he going to be gone?
Should I go see him?
Will he want to see me?
Is he okay?
I thought about whether Andrew would want to see the biggest joke on this planet, whether he would want to talk with me; and after I thought about it, I came to this startling conclusion: I couldn't lose Andrew Parsley as easily as I thought I could.
Before all of this, before most everything - when him and I were just starting and things were good - I could have let him go out of selfishness, but now, now I wanted to keep him for the exact same reason. After seeing him more broken than I have ever seen him before, him crumpled up on the floor of that hallway, unable to breathe and this far away look in his eyes, I only found one thing I wanted to do poking at my brain. I wanted to protect him. I wanted to be there for him, be with him. I wanted him, and I dont think I could let go of that no matter how hard I tried.
I knew subconsciously that I would always go back to Andrew, no matter how hard I tried to keep my distance. I would always want to go back.
You know what I'd do for you. . .
I know what you'd do for me. . .
I clenched my jaw and looked down at the radio, listening to the lyrics of the stupid song and wondering how my life had turned out this way.
My life had been full of twists and turns since I was in junior high, there was no doubt about it. First the thing with summer camp and Owen, then my mom, and then the big move and the whole rebuilding myself from scratch. All that utter garbage, and then some, has really messed with my head, and this situation I was in, this thing I had with Andrew, it was both a blessing and curse in disguise.
He was fixing me, yet breaking me at the same time; and I had a feeling I was doing the same to him, but ten times worse.
The thing is, I was a natural born runner. I had always run away from everything.
My feelings.
My past.
My problems.
My future.
But, as the last few chords of that song sifted through the speakers, I had this urge to suddenly change. I had been thinking about it since our last kiss, Andrew and I's, and the whole thing with him breaking down and not going to school only further pushed me towards this change. I wanted to help him, but I also maybe wanted to help myself, too.
So, shutting the car off, I grabbed my beat up blue hoodie and started towards the hospital entrance. I made my way up to the ICU where I figured Andrew would be, but on my way there, I ran into my favorite nurse.
"Zachary, sweetheart, what are you doing here?" Marie Baker asked me this, but she had this glint in her eyes, this knowing glint.
"Hey, Marie." I halfheartedly smiled down at her, lazily crossing my arms over each other. I surveyed Marie, taking note of her tired eyes and wrinkling arms, but also this familiar scent that wafted off of her in comforting waves. She smelled like home.
"Lookin' for Andrew?" She kindly asked, and I kindly nodded, well more sheepishly than anything; and then she was walking, and I was walking behind her. She went down the same corridor as last time, and soon, I was in front of her, my strides longer, faster because I knew where I was going, and I was just so ready to see the kid.
I'm ready.
It's like the saying goes; absence makes the heart grow fonder; and I think, after I had stepped up to the half-closed door to the familiar room, I had realized instantly that I was really fond of Andrew Parsley. I was willing to do anything for him. Well and truly. I had used that week of almost isolation to think, like really think, and I finally came to that conclusion standing there, just about to see him after being apart for such a seemingly long time.
I'm so deep, now, that I'm diving head over heels to my own destruction, yet I don't even care. I'm ready.
Marie Baker suddenly put her warm and comforting hand on my shoulder, causing me to turn my head to look over at her. Her thumb swiped over the hood of my jacket, straightening it, and I could feel her understanding through that motion. I looked into her eyes, and I could see her understanding. If I had to say that anybody knew me better than my own mother, it would be Marie. She was there. She knew things. She knew me.
Past memories came hitting me head on all of the a sudden as I nervously looked at Marie.
Walking in on my mom telling Marie about Michigan, about why we moved.
Crying my fourteen-year-old eyes out on Marie's shoulder when my mom died.
Coming to Marie when I got into trouble instead of my own dad.
Telling Marie that I didn't want to be the boy she knew.
Telling Marie that there was a part of me that my mom never told her, a part that I never wanted to live again.
All these memories came back, so I quickly looked away from her familiar eyes and back at the cream colored door of Andrew's family. Marie still held onto me, but then she whispered soothingly into my ear words I didn't believe, "You got this."
You're ready, you idiot. Forget the past. This is the now.
Sighing out, I sucked up any last doubts that were sucking at the sides of my brain, grew a pair, and knocked against the door. I didn't wait for a reply and just opened the door, but I probably should have since I didn't know who would have been on the other side - Andrew or his dad - but when I caught sight of Andrew's messy hair and hunched shoulders, all my worries instantly vanished. I saw him, it was like something clicked.
Everytime I saw him, something clicked, but this was it. This was the push towards that resolution in my mind, especially when I saw his tear streaked face and surprised eyes as he murmured out my last name. I was finally making my mind up.
Andrew clumsily stood to his feet when he saw me making my way in. He stood frozen, so it made me nervous, causing me to stop where I landed. To be honest, I didn't really know what to do once I saw him. I only ended up scratching the back of my neck stressfully, my eyes glancing away involuntarily from embarrassment and maybe even a little shame.
Why are you coming to see me after over a week? You should have been here the same day I left school. I imagined him yelling those words at me, even cursing at me, but he said nothing. He only just barely looked at me with curiosity. His eyes mainly held reluctance and surprise.
"Hi, Andy. . ." I looked back towards him. His presence was making my lungs ache from my lack of breathing, and I found that funny, but I kept my smile to myself. He made me happy about stupid things, but I wasn't there to make myself happy.
It's funny how people just end up doing that to themselves.
But no, this wasn't about me, no matter how much former me wanted to try to make it. This was the new me, the me that wanted to change for Andrew. This was the new me, the me that wanted to not be such a dickhead and class clown wherever he went.
"What are you doing here?" Andrew had finally decided to ask me after this brief moment of tense silence. He stood up a little straighter and walked around his mom's bed - who I only just horribly noticed because I really was a terrible person sometimes - to stand a few feet in front of me.
I pursed my lips when he stopped so far away, not yet close enough to me because I wanted to be able to tell him through my actions. I wanted to tell him through the only way I knew how in serious situations like the one we were stuck in; but it was good to practice for the future. So, without missing a single second, I immediately told him the truth: what I was really thinking and not some joke. "I was worried about you." It made his eyebrows touch his hairline.
"Really?" He doubtfully asked. His doubt made me sad. I was the cause for that doubt. I didn't want to raise any doubts in Andrew's mind anymore. Not after what had happened between us. I really just wanted to be there for him.
You want to kiss him again.
"Yeah," I blinked, sighing slightly at my own thoughts during such a time, but then kept going, "of course. You haven't been in school in over a week. Are. . . Are you alright?" But looking at Andrew for a little longer, even I was starting to have doubts.
I was always good at contradicting myself, too, it seemed.
But after I had asked him if he was okay, and he turned his head to stare over at his mom, again, those doubts disappeared. It was like I never doubted him or myself in the first place after he looked back into my eyes and I saw the pain and suffering of not having his mom around like she used to be. I saw his sorrow, and his regret, and this surge of trying to look indifferent but hey, you're not fooling anyone, and the silent defeat he was starting to feel. I saw his tiredness and exhaustion, and I saw how desperate he wanted his mother, all in just his eyes. He tried hiding that look, but I saw it. I saw him, and it reassured me of my decision.
It made me fill that ginormous gap between us, that physical and mental barrier that I had created out of fear, and bundle Andrew up in my arms in the best bear hug I could manage. And I don't mean to brag, but bear hugs were my specialty, my area of expertise besides cooking.
Andrew's body tensed up underneath mine, and I was expecting him to push me away, so I tightened my hold, but he ended up not taking that step back. He didn't leave me when I had finally decided to embrace him. He even hugged me back! His hands slowly come up and around my shoulders almost shyly, and finally he let them rest there, his fingers splayed over the tops of my hoodie. He was shaking, and I don't know if he noticed he was doing it, so I curled my arms even tighter around his body. I fisted my fingers in the cotton of his own jacket, and I bent my head to rest lightly in the crook of his neck, his head doing the same to me. And I was glad I had made my mind up because I really was falling. I was past the point, actually.
I don't think I ever felt anything like the things I was feeling in that moment, well ever.
And I had been feeling this way for a while now. I think it started back when  this whole thing between us had just begun. I think, back then, I thought it was empathy and understanding - it could have been mainly that because finally, finally someone who was going through a similar thing that I had been going through years ago - but a person doesn't want to hold onto a new friend like they've known them their whole life like the way I did. A boy wouldn't try to grasp another boy like I did because they were new friends and he could do that.
Had I started to like Andrew the moment I started realizing he wasn't some kid I could drag around in the dirt because he did the same to me sometimes?
When I started to really see Andrew, my emotions were already taking over.
That little realization made my heart skip a beat, more so than the sudden realization of actually liking him did.
So, with those thoughts on my mind, I let go of the boy in my arms, to my own dismay, and held him at arms length away, never actually, physically letting him go. I kept my fingers tightly over his tough shoulders and my eyes settled in his eyes. I could see the suspicion and surprise gone now, and in their place, comfort and maybe even something a little more. It made me want to laugh from giddiness, but again, I didn't. I only just decided to say what I was thinking.
"You are not okay, so don't try to lie to me like you were about to." Andrew nervously bit the top of his lip and looked up like he was searching his own thoughts to see what he could really say.
"Yeah," he finally settled on saying, "you're right. I'm not fine. I'm so fucking far from fine that I want to kill myself. I want to switch places with her, man, and I want her to be able to tell me that it's not my fault, and Happy Birthday to Lola for me, and I want her to be able to see dad, and tell him he doesn't need to worry anymore, that she's alright and that we're going to all be fine. I want her to tell me that it'll be fine like she used to. I just want to tell her I love her one more time because, Zachary, christ Zachary, nobody knows. Not the doctors, not my dad, not me. We don't know if she'll be fine and that fucking scares me to death. I want to die. Nothing is fine!"
I let Andrew get it all out. I let him tell me everything he had been holding in, and he let himself cry in front of me. He stepped out of my hold and paced at the foot of his mother's bed; and he pulled at his hair, threw his arms up, and became so emotional. I gave him that. I couldn't give him much else because I knew he was right.
I knew there was nothing else I could say, so didn't say a single word.
When he calmed down, when he finally slumped into the chair he was sitting in before I had come there, then did I say anything. I tiptoed over to him and stood next to him, and I placed my hand hesitantly on top of his head, letting my fingers tangle themselves in the strands, and I told him that it was okay. It was trash, and it felt like I was lying, but what else could I have said? I didn't want to lie to him because back then, I didn't want anyone lying to me when my mother was in the state she had been in before she died. So I told him only that and kept my hand in his hair like I was blocking anymore bad thoughts from entering his head.
I didn't know how to tell him anything else, so I just opted for showing him. I showed him that I wasn't going anywhere; that I was staying. He and I were staying, and that's all I hoped he needed to feel even the tiniest bit, a sliver or a trace of comfort and happiness.
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Oh fuck. Whoops.
Okay so, actually, I lied. This book is actually almost done. It has like at most ten more chapters. Wowza. :")
I hoped you liked this chapter in Zach's POV. It's been a while - well in my time, not some you reader's time - since I last wrote him, so it might be a little different. I hope not too different. Nonetheless, now you know what Zachary is really thinking about their relationship. To be honest, that bastard was going to revert back to kind of avoiding, but then Andrew had his mental breakdown and it made him realize that he needs to get his shit together.
tHe MoRe YoU kNoW. . .
Anyway, questions you guys have? I'll answer them here!
And you know the drill:
What do you think Zachary will do now that he's finally decided to take shit seriously?
What will happen next chapter when they actually go back to school?
What do you think Corbett has in store?
By the end of this, who do you think will get Andrew? Corbett or Zachary?
As always, this shit's not edited. Sorry not sorry I have a whole book I want to read rn so I'm busy! Jk jk jk. I'm actually a fucking bum.
Anyway, please LIKE and COMMENT and FORGIVE ME for being a terrible updater. I least I'm not letting go of the story. At least I'm trying to finish it with the best I have to give to you lovelies. So please PLEASE stay with me till the end. You WONT REGRET IT. I swear to you.
Thank you again :"")