---Patrick---

Driven to madness.

I think that's how I feel right now. I'm being driven to madness.

His hot breath leaves droplets of moisture on my cheek as I suck on his bottom lip, gazing down at the pink flesh. I don't know how long I'm taking in everything but I feel like I need to. I need to take in every last detail before it's gone. Before he has to leave because I know he will... His pleasured breaths and the way they warm my cheek. Just from that I already know this wasn't a mistake. He's panting slightly and it sounds like he's trying to hold back a moan... but I'm not sure. I do know that he isn't mad, which is good. His hands are on my lower back, pulling us close from a tight embrace. Another reason why this wasn't a mistake. Maybe he really does want this... He really does love me, maybe the text was real. The last one lifted my heart but I can't think about that now. I'm lost in the moment and I love it.

The disgustingly sexy sounds of my lips sucking on his gently... I don't know where all this bravery came from. Hell, if I was in this situation three weeks ago, I would have probably killed myself by now, fallen off of that building with no hesitation because I hated life and myself, text included or not. I mean I still do, but I don't hate life as much anymore. That was all before being gay was okay. That was before Kevin took my virginity. That was before I fell in love with Gerard. In only three weeks I'd found myself a crush who, somehow, returns the feelings and makes me completely forget about anxiety when I'm around him. How the fuck does he do it? How is he just so... Perfect?

My eyes dart up to his, gazing intensely into the dark pools of surprise and want. He lets out a tiny whimper and I giggle slightly into his lip, the corners of my mouth folding into a smile as they let go of the pink flesh. He pulls away but only kisses me again, his addictive taste on mine. It's slow, each kiss feels like an eternity but it's such a pleasure-filled eternity. Like heaven. His fingers drag up my back, sending shivers down my spine and making it arch into the touch.

He lets go but not quite. Instead, he bites on my bottom lip and gazes up at me. Immediate boner. I stifle a moan because fuck that is hot but finally pull away even though I don't want to. I don't want to be empty but we need to talk. We need to talk about... everything. He leans in again but I only shake my head and pull away even more, leaving him disappointed.

"Where were you?" He finally asks, understanding what I'm trying to do and leaning against the railing. I don't reply at first. I let my stomach drop first. That bad feeling you get when someone finds you out and the guilt takes you over begins to settle as the unanswered question rings through my mind. I hate it... I hate that feeling... It's the feeling I got when Pete asked what was wrong. It was the feeling I got when Dad showed up at the hospital with a hard gaze and asked, 'What happened?' and all I could reply with was, 'There was a car crash.' A week later, he hit me. A month later, he beat me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I shut my eyes, the city streets flashing through my mind. The way people would walk in long strides, the way my hair blew in the wind and my fedora fell to the ground. If I had waited just a split second longer, I would have fallen to my death. Down, down, down. And splat to the ground. I half wish that had happened but at the same time I don't. I'm conflicted just like I've been every single day since The Incident and I feel like I'm about to sob, "I'm sorry, I, I thought you hated me and I was so scared. I didn't want to see what you had to say. B-because I honestly thought it was impossible that you could ever love me when I don't even love myself."

He nears me again about to hug me but I shake my head. I'm too guilty and I honestly feel like I'm about to puke so I turn and lean over the railing incase anything does come up.

"Okay, so where were you then?" He asks, coming to my side.

I look down in shame, gripping the rail, "I..." I trail off. Do I really want to tell him? How would he react? Would he be mad? Would he hurt me?

"I won't be mad at me, please just tell me the truth, Sugar." He whispers, rubbing my back.

"I'm... I'm sorry... I..." I feel the tears rising, "I w-was..." I decide to just... Make it somewhat foggy, it's easier to say than just spitting out the truth, "I was at the top of a skyscraper..."

He squeezes my waist slightly and I can't stop the tears.

"What were you doing?"

I let out a shaky breath, I have to answer him but guilt it killing me, "I... I was..." He walks behind me, rubbing my shoulders as I continue to sob over the edge of the bridge.

"Did you overdose?" He asks, sudden worry filling his voice. I don't blame him.

"No, no," I quickly reply when I get a break from my loss of breath. I take a deep breath making sure I don't gag again... I shut my eyes, his hands still rubbing circles into my shoulders, "I was... gonna jump..." I whisper. There's complete silence and it kills me. Just his shaky breathing and mine and I wish I could just die in that moment. We stay completely still for God knows how long and until I can't take it anymore. I begin to pull away. It's over. He hates me. He thinks I'm an idiot. An attention whore but he grabs my wrist and pulls me back, pressing me against his chest. I look straight down in shame but soon after, I can feel his lips on my forehead. I blush slightly.

"You mean so much more than that, Patrick." He whispers, "I love you. You are perfect in every fucking way. You should never, ever feel that way because you're special to me. You always have been and you always will be. I love you so, so much. Never leave me, please."

"I won't," I whisper, feeling him wrap his hands around my waist, "I think I love you, too."

We stand for a moment, just listening to each other's breaths until the negative emotion fades away and Gerard chimes in on a lighter note, "I wanna kiss you."

"We just admitted our love for each other you know..." I mumble in embarrassment before he presses our lips together again.

"Well, quite honestly, I've been wanting to do this to you for a while. And I wish you would have admitted it sooner..." He pauses before adding, "Why didn't you jump?" I can't help but wonder why he isn't mad. Then again, this is Gerard. He's really unpredictable.

I ponder the question for a moment and reply, "I couldn't, I was close, but I couldn't, I was too scared..." I reply, trying to make him understand, "it's hard to explain, I was just... Scared."

He runs his fingers down my jawline, forcing my head to look to his and the tears come harder than before as I see his beautiful face, blurry through my sadness. His breathing is shaky and I see a tear drip down his chin. Why is he crying? Oh no, I hate seeing him cry. It's my fault, too, isn't it?

"Promise not to do it again...? Please?" He asks, basically begging. There's so much sorrow and fear in his voice. Does he mean it? All that troubled emotion? Does he really love me? It can't be true...

"I promise..." I whisper. And I mean it.

"How strong are your promises?"

"I have yet to break one." I smile.

He pulls me in again, burying his face with a grin and it makes me giggle. Giggle.

"So, Patrick," he says, pulling away. He giggles slightly himself, changing the mood, and presses his forehead to mine. I begin feeling really giddy and I smile myself. God I love him...

"So, um... I guess I should probably ask," He pauses, "W-Will you be my boyfriend?"

I smile, squeezing him close, "Of course," I reply. He kisses me again, hard and passionate. I immediately kiss back, not as passionately, though... I don't have a lot of practice with kissing.

"I have one more question." He pulls out of my grasp and walks to the other side of the bridge to pick up his sketchbook. I watch as he flips through the pages, swallowing nervously, before looking across a certain page for a moment. He looks up at me, turning the paper and I can immediately see the drawing.

There's a heart, very detailed and colored a dark gray with his pencil, shaded perfectly. It's big and, honestly, beautiful just like its owner. Beside it is a word. And my heart practically bursts out of my chest as I read his perfect handwriting, tall and skinny.

Homecoming?

***

"If they bother you at all, be sure to call me, alright?" Gerard asks, his mouth close to my ear and his hands squeezing my sides. The sun is setting behind him, right in my eyes but I don't mind. It's beautiful. Just like my... My new boyfriend. Oh god, I love him so much.

I look up to his warm eyes, the color of dark oak. I'm tempted to tell him about what Kevin did... To tell him that I'm not a virgin anymore... To tell him how violated I felt... But on second thought I don't want him to worry and I can barely think about it without going into a state of mind where I feel dead, numb. So, that's not a good idea, "Okay, okay," I plaster a fake smile on my face and he only lets out a worried sigh.

"I love you, Patrick..." He whispers, taking my hands in his and gazing down at our intertwined fingers.

"I-I love you, too, Gee..." I reply, pressing my forehead to his. I bite my lip before kissing him softly. The taste of sugar and coffee on his lips, and soon after onto mine.

"Text me, alright, Sugar?" He asks.

I nod, "Goodnight for now,"

"You, too." He replies, kissing me on the cheek and making me blush a dim red. He turns away, his fingers leaving mine cold and empty. His hands in his pockets with his head down as he walks away and I can't help but admire how beautiful he is in the night sky. A black canvas littered with soft white specks and the moon, high in the sky. The air is cool, crisp. It smells like rain even though the last rain was three nights ago. It's a nice smell but it's being overtaken by the taste of sugar and coffee on my lips. That beautiful, beautiful taste.

I grip the hand railing leading up the steps as I get lost in my thoughts. It's beginning to rot because it's become so old over the years but I don't focus on it because I can only focus on the beauty walking into the distance. The artist with black hair and brown eyes. The boy who draws Black Parades and boys with badges. That wonderful boy who I love with all my heart. The boy who I kissed on the bridge, the boy who held me close as we laid under the half-moon by the mausoleum. That boy who makes all my anxiety leave. The boy with a bad past but oh god, I come to a realization and I shut my eyes as I process it.

Gerard is mine now. Mine to love. Mine to hug. Mine to kiss. Mine to... make love to...

But the more I think of it. It seems a little scary if we ever get to that... I don't want to sleep with him but... I don't want to disappoint him. I'd be lying if I didn't say I want him but I'm scared he'll turn out like Kevin. He doesn't have my consent yet but what if he just rapes me? I'd give him full control of my body and I don't know if I can trust him.

On second thought, we've only been dating for... an hour. It's a bit too early to be thinking about that. Maybe six months or more before I should even begin to consider letting him take me. Maybe a bit less, too. I smile to myself as he turns the corner and through the bright moon, I can see a warm smile on his face. My heart melts.

I look back up at the door. Time to face my fear... Unless... Gerard would let me stay with him...

No. Stop he would never let you stay at his house.

I guess you're right, huh?

I walk up the creaky steps, my hand rests on the doorknob.

I shut my eyes.

One, two, three

My eyes open. Dad is laying on the couch watching TV, Kevin is nowhere to be seen, I'm guessing he's in his room either sleeping or jacking off, and Megan is in the kitchen making dinner. It's probably the most peaceful I've seen the house yet.

"Good evening, Patrick!" Megan calls, I can hear her grabbing something from the fridge, the rattling of the bottles in the door give her away. I nod to her as I shut the front door behind myself and turn to Dad, taking in the scene. He has an empty bottle of beer in hand and a lit white and orange cigarette in the other. His once young face looks wrinkly and tired. Smoking's really taken its toll on him and it hurts. He used to be so young and so... in love... What happened?

You happened.

I happened.

"Where were you?" He asks, looking over at me with dark green eyes and I'm not going to lie, it's a little intimidating.

"I don't know." I reply with a shrug. He glares.

"Where were you?" He asks again, a little harder.

I swallow, "I just skipped school, no big deal."

He rises to his feet, my heart drops, my stomach flips. I'm terrified because I know what happens next. It always happens and I deserve it. I deserve every bruise and cut he inflicts on me.

"Where. Were. You?" He growls as he nears me. I back up against the wall, tears of fear crowding my eyes.

"I just went for a walk downtown. That's it," I cry, trying to stifle my tears. He slams the glass into the wall, it shatters and I can already tell there's going to be a crack there for a long while.

"Who were you with?" He demands.

I bite my lip feeling tears stream down my cheeks. He huffs slamming me against the wall, "You're fucking weak."

"I'm sorry," I whimper. Next thing I know, he slaps me, hard and I feel fire in my cheek. It burns and begs for a relief, any kind of relief that I can't give. So instead, I shut my eyes and bite away the pain.

"Go," He growls pointing to my room. Relief fills me and I take the first chance I get to scramble away and run to my room, my space where I can let out my emotion, my space where scars form. The place where I turn my music up and tune out the world. My safe haven, tainted by the occasional visit of Kevin.

Tears are still in my eyes as I slam the door shut. I hate it. I hate it here. I hate everything. I just want Gerard and Megan and my old friends. I want my old life back. I want Dad to stop drinking, I want Kevin to stop following in his footsteps, I want Megan to be happy again, I want Ryan and Frank back, I want to hang out at Joe and Brendon and Pete's houses, I want Mom to come back. I want so much but I can't have it... I've never been able to have it... And I only have three ways to numb the pain.

Gerard. But he's not here. I won't be able to see him until tomorrow but that's too long and even if he could somehow come over, he would call the cops on Dad and Kevin. I can't let that happen. I deserve what they do to me and I shouldn't try to escape it.

Music. I could use music now, Billie's or Mark's or Kurt's voices. The bass pushing the blood through my veins. The guitar guiding my breaths. The drums beating my heart as I shut my eyes and try not to cry but I'm craving something different...

The razor blade. Nobody's told me to stop. So why should I?

I look to my door, making sure it's locked. It is. The button on the knob pressed in. Adrenaline is pulsing through me as my eyes dart to the crack in the wall and a look of want crosses my face. I drop to my knees, like I would if Kevin was here. He's not, instead I reach in and pull it out. The sharp razor. I need this now. I need to feel the pain. I need to be brought back to reality. Now.

Bzzt.

I need it... But Gerard is first priority.

Gerard: Hey sugar

I shut my eyes as I take a deep breath, gripping the razor. But as I exhale, I hear it drop to the ground beside me.

Patrick: Can you talk later?

Shit he's going to be suspicious. Please just trust me...

Gerard: Yeah, whats happening?

Quick Patrick, just make up an excuse

Patrick: Have to make dinner

Gerard: Alright, see you <3

I smile to myself. He put a heart. A heart. That's cute.

Patrick: You too <3

I pull out my earbuds from my pocket and surprisingly, they're not a tangled mess like usual. I plug one into the phone and place the buds into my ears before picking up the razor blade again and hearing lyrics to songs I've heard a thousand times.

"I never thought I'd die alone
I laughed the loudest, who'd've known?
I traced the cord back to the wall
No wonder it was never plugged in at all,"

I position it about in about the middle of my wrist and my elbow, trying to avoid some of the other scars which is fairly difficult, considering my arms are basically a mess of them. The blade slides across my arm anyways and I can't help but notice that usually I'd go down, elbow to wrist, but I'm finding it harder to do. I don't want to die anymore and I know going straight up and down would definitely increase my chances of hitting a major artery. Is it Gerard? Or it just common sense that's kicked in? I can never be sure but I know I'm making some progress on getting better. I was on the edge three weeks ago I had wanted to die, I mean that was when I first began having the thoughts but, he changed that. He changed everything about that... I live for Gerard. I love Gerard.

Bzzt

I look down, taken from my suicidal, depressed thoughts. Thoughts that people think I should have a counselor for. Thoughts that I probably should have a counselor for but... We're low on money. Even if we had enough money, Dad would never let me. He knows what I would tell them.

Dark, dark red blood is rising to the fresh cuts but they haven't flooded over. Yet. I can't stop myself from staring for a moment. Taking in the weight of what I just did. I love it. I love it but I hate it. And I don't understand why I hate it. Nobody has told me to stop so why do I feel so guilty? I know Gerard probably doesn't want me hurting myself but he hasn't done anything to stop me. So why stop?

I pick up my phone and look at the text. I'm done with those thoughts.

Gerard: I need to talk to you when you get a chance... About... Um... A few different things... Anyways, text me. Love you.

What does he want to talk to me about? I don't know... I should probably finish this before I start on anything else tonight... I don't want to make too much of a mess and have Megan worry so I get up from my place on the floor. Right beside my bed. I open my door, the knob is cold. Cold...

I don't know what happens. I don't understand why it happens. I don't know how to stop it but the next thing I know, I'm in the hospital.

***

"David Stumph?" A doctor calls from the doors. I immediately shoot up, out of my seat ignoring my arm's protests. I need to go with Dad. Is she okay? Did she survive? Oh please, please, please. Anything.

Dad walks to the doctor but when I try to follow, he only gives a sad smile and leans down, "This is just a private conversation."

"No, I need to know. What happened? Is she alright?" I ask, a little harshly.

The doctor, Dr. Eccelston, I think is his name only shakes his head and looks up to Dad for help.

"Go sit with Kevin," He says, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I look to the other boy with blonde hair, my brother, who's staring right back but only shake my head as I look back up at Dad, "It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay, I promise."

I pull away from his hand, but still return to my seat. Except, I don't sit down. I'm pacing back and forth. I can't stop but it helps a little bit. I'm honestly scared. I thought I lost hope earlier but I know there has to be a chance, no matter how astronomically small it is, there's a chance. And maybe God will be nice and give me the opportunity to get her back.

Maybe she will survive and maybe I just didn't check her pulse right. Maybe I really did start her heart I just didn't feel it. And her breathing. Maybe... Maybe I just couldn't feel it. That's right. It's gotta be. How else would she survive? She has to survive, there's no way she could ever die. She's my mom. She's never been hurt in her life and I believe she might have a chance.

"Sit down, Patrick," Kevin snaps, taking me from my rapid thoughts, but he immediately backs off, "I mean... I don't know it's just stressing me out more."

I nod slightly, sitting down but jiggling my foot up and down. I'm nervous. No. Nervous isn't a good word. Nervous is for when you have a class presentation and you're scared of presenting. Nervous is like a first date. You don't know what to expect. I'm... Restless. I can't stop worrying but I know it's going to turn out good. She'll live with injuries but she's going to end up alright. At the same time I can't stay still for more than two seconds before fiddling with my thumbs or getting up and pacing even more but it's better than her being confirmed... Gone...

As I wait, I can't help but wonder what's taking Dad and Dr. Eccelston so long. Maybe she's alright and he's just gone in to talk to her. Maybe he's just really happy. There's no way she could die. If she did... It would be my fault...

I can't think about that. It'll be fine. Everything is going to be fine. It's going to be okay. I don't have to worry about anything because she's going to live.

I pull my knees up to my chest, it has to be okay. I feel my throat close up as tears reach my eyes, she can't die. I begin sobbing into my knees, it can't be my fault.

"Patrick, Kevin," Dad says. I didn't even realize he'd come into the waiting room again. There are tears in his eyes and he's trying to hold back. He's trying to be strong.

No, Patrick. Those are tears of joy. Right?

"What happened? Is she okay?" Kevin immediately asks, a thousand emotions in his voice. Depression, sadness, uneasiness, fear, anger, hate. He sounds like he's holding back a scream. The same scream I made at the crash. That same scream of agony and fear and emotions with that same fiery hate.

"I..." He has to choose his words carefully. My hope is fading, "She's..."

Alive? Alright? Injured but going to live?

"Gone,"

Kevin is gone in a flash, sprinting through the doors and running through the halls.

Dad chases after him but I can only sit in silence and take in those words.

Those kinds of jokes aren't funny, Dad.

I can't stop myself. I need to see so I follow Kevin but not quite, I walk through the halls. I remember Dad repeating the room number to Dr. Eccelston several times... Room 511.

Kevin's already passed it, I can see the room and neither of them are there although I can hear them yelling down the hall.

"Where is she! Where is she! She can't be dead!"

"Kevin, calm down she's gone, we can't do anything."

"It's all Patrick's fault. All of it. If he wasn't such a fucking idiot this wouldn't have happened. I hate him. I hate you. It's your fault, too."

I don't listen anymore. Instead I walk into her room.

She looks peaceful, lying there. Like an angel. That's how it should have ended. Peacefully in her sleep, with no pain, without a worry. It's all my fault that she's gone. I look to the clock: 12:52. We've been here for an hour, it took an hour for the ambulance to show up, ten minutes to gather myself. Something like that...

Her blond hair sways in the soft breeze glowing through the window. It's long and reaches just under chest in straight locks that curl just slightly at the ends. Her lips are separated slightly, she would be breathing through them if it wasn't for me and if I had only told her to stop, it would have turned out so much better. If it weren't for me, she would be smiling and breathing. If it weren't for me, she wouldn't be dead.

I killed her.

My hand reaches out. Holding her ice cold hand. Cold and blue. And I can't warm her up. It'll never heat up again until she's in the furnace, turning to ash.

Cold like the knob on my door.

***

I blink.

The house is silent. Completely silent. Too silent. What happened? I'm on the floor. When did I get on the floor? Did I fall?

Through my windows, I can see the darkness of the evening. The clock by my bed reads: 8:52. I was out for maybe an hour because of those stupid flashbacks. I hate them. They make one second feel like an hour and an hour to feel like a year. I hate when I have to go through it all again like a nightmare I can't escape. It is a nightmare I can't escape. I hate waking up. I hate that odd feeling when I look around and realize I just lost an hour of my life. An hour I can never get back. An hour wasted to the depth of my mind. That dark abyss.

I look to my arm. There's dried blood on the cut but it's mostly healed. At least it won't bleed for a while. It's stopped.

Then, I feel a weight being pressed on my shoulders. I feel exhausted. So exhausted but I need to... I need to talk to Gerard...

I need to...

I...

***

"Hey," Gerard smiles as he sits beside me. His dark hair kissed by the morning sunlight and his brown eyes look brighter than usual.

He's beautiful.

"Hi," I reply, feeling a slight fire rise to my cheeks in a dark red ember.

"Did you get my text last night?" He asks. He's keeping his hands to himself and I honestly wish he didn't... I like it when he touches me I mean not in a bad way. Like soft touches on shoulders, when his hands rest on my thigh, the way he cups my cheek when he leans in to kiss me.

"No, I fell asleep, sorry," I reply. I'm beginning to feel guilty... I'm not sure why... I mean he can't know everything... He's leave me for sure and I'm honestly scared. I don't want him to leave. I love him. He loves me.

He looks at me with a worried face, "Did you really? Just fall asleep?"

He's catching on. He's catching on fast. No, no, no.

Don't tell him.

I need to. He's asking.

Patrick. Don't.

"No..." I reply. My voice isn't shaky. They're just flashbacks... Just tiny little flashbacks that exhaust me and make me want to die. Flashbacks that bring back the worst of memories.

"What happened? Did he beat you?" He asks, his hand finally reaching for my knee and I can't help but lean up against him. My head on his shoulder.

"Kind of... I mean... He slapped me and sent me to my room... B-but I had a flashback..." I reply, "Th-they happen sometimes and random things will trigger them and I don't know how to make them go away..."

"You have PTSD?" He murmurs gently.

"PTSD?" I copy. The hell is that?

"It's..." He trails off but eventually starts up again, "Dad had it, too. Because he was in the army for so long. It's... A condition I guess... You have flashbacks and nightmares about something tragic that happened in your past..."

I bite my lip. First Mom dies, Dad and Kevin beat me, I get anxiety, a fucking eating disorder and now some kind of fucking condition that gives me flashbacks? What the hell has my life come to? A maze of conditions and health issues? For fuck's sake could I have a fucking break please?

"Are you alright?" He asks, "I'm sorry... If you don't want to talk about it..."

I shake my head slightly, "Maybe in a while I just... We've only been dating for what-a day?-and I'm trusting you with more than I've trusted Megan with. I want to... Take this slower... I mean... Sorry..."

"Don't say sorry, we'll take this as slow as you want, okay?" He says, "I know it hurts so I'll give you all the time in the world..."

I smile slightly, blushing in the warm autumn light.

"You're cute when you blush."

"So you've told me."

"It's true," he replies, pecking me on the cheek and making me blush even more.

"Staaaap!" I say, over-exaggerating the 'ah' so he knows I'm not serious. I like it. I love it. I love him.

He kisses me again on the cheek but this time he doesn't stop. He keeps pecking my cheek and I can feel him moving but I don't know what he's doing until he's straddling my lap, still pecking my cheek but he eventually stops to look into my eyes. I feel heat rush faster than ever before to my cheeks because holy shit so many things are happening and it's hard to process.

I've never been this close to Gerard before. His legs on either side of my hips. His crotch pressed up against mine. I actually have to run my mind over that thought a few times before it starts to sink in.

Gerard Way's crotch is pressed up against mine. Gerard. Fucking. Way. That hottie I met in art. He's fucking straddling me by a bus stop right now.

Holy shit.

I swear to god if my blood starts heading south...

"I hope this is okay," He says, blushing slightly himself and taking me out of my dirty, dirty thoughts.

"I... It's okay..." I whisper, I can barely talk. He's driving me crazy and if I wasn't so fucking scared of having a dick up my ass, I would have brought him home and let him fuck me into the bed.

Shit. That's hot.

But honestly I'm not sure how to feel about this... He could grind into me any moment, but he has advantage of me like this. He could hurt me if he wanted and I can't run away. He could slap me. Hit me. Choke me.

He wraps his arms around my neck, they're warm but that's not what I'm focused on. I'm focused on calming the fuck down because I just flinched. I flinched. I'm pathetic. I can't even take my boyfriend straddling my lap without being scared.

What is wrong with you?

"Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?" He asks, beginning to pull back.

"N-no," I quickly reply holding his arms in place.

No? It's either you have a panic attack now or completely avoid it. Why the hell do you want him to stay?

"Just... Give me a moment..." I whisper, gripping his hips gently after some hesitation.

He strokes my cheek as I take a few deep breaths and shut my eyes. It's comforting and scary. I hate it but I love it. I'm scared but I'm happy.

"I love you, you know I'd never hurt you, right?" He asks. I nod emptily, biting my lip but I still find myself relaxing slightly as he continues to stroke my cheek.

I can hear the squeaking of the bus in the distance as it makes its way downtown and forces Gerard off of my lap. We know we could easily be insulted for being caught in that position and I don't need any more bullying than I already have. As he leaves, I feel relieved. He can't hurt me anymore. Even though I don't think he would, it's better safe than sorry. I never thought Dad would... Until he did...

At the same time, though, I feel empty. I want him there. I want it and I shouldn't because I know he'll take advantage of me. He'll start touching me like Kevin does without consent. It takes a moment to process his lips on my cheek, a quick peck but it's enough to keep me going. He helps me up off of the ground and pulls my hoodie down over my crotch, his lips getting near my ear as he whispers four words that make my face go strawberry red and my mouth to become extremely dry.

But god I love those words.

"Sorry about the bulge."