i'll fake god today

chapter six

steve called and told him not to bother coming into work tomorrow. that's four days now. he was okay with that though, because the next day rolled around and he couldn't get out of bed. he pretended to be asleep when pony got out of bed and was grabbing fresh clothes. today was going to suck.

his hand was shaking a lot. he stared at it blankly as he laid in bed, unable to move. tremors, or something like that. it was probably alright.

he couldn't see the cuts on his arms, he wore a hoodie to bed last night. he wishes he could stare at them more, run his fingers over them, maybe scratch at the healing wounds a little, but he couldn't risk someone walking in and seeing them.

he thinks the cuts were awfully pretty. people called him pretty all the time.

people were drawn to him, attracted to him, they called him beautiful and gorgeous and told him he was a doll. he wasn't. his body was disgusting. he was gross. if they knew how he really was they wouldn't want to be with him.

it didn't feel like he spent the entire day in bed. he was just staring at the wall for a couple minutes and now the house was getting loud. it was getting dark in the room. it was evening. he had to get up.

his body ached as he forced himself to sit up. everyone was staring at him when he came out. it was dead silent. he felt dumb just standing there staring back, but he didn't know what else to do. they were freaking him out.

after a couple minutes, soda couldn't take the silence, "what?"

"you're wearing pony's hoodie." two-bit said.

soda looked down. he didn't realize how small the hoodie was on him. it was a little tight. "oh. right. i knew that." he pulled the hoodie down further on him, in case it was trying to ride up. he still had cuts on his stomach and he wasn't about to let the gang see them.

soda forced himself to walk into the kitchen. he knew darry had followed him while everyone else had stayed in the living room. he had heard things go back to normal in there, but he knew darry was bothering him more lately.

"soda, are you feeling alright?" darry had been asking that a lot lately.

soda stared at the counter, running a hand through his hair, "'course i am."

"two-bit said you didn't leave your room all day. is that true?"

he didn't know two-bit had been there. fuck, why did he tell darry? it was none of his business.

"yeah. i was just tired, dar. that's all." soda was pretty sure word got to him about the panic attack, there's no way it wouldn't. and now darry was worrying about him way too much. he didn't want that. why couldn't darry just leave him alone? "i just came out to eat, then i was gonna go lay back down. that alright?"

"i- yeah, that's okay. you can always join us if you change your mind." darry said.

soda smiled and promised he'd think on it. he knew he wouldn't. he went straight back to his room and exchanged pony's hoodie for his own. it was too big for him. was he losing weight or something? that couldn't be good.

it's just stress, he told himself over and over, staring at the floor. and maybe steve's dad would be disgusted if soda got real skinny. bones and skin and blood. maybe he'd finally leave soda alone. soda chuckled at the thought. nothing disgusted that man. maybe he got off on seeing how soda was slowly being destroyed by him.

that had to be it. soda curled up in bed and drowned himself in blankets. that's the only reason, right? to watch something beautiful die. take his innocence from him, take his safety and security. his sexuality. his personality. everything that made him who he was.

his family hadn't been taken yet, but it felt like only a matter of time. he couldn't pretend this was fine forever. he knew that. everyone already knew something was wrong with him. he was still positive darry would kick him out of the house if he found out. blame it on him. he knew this was all his fault. darry wouldn't be wrong. but it hurt. he had nowhere to go and darry was his world. darry and pony both. and he wouldn't have either of them.

tears fell from his eyes at the thought. he didn't want his brothers to hate him.