Don't Say Anything (boyxboy)

Chapter 1

"I need you to get tested for AIDs."

The world has an odd way of playing things out. I say that because I never thought my boyfriend would be telling me that after we had sex at almost one in the morning. I felt my body physically deflate and my chest cave in from those eight words. My breath had been stolen from me, I felt lightheaded, and my stomach had started churning in fear. What the fuck has he done to me?

And I understood that he, too, could feel my anger boiling beneath the thin surface of my skin. He knew I was mad. He knew I was upset. I was fucking enraged. But at the same time, I felt numb, like a transparent being floating in and out of consciousness. Without a word to him, I had gotten up off the bed and threw on my clothes. I had pulled my pink sweater over my head just in time to see him pulling on his shorts.

"Kell, did you fucking hear me? I said I need you to get tested for-" I didn't let him finish that sentence. Actually, I didn't want him to finish that sentence. It was too painful to hear.

"I heard what the fuck you said!" I yelled at him. I could already start to feel the build-up of tears. The bastard noticed that and smirked so lightly that I could barely tell. He likes making me upset and mad, he's fucking sick, but I love him. And I hate that about myself.

"How could you do this to me?" I asked him. My posture was stiff and tense, the room felt suffocating. He glanced at me and scoffed as if I knew the answer.

"Oh, calm down you little bitch." I'd have taken offense but it wasn't the first time he'd called me that. I didn't think things could have gotten worse than then. And I should've broken up with him, but I couldn't, because I love him. But sometimes, I really wish I didn't.

"This is your fault! It's all your fucking fault! You fucking cheated on me with some whore and now I could have AIDs because of your mistake!" I screamed at him. I could tell my throat would be sore later, but I didn't care about that at the moment. I could taste my tears against my lips and I could feel my anguish surround me. I had lost all control. I started thrashing and swinging my arms, beating my small fist against his chest. I saw his brows furrow in anger and I could see his own rage boil beneath his eyes. Something was different that time, I didn't know what, but I could tell.

"Stop hitting me, slut!" He yelled right back at me. His comment hurt and only slowed me for a moment before I went back full force. My efforts had made no big difference, he wasn't going to have bruises. I couldn't even hit that hard. But it was when I scratched him accidentally that he grabbed my wrist and threw me back that I knew for sure something was different.

I should've stopped when he told me to. Maybe it was the tiredness in his eyes, or the way he always seemed to be agitated around me that made me want to stop. Maybe he's sick of my bullshit. I didn't stop, though. Because I was already too late. And I only realized that when he cocked his hand back and slapped me straight across the face.

My scream was what made me believe that is wasn't some sick joke, and the pain from the impact stung when I brought my hand up to my cheek. I wanted to think that is was maybe a nightmare, but the tenderness of my flesh told me otherwise. The reality set in and I could feel tears roll down my cheeks, rapid and wet. The look of anger hadn't changed and it only looked like he wanted to hit me again.

But then his eyes softened and his fists unclenched.

"Baby, fuck, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I won't do it again. I'm just looking out for you. I'm sorry. I love you." The short sentences spat out of his mouth quickly and urgently, like he couldn't bear to lose me. His voice sounded sincere enough and the look in his eyes made me believe him. I looked at him and just gave a small, weak nod. It's my way of saying I forgive him. Why I forgave him? Because he loves me and I love him. I'm desperate for his affection and his touch. He's toxic, and I hate that.