Healing Gabriel (BoyxBoy)

✖ Chapter Thirty-Six ✖

Healing Gabriel: Chapter Thirty-Six

     

                                  ※(*)※Gabriel's POV※(*)※

    

      Getting back into the run of things at school was both a breath of relief and sigh of vexation. On one hand, I was glad to be out of the house well-rested and distracted. But on the other hand, I wanted to stay home and paint, take care of my fish, or simply cat nap my way through the day. Maybe hang out and kiss Evan. The usual stuff, you know? And though I could spend time with Evan at school, I wasn't so keen on kissing him in public. So the both of us would have to wait. I don't think he minded, though. The sleepover last weekend had brought us closer, in a way. Not only had it shown me that even through the sleepless nights and nightmares, Evan would stay right by my side and help chase the horrors away, but also that I really had to start being more truthful about my feelings and openly telling Evan about my past. He'd been right when he said that if I wanted to get better, I would have to learn to trust him enough to answer his questions about my past more honestly.

      It's been a week since then, a week of trying to open myself up more to him, a week of him practicing his patience for me. A week of projects, homework, friends, kisses and caresses. A week of our relationship improving, but a week of his health declining. Rather drastically, might I add. But it was Monday, and in just a little over a week, he'd be at the doctor's office. He'd be okay, soon.

      "Right?" I asked him during the last period of the day. There were only about fifteen minutes of class left, and we'd already finished our tasks, so we had the remaining period to talk. Evan looked up from his phone, which he was trying to hide in his lap and behind his desk, and gave me his attention.

      "Right what?" he asked. 

      "Right, you'll be okay?"

      He took a sip from his water bottle, something he'd been having to do a lot lately before he could talk, and nodded his head. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

      "I don't know, it's just . . . your throat, you know?"

      He let out a small groan, coughed hard, took another sip of his water, then went back to tapping on his phone. "We already talked about this. I have a doctor's appointment in two weeks."

      "Did you ask your mom if she could push the appointment up? To, like, today, after school?"

      "Gabriel, I swear I'm going to kiss you so hard in front of everyone if you don't stop worrying about me," he threatened, shooting me a playful grin. His humor warmed me and melted away the sharp edges of my worries. But they were still there.

      "Okay, okay," I said, resting my hand on the back of my neck. "Sorry, I just . . . I can't help worrying about you."

      "It's okay," he said, shrugging. "I understand. I mean, I can't stop worrying about you, either."

      "Why do you have to worry about me?"

      "Uh, well, for starters, you didn't eat anything at lunch," he reminded me, sounding slightly bothered by that for some reason. I purrowed at him.

      "So? I wasn't hungry."

      "You're never hungry."

      "You act like that's such a problem."

      He raised his eyes to me, a stern look radiating from the chocolate abyss. "Don't be immature. You know you should be eating at least half your body weight on a daily basis."