Tower Over Me (Waycest)

Chapter Four : Secrets

Mikey's POV

I stare at the kid Infront of me, a sick feeling settling inside.

"I'm..naturally thin. Do you need a therapist dude?" I ask trying to escape the situation immediately. I was doubtful of turning the kid down for a small second and it terrified me.

I was still sick. It was sometimes easier to convince myself that I wouldn't have to live with this forever.

"Come on. Think about it, I'm in here between every class all day for today, take it or leave it, offers off the table at the end of last period."

I back away from him and snatch another paper towel from the dispenser and wipe my nose one last time before tossing it away and heading into the hallway.

Was I gonna go for it? I needed to decide now. I lean against the wall and look at the entrance of the bathroom for a few seconds. I'll go, after second period to see if he's bluffing. I sniffle and push myself off the wall, I wouldn't have an excuse from the nurse, but Mr.Leith is pretty cool about most things.

Especially since he knows my situation with Andy, because Andy's in his class third period and he listens to the things he says.

I see the door down the hall and I sigh. Band usually wasn't that bad, this time of year its rather boring because by Jersey law we have to review and take a mid term.

I push the door open and Mr.Leith looks up at me from his spot at the front of the ensemble setting.

"See me after class Mr.Way, have a seat." I nod and head to my seat and he continues to talk. "So, a small review for the woodwinds, when playing a piece with long notes, play softly or your part will sound out of place and could throw of the tempo of the rest of the band."

Mr.Leth sighs and I settle in my seat. "Okay here's the boring part. Your mid-term for this semester will be to perform live as the music for a small ballet production. Not one note can be missed or the dancers could get confused. Everyone is required or the alternative assignment is a three page paper on a composer due the day of the production."

The class sighs and Mr.Leith nods, "I'm awful I know." I zone out and start to think about Emerson, someone I guess I'll be getting to know. Well, there's still time to change my mind but I don't really want to.

I look down at my lap, my hands are shaking and my vision goes blurry for a moment. I take a deep breath and hold it for a moment before letting it out.

Mr.Leith says something that makes the class start talking, probably something about a rehearsal on a weekend. I look up and make eye contact with my friend Hayley. She was in the therapy unit with me, she doesn't really speak to me anymore, but she stares alot.

She blinks a few times and I look away, I don't want to think about therapy units and shameful weighing times, it was disgusting and I felt like a child, so stupid, so weak. I want to be strong, I can be strong, I can do it right this time, I know what not to do and Emerson probably knows a bit too, he's rather frail.

I look over at Mr.Leith, his wrists are very bony, small and cute, I look down at my own wrists and frown. They look much less attractive, I feel disgusting. Many people I told about my eating disorder say I've always been very thin, underweight by a few pounds, but I'm just covered in extra things covering my form.

I feel like I'm gonna vomit, but there's nothing for me to vomit. I haven't eaten since Tuesday night and it's Thursday morning. I've gone longer, I know how long I can go, or at least I knew.

They took away my knowledge of how long my body can go, they put me on a diet and my body got used to it. Now it's confused and my head is confused and I can't focus. How do I focus when there's this kid trying to talk me into another eating disorder?

Does this kid know how far things like this can go? Has he seen the clinic's and the families and the meal plans and the scales and medicines for depression? Has he seen a diagram of his life that has an end? Has he seen the charts and the posters and PSAs for all of this.

Do I want to see it all again? Do I want to see my ribcage, my collar bones, my hip bones, my spine, when I look in the mirror?

Do I want to live?
Do I want to die?
Do I even care?

Gerard's POV

Frank undoes the rest of the buttons on my flannel and gives me a moment to push it off my shoulders as he removes his own shirt. I smile at him and look over his neck, his tattoo looking so perfectly done, I always admired it. I wish I wasn't afraid to get them myself.

Frank leans down and undoes my jeans with his teeth, I bite my lip and watch. He's such a talented slut, very strong teeth. He looks up at me and motions for me to lift my hips up so he could slide my jeans off.

I blush slightly and look up at the ceiling, it's so familiar, I'm so used to his touch, it's not all very exciting.

It may be for him because he's not some freak who wants his little brother, his mind is on a path much different than mine but that used to be the exciting part but now he's drug me down his path a bit and it's boring.

Frank is exciting in his own way, but eventually it becomes played out, especially when someone totally different and off limits captivates my mind.

Frank slides his own jeans off and climbs into my lap. "Gerard, if you're not in the mood you can tell me." He whispers warmly and I laugh quietly. "What gave me away?" Frank smiles, "You constantly zoning out was pretty obvious. Is there something bothering you Gee? Your art not going the way you wanted? You worried about something?"

I feel slightly smothered but the suffocation was almost nice because I was used to Frank pressing me to tell him my thoughts. He says it's better to talk about it because he's seen me keep it quiet.

"No. I'm not worried at all, in fact I'm very inspired about my art. It should be done soon." It wasn't a lie, I just wish it was Frank that inspired me still but I've written my fair share of stories about people like Frank.

The new set of ideas that comes with Mikey, it's so much more intriguing than all the work about Frank is.

I wrote Frank music, I drew Frank countless things, I've almost completed a book for Frank. He's drained me and I'm tired, but I don't know how to operate alone and Mikey's not an option.

Well not a morally correct option.

"I think we need to talk." Frank says and climbs off of me, he hands me my shirt and I pull it back on.

"Who else is there?"