doppelgänger --> there's never just one {sequel}

dennis

*as you probably have noticed already, the picture in the media, I have photoshopped and altered a little to fit this part of the story, just letting you know as a disclaimer.*

At this point, Dennis was nearly done. How was he supposed to trust her with his own life if he couldn't even trust her with one small thing?

They could've had a baby, a baby on the way, but Bex eliminated the chance of that in a heartbeat, without even thinking.

And the fact that she didn't even consult him first, didn't tell him in the first place that there even was a baby.... terrified him. What else had she avoided telling him? What else has she kept a secret? Could she possibly have considered not telling him about the abortion or the baby at all? Almost all trust was lost at this point, and he was asking himself too many questions and letting his mind wander far. Part of him thought he should go talk to her, but the other just wanted to avoid it.

As Dennis stared back at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes shifted down to his freshly inked bird tattoo, with accents of bright yellow, the bird perched on a thin, bony skeleton's pointer finger, all placed on the front of his right shoulder. It was for her.

Bex had always loved birds; just another unique thing about her that he loved. But he didn't know how much longer he could go without knowing all the complete truth.

*

Later, when Dennis stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist, he stood once again in front of the mirror, looking back at himself, this time for the purpose of making sure he didn't miss anything while shaving his face. Not after long, though, he was interrupted by someone pounding at the bathroom door.

Instantly his eyes flicked to the doorknob, looking closely to make sure it was locked. "Dennis, hurry up, I need to get in the shower!" Dani yelled through the door, banging on it some more.

"Okay, Danielle, I hear you!" he yelled back, slightly annoyed with his demanding younger sister, but at the same time, a smirk across his lips. Everyone knew Danielle hated to be called by her full first name.

"Dennis, stop! Mommy, Dennis just called me 'Danielle'!" he heard her tattletale down the stairs, his mothers response being, "So, what? Honey, that is your name."

After laughing to himself as he heard Dani storm downstairs, he turned the razor back on, continuing to shave. But all the sudden, just like that, in the blink of an eye, nothing felt normal. He pulled the razor back, away from his face, exposing a small red gash on his jaw he'd made be accident from pressing too hard. He could have just blown it all off and acted like it was nothing, but he couldn't.

He just wasn't able to.

It reminded him too much of he early days of when he started cutting himself, when he started cutting himself; when he would take the inner blades out of his father's electric razor and carve into his skin with them, to the point where they had to be tossed, and Andy would always wonder why he still had stubble after a week of shaving with a razor he didn't know had been robbed of its blades.

A sick wave of nausea passed over him when his eyes locked with the scars on his torso, covering his chest and his stomach, some white, indicating old ones, and some bloody red; so intense that he had to look away. He leaned against the bathroom counter, as an attempt to steady himself a little and catch his breath. He could hear the sound of his hungry stomach, which made him feel even more sick. Dennis was so skinny now that anyone could visibly see his ribs sticking through, and none of his pairs of pants would stay up without the help of a belt set on the tightest buckle hole.

When there was another knock at the bathroom door, Dennis jumped, startled at the sudden nose which interrupted his thoughts. Quickly, he gathered himself, slipped a shirt over his head, and yelled, "Come in!" to whoever was waiting outside.

Slowly, the door opened, and Bex stuck her head in, giving him a small smile. "Hey, baby."

He forced the tiniest grin, tugging on the towel around his waist to make sure it was tight enough. Dennis didn't think Bex would think anything of it, but apparently she did; it was clear to him now that her expression had turned worried. She stepped in and closed the door behind her, jumping up and taking a seat on the counter just above the sink. Meeting sad eyes with him, she started, "So, we haven't talked actually had a talk since everything happened. What have you been thinking about? Like, you haven't waned to talk; nothing's been on your mind?"

"I never said nothing's been on my mind or I didn't want to talk. I just haven't," he responded, applying some aftershave, purposely avoiding the spot where he nicked himself, and plugging in the hairdryer.

"Why not?" she asked him, keeping her eyes trained on his, following them with hers even as he looked away and started blow-drying his hair, his eyes not on Bex, but on the reflection of his hair in the mirror.

"Because?" he answered, sort of as a question.

After a short pause, Bex broke the silence with another question. "Do you think you've just been scared to?"

Without hesitation, he replied, "No," flatly as he picked up the straight iron.

Bex say there in silence and watched her boyfriend curiously, just thinking. It was these times, these situations, when it was quiet and it was just the two of them that she really thought about him and appreciated him.

"How have you been lately? Have you been happy?"

Dennis shook his head, his lips set straight, face almost expressionless, except for a hint of sadness in his eyes that she sensed.

Bex jumped down from the counter, wrapping her arms around his waist to hug him, and only them did she first realize how skinny he really was. Her heart sank, and she began to feel guilty that she hadn't taken it more seriously when she first noticed it a while ago and addressed it sooner.

Bex proceeded to lift the edge of his shirt, shocked to see how marked up with bloody cuts his stomach was, and that he was so thin his ribs were showing through.

He looked....

Fragile almost.

But a glance was all she got before he reacted and moved like lightning, pulling his shirt back down to hide the scars from her and dropping the flat iron, burning himself in the process. He finally, like she'd feared but had been expecting him to do for so long, just dropped to the floor, holding his arm where he burnt it, breaking down. He hadn't been showing emotion at all lately, and she knew him well enough to realize that he'd been bottling it all up for all this time, believing he was stronger than that, man enough to deal with it all; all the pressure.

And he was strong, but he was a man. He was human. It was only normal for him to feel this emotion and to let it all go after holding it in for so damn long.

"Dennis," she said, her voice breaking, the tears starting to fall as she crumbled to the floor with him. They sat together, crying, until she finally took his face, looked him in the sad, wet eyes and sobbed, "I'm sorry," apologizing for all she had done to him, and his baby, "I'm so sorry for not being honest with you, sweetheart, you didn't deserve it. I love you so much, and only you, and I promise you my honesty and trust until the end of time."

At first he stared at her, trying to catch his breath from his breakdown, looking into her eyes as if he didn't understand -- until he grabbed her face and kissed her so passionately; like he hadn't in so long, with so much feeling, so much meaning, as if to thank her.

And he did.

And when she opened her eyes and saw the bird tattoo on his shoulder, one she'd never seen before, for her, and her heart sang.

Just as she was about to close her eyes again, Dennis opened his, and when his bright eyes met her baby blue ones, he could rest assured, and he knew that everything would be alright, because he knew, she would always be there for him, and they would never leave each other.

Because he loved her more that anything else in the world, and she felt the same about him.

He would never give her away, ever.