Bleeding Hearts - 5. Chapter 5

There is a delicate-looking plant native to North America called bleeding heart. When it blooms, its long, arching branches are covered with tiny heart-shaped flowers, each one with what looks like a drop of blood coming from the bottom—hence the name. It likes shade and doesn’t much care for wind.

Unfortunately, we were getting a lot of wind that day. From the door overlooking the garden, I watched it blow furiously through the brightly colored flowers. Many of them had already lost their petals, but so far, the bleeding hearts were holding their own. I couldn’t say the same for myself. I was feeling more and more lost by the second.

Suddenly, I was possessed with an irresistible urge to go out into the yard. I didn’t know why. Maybe I hoped the storm’s fury would blow me away—or at least blow away the storm raging inside me. I opened the door and stepped outside. The wind buffeted my body, and the driving rain instantly soaked through my clothes. It poured down my face, the raindrops mixing with my tears. I didn’t care. I just wanted to stop hurting, to stop feeling.

I fell to my knees in the middle of the yard. I had never felt so alone. In the course of the last two weeks, I’d lost everything and everyone important to me. I had alienated all my friends. Seth had been murdered. And now my mother knew I was gay—something I’d only figured out for myself a few days before—and she’d been so disappointed she couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with me. She was going to tell my dad and the only sure thing about his reaction was that it would be very bad. There was no one I could turn to, no one left to talk to. I found myself wishing that whoever had killed Seth had finished me off, too. I wanted to die.

I’d never had thoughts like that before. I’d never understood how people could even consider hurting themselves, let alone killing themselves. And there I was, trying to figure out the best method.

I knew where Dad kept a gun in his bedroom. He’d made me learn how to shoot. I was good, but I didn’t like guns. There was no way I could follow through with that plan.

I could swallow some pills; except I didn’t know what kind or how many to take. I didn’t even know if we had anything that would work—and this was one job I didn’t want to leave half finished.

I didn’t think I could bring myself to slit my wrists.

Maybe I could just stay there in the storm and wait to die of exposure. Even though it was barely the middle of September, the storm was the product of a cold front that had caused the temperature to drop abruptly. I was shivering violently, kneeling in the middle of my backyard in the pouring rain, lightning flashing and thunder crashing all around me.

I don’t know how long I had been sitting there when a voice penetrated my dark reverie. “Killian!”

I got the impression it wasn’t the first time they had called my name. Before I could even raise my head, someone was at my side. I looked up through the rain pouring down my face thought for a moment that I was hallucinating.

It was Asher.

“Why...what are you doing here?” My voice was thick from crying.

“I saw you from my window. What are you doing out here? Come on. You have to get inside.”

He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me up, but I pushed him away. “No, just leave me here.”

“What? No way! It’s freezing out here, and you’re soaked.” When I didn’t move, he knelt down next to me, carefully wrapped his arms around, gently picked me up, and carried me into the house. I let him do it. I was past putting up a fight.

We entered through the sliding glass doors just as Mom came into the room.

“Oh my God,” she gasped when she saw us. “What happened?”

We must have looked pretty bad. I was soaked to the bone from the torrential downpour, and Asher wasn’t much better, even in just the few minutes he was out there.

He carefully lowered me to the couch before turning back to my mother. “He was in the backyard. I don’t know how long he was out there. I think he’s okay, at least physically, but...he’s really upset. He needs to get into some dry clothes, though.”

My mom stood staring at me with one hand over her mouth. She didn’t respond at all. It was as if she hadn’t even heard Asher.

“Mrs. Kendall?”

She looked at him as if she’d noticed him for the first time. “Oh, Asher, I... Could you leave us alone for just a minute? Don’t go far. I... I think we’ll want your help. I just need a few minutes alone...”

“Sure, no problem, Mrs. Kendall. I’ll go get some towels.” He cast me one last look as he left the room.

Mom walked slowly to my side and knelt on the floor. She reached out a trembling hand and smoothed back the wet hair that was plastered to my forehead.

“Baby, what were you doing out there?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

I turned my head away. “I wanted to die.”

A single, choked sob caught in her throat. “Oh, God! Killian, I’m so sorry.”

She reached up and gently turned my face toward her. “Listen to me. I don’t care if you’re straight or gay or bi...or...whatever. I love you with all my heart, and that will never change. I’ve tried to protect you. I... I think I’ve always known you were different. And that’s not a bad thing, it’s just...it’s going to take some adjustment on my part. I don’t know anything about being gay, but I’ll learn. I love you.”

We were both crying as I rolled onto my side and hugged her tightly, ignoring the pain I still felt from my wound. My adventure outside didn’t seem to have helped it much.

“I love you, too.” I couldn’t remember the last time we’d said those words to each other. One of my earlier fears resurfaced. “You’re not going to tell Dad, are you?”

She snorted. “Are you kidding? Of course not.” She gently pulled away. I didn’t want to let her go. “You need to get out of those wet clothes. We’ll talk more later. Asher?”

He entered the room so quickly I knew he must have been waiting just around the corner so as not to disturb us. He was carrying a couple of towels.

Mom took the towels and handed them to me. “Can you help Killian upstairs to his room so he can change?” she asked Asher.

“Of course, Mrs. Kendall.” They both helped me up, and Asher slid his arm around my waist to give me support. I leaned against him, and we started toward the stairs.

“And Asher?” Mom called. We stopped at the bottom step. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For finding Killian...and being such a good friend.”

We stood there for a second before Asher nudged me into moving again. The climb up the stairs was slow and rather difficult. We took one step at a time, mostly in silence, until we finally made it to my room.

Asher helped me to my bed, then turned around. I thought he was leaving, but instead he shut the door and came back over to me.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

He stood staring at me, a frown on his face. His wet long-sleeved tee clung to his torso, emphasizing his muscular physique. I tore my eyes away from his chest and back up to his face. Finally, he spoke. “Your mom’s wrong. I’ve not been a very good friend. You even said so yourself.”

“You’re friends with Zack and Jesse, and Zack’s always been the leader.” My voice was flat. I was simply stating the facts. “They’ve always come first. I should be used to that by now. Like I said, I’m the backup plan. Or I used to be. I guess I’m not even that anymore.” I shook my head. “Why are you even here?”

He ignored my question and started rummaging through my dresser, looking for dry clothes. He opened my underwear drawer, pulled out a pair of boxers, and tossed them onto the bed.

“That kid getting killed really upset you, huh?” He still had his back to me as he continued his search.

“Jeez, Asher, what do you think? I found him. And whoever killed him tried to kill me, too. No, I’m not upset. I’m just fucking fine and dandy here.”

Then, to my great embarrassment, I burst into tears—again. You’d think I’d have run out eventually, but I seemed to have a never-ending supply. How was I not completely dehydrated?

“Damn it!” He dropped the shirt he was taking from the drawer and rushed to my side. “Killian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so stupid sometimes. I just...I didn’t realize you were so close to him.”

“We weren’t that close. I just can’t stop crying. It’s all I do anymore.” I was really getting tired of it, too. My eyes were aching from all the tears I’d shed. I probably looked as horrible as I felt. I was sure my face had to be red and puffy.

Asher picked up one of the towels and gently wiped off my face, then started drying my hair.

I felt like a little kid. “What are you doing here?” I asked again.

“I guess this is my way of saying I’m sorry for being such a jerk.” He paused, then continued, “I had a big fight with Zack and Jesse earlier this week. I haven’t talked to them since.”

“You did? About what?” I was confused. “I thought you guys were like super tight.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to come see you after...well, you know, but they didn’t think I should.”

“Shouldn’t hang out with fags, huh?” I snarled bitterly. “It might rub off on you.”

Asher froze. We stared at each other for a few seconds, neither of us speaking or moving. Then Asher tossed the towel aside, retrieved the shirt he’d dropped, and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. He brought them over and set them on the bed. He stood there for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do. Suddenly, he reached down and took off my glasses.

“What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, he began pulling up my shirt.

“Hey!” I yelped.

“I’m just helping you with your shirt.”

“I don’t need help. I can do it by myself.”

“Oh, you can, huh? You can pull this wet shirt over your head without an extreme amount of pain?” I stopped struggling. He had a point. “Just let me help. It’s okay. I’ve seen you without a shirt hundreds of times. What’s the big deal?”

Sure, he’d seen me without a shirt when we were kids at the pool, or in the locker room, but this felt different, more intimate. We were alone in my bedroom. Plus, I was certain he would think it was a big deal if he knew that I was gay.

He was right, though. I did need help. I gave him a dirty look but allowed him to help me untangle my arms from the damp material and pull it over my head. The maneuver still caused quite a bit of discomfort, and I could tell he noticed when I sucked in a breath sharply through my teeth.

Once my shirt was off and all I was wearing were some wet bandages and soaked shorts, I suddenly became very self-conscious. Although I wasn’t exactly unattractive, next to Asher I felt scrawny and pale. “Help me get my shirt on,” I mumbled reaching for the dry one.

“You need to change those bandages first, Kill.”

I sighed. He was right again, of course. “The stuff is in a basket by the couch downstairs.”

He was gone in a flash.

I decided to change my pants while he was out of the room, since that was much easier than pulling on a shirt. I remembered that Adam had given me his number and fished the soggy card from my pocket. It was a little worse for wear but still legible. I grabbed my phone and saved the number, then shucked off my wet shorts.

I was standing there in my sodden boxer briefs when the door flew open again. Asher stopped in his tracks, his eyes darted down to take in my state of undress. It didn’t seem that he’d had time to even get downstairs, yet there he was, holding the basket of medical supplies.

He frowned. “What are you doing up? You should have waited for me.”

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Actually, you kind of are. Now sit down and let me change your bandages.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Will you just stop fighting me and let me help you for a change?” He was starting to sound exasperated, so once again I gave in and sat back down on the bed.

He set the basket on the floor next to me, then knelt between my legs and began to gently unwind the wet wrappings, flinching as he uncovered my wound. It still looked raw and ugly. It wasn’t healing quite as quickly as the doctors had hoped. They said my lungs were doing great, at least. Small victories, I reminded myself.

Asher carefully applied the antibiotic salve before picking up the new roll of bandage. “Arms up,” he murmured, beginning to wrap it around me. He had to put his arms around me with each pass. He seemed to be going much slower than was absolutely necessary, or maybe it just felt like he was moving in slow motion.

I tried not to enjoy the closeness of his body too much. After all, he was strictly off limits. I was also trying very hard to ignore the fact that I was still sitting there wearing nothing but wet underwear.

“You shouldn’t be so nervous about your body, Kill.”

His soft voice in my ear made me jump. Was he reading my mind? “Wh-wh-what?”

“You look great.”

“No, you look great,” I argued. “I’m a skinny nerd. You’re so much more built than I am.”

“Who cares? You’re not a nerd. Well, okay, maybe you are a nerd, but you look fine.” He grinned up at me and secured the end of the bandage with tape. “There, you’re all set.” He stepped back to admire his handiwork before grabbing my shirt and helping me into it. After returning my glasses, he picked up the dry boxers and stood there holding them for a moment, unsure of his next move. He looked so awkward it was all I could do not to start laughing.

“I think I can manage the rest on my own. But thanks for all the help, Ash.”

“You’re welcome, Killian.” He hesitated a second. “I should probably go now, but I want you to know I’m really sorry I haven’t been a very good friend. I promise I’m gonna do better from now on.” Then he totally shocked me by leaning in and kissing me on the cheek.

I was speechless, which Asher used to his advantage to slip quickly out of my room. He paused in the doorway and called over his shoulder, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

I didn’t know what to think of Asher’s sudden about-face. He seemed to be making an honest effort to be my best friend again, but I couldn’t help being a little skeptical. He’d said he’d had a big fight with Zack and Jesse—over me no less—but what if they really just wanted to spy on me? I wouldn’t have put it past them—kind of a mission to see what the fag was up to. After all, Asher had reported to them before.

Except...Asher had seemed sincere, even sweet. And what was up with that kiss? He wouldn’t have thrown it in just to be convincing, would he? I was more confused than ever. Even if he were sincere, would he still be as sweet if I told him I really was gay?

Then again, Mom knew I was gay and she loved me anyway. That knowledge was indescribably comforting. My earlier thoughts of suicide seemed a million miles away. It was amazing how different things looked all of a sudden, simply because Mom accepted me.

But what about Dad? He couldn’t find out. I couldn’t imagine Mom telling him, so I thought I was safe for a while.

Suddenly I was tired. All the conjecture, combined with my very emotional roller-coaster ride of a day, had worn me out. I didn’t have enough energy to tackle the stairs again, so I simply crawled into bed thinking I'd just take a short nap.