Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Live, Love, Lose - 39. Chapter 39
They didn’t talk to each other after what happened. They both pretended and acted as if nothing had happened. For a very short instant, it had seemed to be just some kind of dream, but the mark on his hand was real. He was left intrigued and confused by this.
They started sharing the bedroom again once they got back to London. George didn’t seem to be angry at him any longer. This was really weird.
He felt the need to remain close to George in case he tried again to hurt himself. He didn’t trust him enough to be sure he would never start again. With George not having to go to university any longer in the summer this meant they could have plenty of occasions to spend much more time together, whenever he wasn’t studying with Mrs. Hopkins and whenever George wasn’t with Mr. Hopkins.
One late afternoon he found George crying in the bedroom as he was sitting on the bed, causing his heart and stomach to ache again.
He instinctively expected him to yell at him when he would realise he was there observing him in silence, but as he cleared his throat to make his presence known, strangely he didn’t. He just stared at him helplessly with red and puffy eyes behind his glasses. He didn’t even say a word, as if he simply didn’t know what he could say, or as if he just had nothing to tell him.
Of course, neither did Karl know what to say or to do. He was just getting frustrated by his lack of reaction and his growing helplessness.
“Just don’t stare at me like that,” George ended up speaking after a while in a low and weak voice.
The aching sensation got stronger.
“Please…” he begged.
Stop…he wanted to tell him, the familiar feeling making him feel even worse. It was as if they were going round in circles and that there had been no improvement so far…
He wanted to sigh, but he didn’t.
What should he do?
He couldn’t stand it any longer. He approached George with hesitant steps and sat near him. They observed each other silently for a while. It felt kind of awkward. Karl still wondered what he should do now. Next thing he knew George was hugging him tightly. He froze as he could feel his heart race madly. George was really…unpredictable… He hesitantly wrapped his arms around him and attempted to offer him some kind of comfort and relief.
Why would he hug him out of all people? He could hug Mrs. Hopkins, Mr. Hopkins, even Paul, his mother, or Jojo, so why choose him?
Probably because he was there at that precise moment while they weren’t. He took what he had on hand, that was all. He tried to think about something to say that could help, but he couldn’t come up with anything.
Karl had never been the kind of outgoing and cheerful guy who had a lot of friends and who is liked by everyone. He wasn’t the kind of guy people usually confided in. He had never known how to comfort and cheer someone up. Simply because he never had the chance to do so.
Well, he had managed to comfort Jojo, to his great surprise, but…it had been different. Jojo wasn’t George. And he was only a boy. And he guessed it was easier to comfort children.
He couldn’t help thinking about his mother and Mr. Hopkins. The way they had hugged him, needing and seeking some comfort so desperately, looking like broken things that tried to be fixed, but that could never be like what they were before. When something is broken, you can try to fix it as much as you want, even succeed sometimes, but the cracks will always be there. They’ll never disappear. That realisation was like a cold shower to him. His heartbeat wouldn’t calm down. He was trembling, and his jaw was slightly clenched. He wished such awful thoughts could be erased from his mind, but they wouldn’t leave him alone.
He could feel George’s grip tighten on his body, as if he let go he would be hurt. The pain he was feeling was becoming more and more unbearable as the seconds passed.
Why did it affect him in such a way?
Maybe that was the reason why his mother had always looked so untouched by so many things. Because if you are not the kind of compassionate person, you don’t have to endure so much suffering, and it’s easier.
Karl could feel him trembling, and hear him sniffling as well. He guessed he really needed to try to do something to help, anything. He started rubbing his back with a shy hand, hoping it would be enough. It seemed that George managed to relax after a while. He stopped doing it when he considered it was enough. But George didn’t let go of him afterwards. But if it could make him feel better, he wouldn’t ask him to stop.
George’s breathing became slow and even, and he could feel his heart slow down as well to beat more regularly, to his great relief. They remained like this for long minutes, which soon became one hour, and then maybe more. He couldn’t be exactly sure of how much time passed. It was so quiet. It felt almost unreal.
Had he fallen asleep?
He could have. He tried to check, but it wasn’t that easy in their respective positions. He feared that if he made the slightest move he would ruin that peaceful moment. But they couldn’t stay like this forever…and his butt was starting to hurt from sitting in the same position for too long. He shifted a little in his spot to try to lessen the ache, but he flinched slightly as George started stirring.
Oops.
He finally removed his arms from around him after a few seconds and shifted. But he didn’t move away from him. His position was kind of….erm…He couldn’t even find the right word to describe it. He was now half sitting on his lap, his legs resting on the bed, and he suddenly wrapped his arms around his neck, as if to prevent himself from falling because of too much weakness. Karl was feeling quite uncomfortable. He didn’t even dare move.
He met George’s gaze. His eyes looked wild. He could feel the tension building up in his back and shoulders. George remained mum, and he would have preferred to hear him talk, say anything. Shout and glare at him. Their faces were really close to each other, maybe a bit too close for what they were supposed to be to each other… He preferred the other position.
He was acting in a really strange way. What did he want exactly? It was frustrating Karl not to know. He knew communication wasn’t the easiest and natural thing for them to do, but he could make an effort. They could both make one.
As Karl opened his mouth ready to speak, George moved his face closer to him, catching him off guard. His body twitched violently and unexpectedly as he felt something damp touch his lips. He became paralysed. He couldn’t understand what was happening. His brain was getting all confused and blurred. It stopped but started again quickly. It became more insistent, more oppressive. That’s when Karl realised what was actually happening. He didn’t feel well all of a sudden. In one brutal and violent movement, he broke the disturbing contact of their lips, and in his haste, George ended up on the floor.
Karl was feeling breathless. He instinctively recoiled until his back was touching the wall. George seemed to be too taken back to think about standing up. That moment seemed like it was never going to stop. The longer the more torturous it seemed. Their eyes met briefly, and Karl instantly looked away, unable to look at him anymore. Not after what had just happened.
George still didn’t speak. He saw him stand up after a while. He exited the room swiftly, seemingly ignoring him again. And maybe it was really for the better.
Karl didn’t move for a long while. He remained sitting there, his back leaning against the wall for support as he kept staring blankly at the ajar door. He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t help it. It was all too fresh in his mind to be brushed aside.
George had kissed him…
But…why…why had he done such a thing?
It was as weird as his will to hurt himself, if not weirder…
He couldn’t understand…he guessed he could never understand George himself. It was too hard.
He’d never thought that…he would do this… Since when had it been on his mind?
Was it because of what happened in Brighton?
And why was he asking himself questions he knew he couldn’t answer?
He didn’t know the answer to this either.
But he knew that a kiss wasn’t a thing two boys did. Boys could kiss girls, and girls could kiss boys, that was how it was supposed to happen. It didn’t prevent two boys from being close friends. And kissing a boy like you would kiss a girl was just… His body was seized by an unpleasant shiver at the thought of it. He had never thought such a thing could exist and didn’t want to. It was pointless.
Men were meant to be with women, to marry them, and have children with them. That’s what he had been told. If men were meant to be with men, he would have known it.
And honestly, he wasn’t physically attracted to George and knew he would never be.
It still felt weird.
He swore he could still feel the sensation of their lips touching. As if George had left his mark on him.
Wait, what mark? What was he even talking about?
That was stupid.
He was finding himself weird now…
It seemed that his body was on fire, he was so hot. He was almost suffocating. He needed to breathe in some fresh air. But he didn’t move.
It wouldn’t stop.
He brought his hand to his mouth and brushed his lips with his index and middle fingers. He removed them only to caress his lips a few seconds later. His touch lingered, and it almost seemed that his fingers got stuck to his now dry lips.
There was something really weird about it. But of course, he didn’t know what. He let his hand fall in his lap before he licked his lips.
His stomach hurt; it hurt so much, it was worse than any of the other times when it had. And he was shivering badly, yet he was still feeling so hot. He could be feverish, sick without having realised it. No, he had strong stamina. It couldn’t be that.
Why did it have to happen to him?
Any thoughts about this
Take care ❤️
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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