Smothered (bxb)

High Hopes

That night I dreamed about him.

I saw blood, dripping from the walls of a narrow hallway. My vision was blurred so I had a hard time focusing on anything and I just ended up stumbling down the long hall, searching for Gus. I remember the only thought in my mind was that I had to find him. I kept walking until I came to an old door with it's paint peeling and a rusted handle. Sweat was dousing my body and I felt like the room was spinning all around me. I carefully reached out and opened it as it creaked. Inside was a very small room. Blood lined the walls and handprints smeared crimson red on the floor. In one corner was a toilet and a sink, cracked and blood splattered, and in the other corner was a heap of flesh. The body that was lying there was weak and still. I walked up closer to it and as I knelt down to see who it was, a hand reached out behind me cupping my mouth and another hand grabbed my neck, strangling me as they revealed who the limp body was. It was Gus's body. But it also wasn't him. This version of him was his most fragile, most vulnerable, most broken self. Not the strong, selfless, caring boy I had leaned to know and grew to fall in love with. I stared down at his lifeless, pale face as the arms behind me continued to strangle me until everything around me went black and faded into the reassesses of my mind.

I awoke with a startled gasp and sat up as I desperately looked around noticing that I was not in the blood stained bathroom anymore, but in the safety of my own room. I laid back down into my bed, remembering the horrors of the dream and recalling the night before. How the flashing lights from the police cars illuminated the dark, disgusting rancher in the night. How crime scene tape was plastered on the property and how Gus's exhausted, tortured body leaned up against the ambulance. And when I couldn't stand, when my knees became too weak to handle everything, Gus stayed strong for me. The feeling of his delicate, yet shaking hands combing through my curly hair, soothing me, calming me, letting me know that he was still there, that he was alive, lingered in my memory. I also remembered the way the policemen tore us apart, one grabbed my shoulders and another pulled Gus's arms out from around me. He was kicking, screaming, yelling at them to not take me away from him with all of his remaining strength. And I just stood there, tears in my eyes as I watched the boy I desperately loved get ripped away from me once again.

"Rain?" A small voice asked though a crack in the door of my room. I turned my head and saw my mother peaking in carefully.

"Hmm?" I said in response, pain making emotion crack in my voice.

"I got a call from the social worker that is going to work for Gus." She started, "And she said that he can take visitors this afternoon."

"Okay." I whispered from my bed. I rolled out slowly, putting my feet onto the soft carpet of my bedroom floor. I got up and started towards the bathroom for a shower, but before I walked away my mother spoke again.

"You know he won't be able to stay with us. You two are in a relationship which means we can't foster him. I'm sorry Rain." I nodded, I knew that, I knew he wouldn't be able to stay with us, so I didn't even bother getting my hopes up.

I walked into the bathroom, feet dragging on the floor. I was feeling sorry for myself, and I knew it. Why couldn't I just snap out of this? I wanted to be able to be there for Gus, I wanted to be strong and I wanted to be able to handle this properly. Not like some depressed, moron who can't whip back into reality. How come I was the one who couldn't handle this? Gus had been though so much abuse and violence throughout his lifetime and he could still stay strong, he could still be himself, he could stay above it. So how come I was feeling so helpless?

As I stared at myself in the mirror I saw the purple bags under my dark eyes, and my usually charming smile had turned into a brooding forehead and a sad frown to match. I wonder what had happened to the boy from the little beach town? When did he leave? Was it when we moved here, or was it when I met Gus? Maybe it was when I knew that I had fallen in love with Gus. When I realized I wanted to spend the rest of my days with the sweet boy that loved to share his artwork and couldn't part with the smoke from a cigarette. The nervous boy that wanted to get close to me but was scared that I would be taken from him if he let himself become too attached. The tall, willowy, log haired boy who knew that he had already fallen in love with me and was far too attached to let me be taken away. The strong, selfless boy who wanted me to love him back the way he had grown to love me. The beautiful, elegant boy who knew that I loved him just as much as he loved me.

I stepped into the shower letting the hot water fall on my naked body, trickling down the toned muscles on my stomach and back, flowing  to the shower floor and getting washed down the drain. I let my thoughts drain away with it as I closed my eyes and just listened to the sound of the water patter at my feet. For a while I stood there, my mind filled with blank thoughts until one surfaced.

I needed to get a grip.

I was being completely selfish and I was thinking about myself more than I was thinking about Gus. I was wallowing in pity for myself when I should have been bringing Gus flowers and a soft blanket because I know how much he hated the sheets at the hospital. I should be packing and getting ready to see my boyfriend while I was just standing in the shower hoping that It would all just go away.

I turned the water off and stepped out, toweling myself off and getting dressed in black skinny jeans and my Bob Marley hoodie. I grabbed the backpack that Gus had used before while he was in the hospital and I grabbed some boxers, a pair of sweat pants, jeans, two t-shirts and his favorite Nirvana hoodie that he always stole along with his toothbrush that he kept here and a few pencils and some paper.

I walked out of my room, a look of determination on my face as I came up to my mother who was sitting in the living room.

"I'm ready."