Casting Shadows

'No, don't put that there! I don't want that there!'

'Tough shit.'

'Can't you see that there's already way too many ornaments on that side? It doesn't look good!'

'Oh are you a professional Christmas Tree decorator now? Just put more on your side then!'

'I don't have any left because you took them all, ugh!'

'There are plenty more in the attic, just get them!'

'No, YOU get them! YOU took all the others because you're a greedy lil-'

'I'm starting to get a headache from all your bickering!' Christian interrupts, sounding seriously annoyed. 'Skeeter, just get the damn ornaments.'

'WHY ME?' she complains and I can't hold back a triumphant laugh. She shots me a look that I only know too well. What started out as a little teasing due to sexual tension, is now threatening to become more serious.

The whole situation isn't easy on any of us. We've only been back home for a day and even though Skeeter and I have agreed that we would do our best not to make it more awkward than it already is, we clearly fail at it. There's just too much going on. Our parents dealing with us as a couple for the first time since the Thanksgiving incident, the upcoming trip to the cabin with a bunch of people I really don't know that well, me finding out I have a brother and the fact that Tori and Christian have no idea that I know this secret they have kept from me for so long. And then of course the fact that Skeeter isn't allowing me near her, not even when we're by ourselves. Yesterday when we watched Home Alone, she sat on the other side of the couch. Halfway through the movie, I got up to get a soda, grabbed one for her too, and that gave me a good excuse to sit down next to her. I tried to put my arm around her and she shrugged it off and gave me the look. So I tried to take her hand instead but she picked up Akira to play with her, after giving me another look. When we went upstairs and I finally had the opportunity to steal a kiss from her, she literally shut the door in my face before I could even lean in. Although I know why she's doing it, it's driving me nuts. We used to always sneak kisses! Fuck, we used to steal into each other's rooms and do all sorts of things! What's the big deal? We're together, our parents know about it. I'm not saying we should have wild make-out sessions right in front of them but if we ever want them to get used to us, shouldn't we be comfortable with at least holding hands, or putting our arms around each other around them?
There's no doubt we are both frustrated by this.

'I'll get them.' I sigh, and roll my eyes at her as I leave the room to go upstairs.

I'm not doing this to make her feel bad. I'm doing it because I don't want to fight. In the past, I was often too stubborn or too angry to admit that I was wrong, and that resulted in her doing the same. We wouldn't talk, and then she would of course forgive me because hey, I couldn't help it, I was damaged after all. Not that she would ever put it like that but it's the truth and I took advantage of that too many times. Knowing that I could get away with bad behavior.

Perhaps it's silly. That I am that desperate for her after merely 27 hours of not having her close. However, I can sense that she is desperate too. And of course she follows me into the attic.

'I'm sorry.' Skeeter mumbles, clearly not happy about her behavior but also aware that I know she can't help it, just like I can't help mine.

'Not getting any for a day and you're that bad? Maybe now you get an idea of what I'm going through when you're on your period.' I joke while I move some boxes around.

'Oh shut up.' she sits down next to me and grabs one of them, opening it to peek inside.

'What's the deal? Why won't you let me near you? They'll never get used to it if we act like we hate each other. Unless...you do hate me. Do I smell? Or are you actually on your period?' I still try to make light of the issue but I do want to know what's going on inside her head.

Skeeter ignores my childish comments. 'It's just weird. They're watching us like...we're some oddity. You know that look on my mom's face when all we do is stand next to each other? I can just tell she's thinking about us having sex. And then she does that head shake thing, trying to make that thought go away? When we got here, and she couldn't find her key so I gave her my bag so she could use mine, she saw my birth control pills while digging for it. You should have seen the horror in her expression. I mean not only is her baby girl having sex, she's having sex with her foster son. And yes, she has known that for a while but now she's confronted with the fact and I just...I want them to get used to us being together but I also don't want her to trigger too many of those mental images. Because I don't like the mental image of my mom having this mental image, you know?'

I can't help but giggle and blush a little. Obviously I completely understand where she's coming from. There was a moment this morning, when Christian and I picked up the tree; we were having a casual conversation when suddenly he seemed to be reminded that I was in a relationship with his daughter and he got all quiet and awkward.

'They're gonna have that mental image no matter what. I just want to hold your hand.' I smile, taking her hand, and she lets me.

'Maybe I haven't gotten over the feeling of doing something wrong. Maybe that's the problem. And I'm sorry. I know that's messed up because I'm aware we're not doing anything wrong. Ugh...I just hate leaving our bubble. Sometimes I wish it was you and me, in our bubble, and we don't have to deal with anyone or anything. We could do things our way, not have a single care in the world. Which is even more messed up because it's unhealthy but...'

'It would be so great.' I nod. 'But you know what's also great? That you helped me not to rely on that bubble anymore. Just a few months ago, I needed that bubble. That bubble was all I had to keep me sane. And I still love the bubble, of course. I hate to leave it too. But I can leave it now and not get a panic attack that makes me want to jump off the nearest bridge.'

'Yeah, look at you. Being all grown up and shit. Being all like 'I can survive outside the bubble, I'm a man now!'' Skeeter is teasing, making me laugh again.

'Baby steps. Truth is, I need to be reminded that the bubble still exists. So, me wanting to hold your hand, or putting my arm around you, or asking for a goodnight kiss, that's me asking for a reminder.' I sound whiney on purpose and instead of scolding me, she reaches out to gently touch my cheek.

'You're right. You'll get your reminders. And to be fair, I need them too. I guess I just have to get over it. And help them get over it too. Plus, we certainly never had a problem having sex in their car soooo.' she gives me a different kind of look now, one that floods my stomach with butterflies.

'We could go for a quick drive, y'know? Say we couldn't find the ornaments and have to hit up Target to buy some.' I wink and she elbows me in the ribs before pressing her lips against mine.

*

As we return to the living room, our hands are entwined. I notice the look on my mom's face but I take a deep breath and ignore it, focusing on Gerard and our bubble. It's not like he's bending me over the table, get over it, I think to myself, hiding the cheeky smile that spreads across my face. We finish the tree, without bickering and without any extra ornaments. Ultimately, Gerard was right. There were way too many on my side. Then again, I only put them there to piss him off.

In all honesty, I admire Gerard. Despite everything that happened in the past few months, especially the very recent Mikey drama, he's doing so well. I can sense some anxiety but it's not worse than my own, and I consider it normal for the circumstances. That's why it's not clear to me why I return to the attic later that night and pull out that one box I opened earlier. The box where I had spotted the files with Gerard's name on it. Nonetheless, I do it. The voice in my head tells me to stop. Tells me that there's nothing in there I don't already know. Since I know the darkest corners of his mind, the things he shared with me in hopes that saying them out loud would make them disappear forever. There's a folder labeled 'therapy' which I open first. I'm not looking for anything in particular, and neither do I want to find any hidden secrets. I skip the letters from the therapists, psychiatrists, I ignore the various test results that would tell me that Gerard dealt with auto aggression, anxiety, ADHD, various developmental problems, among other things, to look at his drawings. We had talked about them before. Gerard couldn't recall what exactly he had drawn, only that he sometimes drew things in order to get a certain reaction and I vaguely remember overhearing conversations my parents had about them sometimes after they returned from therapy with him. For some reason, possibly for my own sake, I tell myself he wouldn't mind me looking at them. I tell myself that this isn't me trying to find something dark and twisted just when things were going so well. So what was I trying to do?

'What am I doing?' I whisper to myself, closing the folder.

There are things in here that not even Gerard knows about anymore. And although I'm not sure whether he should know, or if it's best that he doesn't, why does it matter that I know? To add even more images to the ones I already have in my head and that I wish I could erase? Is there a point to deal with 8 year old distraught, traumatized Gerard when he has clearly come so far? He is back in therapy, and I'm not his therapist.

I'm not his therapist. I never was. I was, and still am, his best friend, his companion, his confidant, his partner in crime, his crush, and now his girlfriend. My whole life, everything revolved around Gerard. Everything I did. No decision was made without thinking about him first. It never felt like I put his needs and feelings before my own, I naturally saw what was best for him as what was best for me too. Undeniably, I enjoyed being needed, I enjoyed being the most important person in his life. All in all it was because he loved me, not because I was the only one who cared about him. There's nothing in my life that I had to put on hold due to him 'taking over'. There's nothing I wanted to do but couldn't due to Gerard. Yet becoming aware of the fact that he doesn't need me as much as he needed me when we were kids makes me slightly sad, even though it makes me proud at the same time. It's difficult to explain. The fear you still feel when you're letting go of someone a little bit more each day regardless of knowing that you're not able to ever let go completely, that the person is always gonna be there no matter what. The feeling of wanting to hold on so tightly but the happiness you experience when you see how well they're doing on their own. God, is this how parents feel about their kids? Gerard is not your child! He's your boyfriend! And he's asleep in the room right below you. Go see him!

I listen to the voice inside my head and put the box with all its contents away. Then I leave the attic and sneak into Gerard's room. He's fast asleep, softly snoring because of his mild cold, and obviously I think it's adorable. Although I try my best not to wake him, he stirs as I slip under the covers.

'Naughty.' he whispers and I can hear the smile in his voice. I snuggle up to him, loving the inviting warmth of his body. I'm so blessed that he allowed me to let me love him despite experiencing nothing but hate in the first few years of his life.

'Shhh, go back to sleep.' I put my finger on his lips and he kisses it softly.

I'm smitten by him. Everything about him. Even the dark and twisted, even though I wish I could make it go away. I replace my finger with my lips and wrap my arms around him, pulling him on top of me. The feeling of his skin against mine brings back the excitement I experienced the very first time we shared this intimacy, and it still feels so innocent, yet passionate. For now, we disregard the desire to make it more than that.

'I love you.' he sighs between kisses and yes, the cliché is true, my heart feels like it's going to explode in my chest.

The truth is, from the very first moment, the moment I gave him my blankie when he wouldn't stop crying, I needed him just as much as he needed me.

'I love you.' I hug him even closer but at the same time I let him go just a little bit more.

Notes

I could continue this story, but I feel like this is a good ending. I feel like if I continued, it would just get darker again, and I don't want that. I *might* write an epilogue chapter, but I won't make any promises.
Also, I'm pretty sure everyone stopped caring about this story due to my lack of updates, which I'm truly sorry about. I think one big reason for my writer's block was that I didn't know how to continue this story but I also didn't want to end it. And then I finally started writing again and the end just came naturally. I honestly didn't start this chapter feeling like it would be the last one.

I still hope that if you subscribed, and read this last chapter, that you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.

And I do have ideas for new stories, I just don't know if I will have time to write (considering, yknow, this took me ages to update) If I do post a new one, I will make an update post here.