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His first year at Bullworth was probably the worst year of his entire life, and that says a lot—divorced parents and all.
Bullworth is the equivalent to the seventh ring of hell. Violence against neighbours, oneself, God, nature, and art? Yup, checks every box on the list.
Considering how widespread the terribleness of Bullworth was spoken about, one would think parents would stop sending their kids there. Bullworth makes girls lie that they live the town over on their MySpaces. They do it to avoid the cold-hard truth that they’re at the shittest school in the state, and probably the douchiest school in the country.
As of today, it’d been a year since Jimmy and Gary smashed through floors of weakened steel—covered in rust—and the glass roof of the Headmaster’s office.
Jimmy remembered the way his heart dropped when he looked over at Gary, a moment of fear that the other had died from the fall. He remembered the relief when he heard a groan from Gary. And he remembered the pride he felt as he untied the Headmaster from the chair, dragged Gary—facedown—across the floor, and listened as the Headmaster expelled Gary and dismissed Jimmy from every false accusation.
Since then, everyone has snapped back into reality.
There’s no fixing the whole bullying problem in its entirety. No matter what, Bullies are still gonna trip Nerds, Jocks are still gonna shove kids in lockers, but it’s gotten better. There’s none of that taking over the school crap.
In the case someone does try to rise through the ranks to become the new “king” of the school, Jimmy just throws a punch and everyone shuts up about it.
And, yeah, even a year later people still bug him to solve all their problems. He’ll enter a room and there’s a group of people sending him off to do their dirty work. Furthermore, he’s still missing half his classes a day, getting busted by prefects—or worse, police—and failing his assignments. But, now he has a solid friend to spend his days with, and he can walk up to basically any girl—or decent guy—and get a quickie.
In summary, it’s fucking awesome.
Except … There’s something missing.
So, here he was at Happy Volts Asylum.
He’d been here a few times last year, sneaking out Johnny Vincent and Mr. Galloway (among various other small errands.) Since then, he had received request after request to come back here for one thing or another, but it’d always been a territory he had avoided; and, yeah, it was because of the rumours.
Ever since Gary Smith had gone and disappeared, rumours had popped up about what happened to him. Conspiracy after conspiracy, some more ridiculous than others, but there was only one that had any merit to it: he was admitted to the asylum.
Jimmy took a breath as he stared at the gates. “Here we go, I guess,” he muttered to himself.
Momentarily, his stomach twisted with an unfamiliar feeling, though he ignored it and got off his bike.
There was no going back now. He was already at the asylum, if he went back to the dorms now he’d just feel like a coward.
He planted his bike into the ground and then walked to the front gates.
The guard peaked over at him. “Whaddya need, kid?”
“I’m visiting someone.”
He gave Jimmy a look up and down before shrugging and opening the door.
Jimmy nodded curtly at him, walking through the empty courtyard.
He quickly made his way past the statue, walking through the main door that an employee held open for him, and entered the waiting area.
“Hey,” he said as he walked up to the guard behind the glass.
“For who?” the guard said, not even glancing up.
“Is there a Gary Smith here?”
The guard sighed, looking up at him. “Look, kid, I get it. You wanna be funny, but we’re tryna fix someone, not trigger them into causing more violence. You either get outta here or I’m calling the authorities.”
Jimmy’s face contorted in confusion. “What? I’m not tryna pull nothing, I swear.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.”
He narrowed his eyes at the guard. “Look, just tell him I was here—Jimmy Hopkins—If he tells me to fuck off, I’ll go,” he said. After a second he quickly added: “I promise.”
The guard clicked his pen, his face deadpan. “In what world would I do shit for another little prankster trying to be funny.”
“I’m telling you I’m not trying to be funny.”
The guard gave him one last look-down. He leaned back in his chair with a stern look and thinned lips. He shrugged in annoyance. “Okay,” he sighed.
Jimmy didn’t say anything in response. He stood back and watched as the guard stood and left into the other room.
When the door shut behind the guard, Jimmy sighed in relief. He stepped back and leaned against the cold, tiled wall behind him.
Gary was bound to send him off, he was sure of it. There was no fucking way Gary Smith would wanna see him after all this time, especially not after ruining the guys entire life. But still, a little glimmer of hope was in his heart.
The idea of seeing Gary again after all this time had been planted in his head by Zoe.
After Gary had gotten expelled, Jimmy had started dating Zoe. She had gotten over her whole attraction to old guys and junkies, requesting that Jimmy go on dates with her and exclaiming that they were in love with each other. Unfortunately, Jimmy was a player, what can he say?
So, yeah, she caught him cheating and broke up with him for good.
But every now and then he would catch her in the halls, whilst she was in a good mood, and they would speak. They’d talk about anything of interest: music, arts, their dreams and hopes, life, and, well, the past.
She’d been joking, obviously—about Gary.
“Imagine the look on his face. Jimmy Hopkins, one year later, standing right in front of him.”
Her face crinkled, snorting in amusement at the concept.
But Jimmy hadn’t been laughing, no, he was thinking.
The guard walked back in the room, this time on the other side of the glass, where Jimmy was. Jimmy quickly pushed his lips into a thin line, very quickly understanding.
“He tell me to screw off?”
The guard scratched his neck. “Think again. You’re, uh, one of the few he hasn’t sent off actually.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Guy even tells his mom off, but you …” The guard paused, looking puzzled as he stared at Jimmy. “Just follow me,” he said after a moment.
Jimmy followed behind the guard closely.
The halls were just as—if not more—dirty than they had been last year. The walls had years of filth stuck to them. Dirt and mysterious splotches covered the wall, sunken deep into the crevices. The ceilings were covered in dirt and mould, and the floors were unswept, covered in gunk.
Each step he took, he could feel his runners subtly stick to the ground. With every lift of his foot, he could hear his sneakers pull from the ground, resisting the grime that wanted to capture his shoes.
He swiftly continued behind the guard, desperate to leave the halls.
From nearby rooms, he could hear the shrieks and cries of patients, loud drills barely covering up the pleas. The smell of death began to hit his nose, that kind of smell you smell when you're in an infirmary or an old person’s home. And the more time he spent checking each door they walked past, hoping to see a peak of Gary, the more he realized that the deep brown-red on each metal door wasn’t dirt.
So much for “happy.” This place was still a shithole a year later.
They came to a stop in front of a heavy metal door, rusted and covered in those same brown stains that looked like dry blood.
Copper filled his mouth as he bit his cheek. He watched as the guard stuck a key in the door, turning the door knob.
The door opened.
He rose on the tips of his toes, leaning over to look into the room when the door was only halfway open. He was desperate to see Gary as soon as possible.
The guard fully opened the door, taking a step back from the room.
Jimmy peaked in, his heart dropping.
Tunnel vision.
Everything around him blurred, turning into a big swirly mess that framed Gary right in the middle. Like candy to the eye, he was the only thing Jimmy could see.
Gary smiled, soft and small, looking mildly surprised—as if a visitor was the last thing he expected. He was wearing a blue hospital dress, gray sweats, and socks; he had bruises and bandages across his body, though his face was relatively clear; he looked absolutely exhausted, deep eyebags, pale skin, and messy hair.
Gary Smith looked far older than seventeen. His age would spend years catching up to his appearance, never quite getting there with every new wrinkle or gray hair he would get. Eighteen, twenty, thirty-two; always too far behind—always just looking a little too old, a little too broken.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” the guard said.
The guard’s voice hit him like whiplash, snapping him back into the present.
He continued: “I’ll just be out the door. Scream if you need help.” As the guard was closing the door, he paused, “scream extra loud if you need help.”
“Got it,” Jimmy said, his voice dry.
The door shut.
He turned back to Gary, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t thought this far; he hadn’t thought at all.
“Are you scared?” Gary asked.
He sounded the same. It was weird.
Jimmy shook his head slowly. His mouth was left dumbly agape as he spoke: “No.”
Gary smiled.
“Oookay …” Jimmy muttered to himself.
The room went silent.
With nothing to say, he looked around the room. The walls were covered in soundproofing, though the material looked visibly aged and dirty. The tiled ground clearly hadn’t been mopped in days, and the only clear spot was around the sink and the toilet. Thrown beside the small trash bin in his room were light blue slippers. In contrast to the rest of the room, they were clean and well taken care of.
Gary broke the silence, drawing back Jimmy’s attention. “You know, when the guard came in here, I was expecting another beatdown, not to hear ‘Jimmy Hopkins’ was asking to come visit me. What a surprise.”
“Yeah, whatever, man.”
Gary’s smile twitched. “This place is worse than Bullworth.” he said plainly. “Far worse. Did you know that, James?”
“Yeah, figured with all the screams and drills …” he trailed off.
“You sent me here.”
Jimmy swallowed. “I—”
Gary patted next to himself on the bed. “Come, sit.”
He hesitated, staring at the bed. It was small, barely big enough for one person, and built into the wall. Gary had a tiny brown blanket on the bed. It looked thin and frail, not enough to last the night in a cold asylum room.
Jimmy sat down as far from Gary as possible.
Gary closed that gap. “Why’d you come?”
“I don’t know.”
Gary laughed. “You don’t know? Pathetic.”
The silence between them was deafening. The room felt cold and quiet, empty like a void. Something was missing. It felt uncomfortable.
Jimmy could feel goosebumps rise on his skin, rippling across his body, raising even the hairs on the nape of his neck.
After a moment, he turned to Jimmy. “I think I know … You want to torment me, mock me. I failed, James. I know I did. Is that what you’ve come to hear after all this time? To hear me admit my defeat to you? I’ve said it!” he exclaimed, smiling.
Jimmy shook his head, looking away from Gary. He huffed, “no. You’re … you’re wrong.”
“Then why? Why James?”
“I don’t know.”
The facade he had been putting on snapped in an instant. Gary grabbed Jimmy’s shoulders, forcing him to turn and look at him. He leaned in, close and personal. With teeth baring and a quiet, low voice, he spoke: “You ruined my fucking life. I lost everything, all my plans gone in an instant. I spent months planning and detailing everything, and you fucked it all up.”
“I didn’t do shit, Gary. You tried taking over the school and I stopped you.”
Gary grabbed the collar of Jimmy’s shirt. “This uniform means nothing. You’re nothing! You’re just another trashy kid that got expelled trying to be all fucking cool!”
“And you’re messed in the head, Gary!”
Gary let go of his collar, staring down Jimmy. “You trapped me in this place. This hellhole.” He raised his arm. “You see these?”
“Yeah, I see them.”
“Bruises, Jimmy; they beat me, ridicule me, break me. I’ve become numb to all sorts of torture they put me through. And every night, no matter what, I stay up thinking of you and Pete.” Gary’s face softened, “oh, Pete …”
“Don’t you fucking dare bring Pete up,” Jimmy quickly said.
“I stay up at night thinking about you two and how you both FUCKED IT ALL UP!” Gary stood, pulling on his hair as he walked to the other side of the room.
He reached behind the toilet, pulling out a blade.
Jimmy’s eyes went wide, “woah, what the fuck man?”
“I found it lying around outside. The guards should really be more careful with their tools, but alas.” He pulled his eyebrows together. “It’s almost like they left it out just for me …” He stared at the knife, but didn’t point it. Thoughtfully, he hummed, “I could stab you.”
Jimmy could feel his heart pounding in his chest, beating so fast it felt like it was going to break right out of his body. “Put it down,” he said.
Gary broke his gaze from the small knife, staring through Jimmy.
“Kids like to come here … from Bullworth. The first time it happened was a month or two after everything. I guess word got out that I’d gotten locked up in the Psycho house. I hoped that it was you or Pete, hoping maybe I could get revenge on one of you. But you guys never showed up.
“Instead, punk after punk would come in here to start something. They’d make fun of me and mock me, pushing me until I did something that ended up with them on the floor and me being dragged outta the room to face the consequences.
“I never liked shock therapy.
“After the fifth kid they stopped letting people in. Except my mom, but I don’t wanna see her. And, well, everyone knows what happened to my dad; having your dad go to prison isn’t usually kept quiet.
“So, I’ve been laying in this room, roaming these halls, and pretending to be a part of that ‘The Watcher’ cult the freaks here started, all alone. They’ve put me on about a dozen different medications, I’ve overdosed twice, been threatened with jail time about three times, and I’ve had nightmares night after night without break.”
And finally Gary actually looked at Jimmy, really looked at him.
“You’re always in them. My nightmares. In fact, you're the centerfold! Round of applause for Jimmy Hopkins!” His smile fell. “It’s always that night on the roof, falling down—platform after platform—and crashing into the school. I remember every word you said as clear as day. I remember what you were wearing and what you sounded like. I remember the look on your face as we fell. I remember how I felt the world cave in when I realized I had failed.
“I hate you, James. I’ve never hated anyone more in my entire life.”
Jimmy took a breath in. He’d never heard Gary be so blunt about something. Typically he would pull you in circles, lying and toying with you. He’d never been so straightforward.
With his chin stuck up, Jimmy said: “Yeah, well I don’t particularly like you either, Gary.”
“You don’t get it,” Gary whispered.
A wicked look was in his eyes. They were blown wide and dilated.
He continued: “It’s not just a dislike, not just hate. It's total detestation; despise. A hatred so deep I feel my blood boiling at even the mere thought of you.
“I’ve spent an entire year coming up with ways to destroy your life, your entire bloodline, and everything you’ve ever known. I’ve made plans to tear you down from that high horse, ruin your life like you ruined mine. Yet, every time I fall and pull you down with me, you stand up and I can’t! Because here you fucking are! At my fucking door, in my damn prison, knowing you can walk out a free man and I can’t! And now you pretend you have even an ounce of the hate I have for you?”
Gary laughed as he shook his head. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed out through grit teeth. He walked forward.
As he cornered Jimmy on bed, he leaned close. Each breath was shared between them in the compact space.
“And now …” he whispered, “you’re sitting here, all dolled up.” Gary flicked Jimmy’s ear which was adorned with three new piercings. “I wonder what I should do to you.”
“The guards right outside.”
“Those guards let me beat a kid into a hospital bed.”
Jimmy glared at Gary.
“Don’t be so angry,” Gary teased. “You’re the one who came all this way. And for what? What did you expect?”
“Change.”
Gary grinned, “oh, I’ve changed.”
“You’re just as sick as before.”
“I’m on meds now, Jimmy.”
Briefly, he was left confused, his eyebrows pulling together. Though, after a moment of thought, it clicked. Last year's events had only unraveled to the point they had when Gary had stopped taking his medication. So, if this was current Gary on medication …
He took a small breath in, huffing a laugh as he licked his lips. “You’re tough, huh, Gary? A real bad boy being naughty. You gonna start a new fucking holocaust when you go off the meds?”
“Art career wasn’t gonna happen anyway,” Gary quickly shot back.
“You’re fucked up, Gary.”
“Mind-fucking-blowing information, Jimmy! We’re sitting in my Hell: a goddamn asylum that did an illegal lobotomy yesterday!”
“On who? You?”
“I’m not that insane.”
“Questionable,” he muttered.
“What was that?”
Jimmy stared at the blade in Gary’s hand. It was hard to see, darkened by their bodies that blocked the fluorescent light. Though, if he squinted, he could see the tip of the knife angled at the softest point of his stomach, almost grazing him if he breathed too hard.
“I’m not scared of you, Gary.”
“You should be.”
“I never was.”
Gary leaned forward as he pushed Jimmy down with his freehand.
Jimmy resisted, refusing to lay on his back. He placed his elbows behind him firmly, using the leverage to keep him from being pushed down.
Despite his resistance, Gary continued to lean down with the knife in hand.
Quickly, he began to realize how serious Gary was. The knife began to poke through his sweater and into his skin. The tip sank deeper into him every moment he refused to lie back, eventually until he could feel the blade begin to prod through layers of his skin. It wasn’t quite cutting through him, his fat and muscle protecting him, but a sharp, stinging pain began to strike, spreading through his abdomen.
Instinctually, he curled backwards to avoid the blade, but Gary still continued to press forward.
Jimmy laid down.
Gary straddled his lap. He raised his arm in the air, gracefully tracing the knife through the air as if he was drawing a picture. His grip was loose and flimsy, like he could drop the knife at any moment—both by accident or purpose—right onto Jimmy. He had a big, stretched grin on his face like the Cheshire cat, looking down at Jimmy like his next victim to toy with.
They both knew damn well why the guard had told Jimmy to scream extra loud. And they both knew no matter how loud he screamed, the guard wouldn’t come.
“I’m gonna kill you.”
Jimmy stared at Gary. “I don’t believe that.”
Gary raised an eyebrow.
Hesitantly, Jimmy raised his hand towards Gary. He could try to shove him away, pray that the door was unlocked and he could run out; or he could try to disarm Gary, risk his life for a small chance at getting the knife out of Gary’s grip; or …
Jimmy curled his ring and middle finger into his palm loosely, facing the back of his hand to Gary—to show he wasn’t making an attempt at grabbing the knife from Gary. He maneuvered his arm to curl to the left, opposite to the knife, lifting his fingers up to run through Gary’s hair.
Gary tensed, though his eyes stayed locked on Jimmy and he made no attempt to interrupt what was happening.
“When’d you last cut it?” Jimmy asked. “Your hair.”
“Last week.”
Jimmy snorted, “no way.”
Gary flushed, his face reddening. “I do it myself,” he muttered quickly in defense.
“It doesn’t look bad.”
“Yeah, well a year of cutting hair gets you pretty alright,” he said, sounding a little more prideful.
“When’s the last time your mom came around?”
“Few months ago.”
Jimmy’s eyebrows raised. “What? Why?”
“You think she wants to see her son? Her son that’s been sent to a psych ward?” Gary spat out.
“Guess not,” he mumbled.
“Definitely not.” Gary was quiet for a long moment, before finally he added: “she said she’d come by next week for my birthday though.”
Jimmy nodded. “That’s nice.”
“I guess.”
“Why’s your dad in prison?”
Gary looked surprised. “You don’t … know?” he asked slowly.
“Not until you brought it up.”
He looked at Jimmy, blinking. “Oh.” He licked his lips. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Okay.”
Jimmy dragged his hand down, scraping his nails lighting against Gary’s scalp until he could hold Gary’s face. He brushed his thumb next to Gary’s eye, “where’d you get the scar?”
Gary’s eyes narrowed. “Asking a lot of questions, yeah?”
“Jeez, sorry,” Jimmy muttered. He felt his heart skip a beat, he knew he had to be delicate about this—if he wanted to live that was. “Ask me something then.”
“Like what?”
“Whatever you want. I’ll answer.”
They fell in silence as Gary thought. He continued to trace the knife in the air, though less in a way that actually felt like a threat, and rather as if it were a toy.
It was strange to see how Gary had changed, and how he hadn’t. Though his voice remained the same—same pitch, tone, and cracks when he laughed—he communicated differently. His face, while still of course looking like Gary, had aged far beyond what was expected in a year. His hair, kept relatively as it used to be, couldn’t be precisely cut or styled—it looked longer and a mess. Furthermore, whatever they’d done to Gary had taken a toll on him. Jimmy could count the grays in his hair for hours.
As Gary looked back at him, his lips opening as he prepared to speak, Jimmy looked at him. The boy he had been chasing after back then was now confined, with nowhere to go, in a box. Living as remnants of what he used to be in a rugged bedroom he probably thought of as his home. Jimmy almost felt bad.
“How big is it?”
Jimmy blinked. “The fuck? Not that!”
Gary laughed, “you said anything.”
“Whatever, you know what I mean.”
He clicked his tongue. “Didn’t answer.”
Jimmy pulled his hand from Gary’s face. “Big enough, asshole.”
Gary grinned. He took his hand from out of the air, resting his arm and the knife he continued to hold onto on the bed next to him.
Jimmy felt his body relax, and his heart steadied to a regular pace. He was thankful to no longer have to stare at the potential tool of his demise hanging in the air above him, waiting to drop and stab whatever part of his body it managed to hit.
“How’s Pete?” Gary asked.
“He’s good. Head of the school.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup,” Jimmy said with a smack of his lips before poking at his cheek with his tongue.
“Zoe?”
Jimmy took a sharp breath in as he looked to the side. “Didn’t work out.”
“Why?”
Jimmy huffed as he smiled, “you know why, don’t play with me. I’m not exactly known for being exclusive.”
“You’re a player, huh? Tsk, tsk. You’re a naughty boy, Jimmy.” Gary mocked with a smirk.
“Shut up man.”
“What? She catch you in the stalls with Eunice?”
“No.” Jimmy scrunched his nose.
Gary continued to stare at Jimmy, clearly waiting for further details.
“I made out with Gord …”
Gary scowled, “a prep? You haven’t changed, moron.”
“You know about that?”
“I know everything.” He paused, “except everything that’s happened since I’ve gotten locked up in here.”
Before the intense air from before could come back, Jimmy snorted. He smiled at Gary like they were best buddies. “Sure missed a lot.”
“Shut up, manwhore.”
Jimmy furrowed his eyebrows. “Manwhore?” he asked.
“Am I wrong?”
“I don’t make out with everyone.”
“You tried to get with Ms. Phillips.”
“Like you wouldn’t.”
Gary scrunched his nose.
“I still don’t make out with everyone.”
“Yeah?” Gary snorted.
And that's when when Jimmy saw it. It was small, hardly noticeable, but it had caught Jimmy’s eyes nonetheless: Gary’s eyes, though momentarily, had flicked down to his lips.
He paused, considering why the motion had stood out so much. Considering their conversation’s topic, it wasn’t unusual for Gary to look at his lips for just a brief moment, but …
Jimmy raised his hand again, snaking it around to cup the back of Gary’s head.
He flinched, but didn’t stop Jimmy.
“Just say you’re jealous,” Jimmy muttered, smirking slightly. He intentionally let his gaze drag from Gary’s eyes, down to his lips. They were dry and cracked.
“What?”
Jimmy locked back onto his eyes, “I said just say you’re jealous.”
“As if,” he scoffed. “You’re not all that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m king of Bullworth, and you’re stuck in this shithole.”
“Fuck you,” Gary hissed.
In the corner of his eye, he saw as Gary tightened his grip on the blade’s handle, lifting it from bed just enough to be worrying.
Jimmy swallowed. “I came here because something was missing.
“I’ve spent the last year hanging out with Pete and all these other acquaintances I have. All the girls in the school like me, even Zoe still kisses me even if she caught me cheating and broke it off. And nobody messes with me. The second someone tries to pull something—start up a fight, escalate something, try to take over—once I intervene, it’s done with. No one can beat me in a fight, not Russel, not Edgar, not Ted, not no one. I’m the Daddy of the fucking school. I’m the best!
“But … something’s still off … I guess; been off. Ever since you’ve been gone, everyday has been a loop. Like some sort of endless summer. Even as the months pass, everything feels the same. Everyday is a constant cycle of getting up, and running around school and town, doing dumb errands that lead to nothing.
“It’s like you were the only thing that made any long lasting impact. New year, new people, less of the idiots that participated in the shitshow that happened last year. Yet, nothing’s happened. Everything is the exact same as last week, and the month before.
“So … I came here.”
Gary stared at him. “And now what?”
“I dunno,” Jimmy muttered. “I never fucking know. I just do shit and hope it works out. You were right back then. I’m like a puppet, but dumber. I believed all those stupid, obvious lies you told, just like everyone else. I was pulled along, doing your dirty work, and all I could do was hope it worked out in my favour if I punched people hard enough.”
Gary dropped the knife. He leaned down to Jimmy, bringing both his hands to cup Jimmy’s face. “I still hate you,” he whispered.
Jimmy swallowed, his mouth agape.
The tips of their noses were touching.
“I know,” Jimmy whispered.
Gary continued: “I hate your ugly face. You look like a pug. I hate the way you talk. You go around thinking you’re the best, but you’re not. You’re a moron. I hate you for what you did to me. I was publicly humiliated in front of the whole school, and then after doing that, you got the satisfaction of dragging me away and trapping me in this place. I won’t ever get out, not until they’ve drugged me up on everything they can, all to convince the state I’m safe to walk the streets again. I hate you. I hate you so much I don’t know how to function.”
Jimmy stared at Gary’s lips, mindlessly nodding along to whatever Gary was saying. “I don’t like you all too much either,” he said breathlessly.
Gary huffed out a breath of laughter, “you don’t get it, James—”
“It’s not just a dislike,” Jimmy whispered, completing his sentence.
“God, you’re annoying,” Gary muttered.
Gary grabbed Jimmy’s collar, pulling him up harshly. Their foreheads slammed together as their lips connected.
Jimmy tried to pull back. The pain was unexpected, and his first reaction was to get away from it. He wanted to shove Gary away from him and onto the floor, recover from the hit and then deal the very same damage back to Gary. He wanted to kick Gary whilst he was on the floor, beat him until he was bloody and red was spilled into a puddle behind him. Jimmy only knew how to fight violence with more violence.
But Gary didn’t let go. He grabbed the back of Jimmy’s head, forcing him to stay close. Then, he reached behind him where Jimmy held his head. He wrapped his hands around Jimmy’s, forcing his hands to stay where they were.
He was locked in place.
Gary continued eating him alive, licking and biting into his face. He moved his lips against Jimmy’s without a care for any mess they made. He kissed Jimmy like it was an alternative to killing him, a close enough substitute to the act of stabbing him repeatedly in the stomach.
Their teeth banged together, tongues scraped against teeth, and lips were chewed on until they bled. They opened and closed their mouths against each other, desperate to get closer—farther? It didn’t matter.
Saliva drooled out of their mouths, spilling in between them. It made a sticky mess of their chins and dampened their shirts.
It was messy and gross. It was the very opposite of what could be defined as romantic and the definition of pure-hatred that could never be solved with a murder case, and instead needed to be something more; something indescribable and impossible.
With every disgusting moving of their lips, hips, anything, Jimmy was left counting his seconds. The air was thin, perhaps not even there. It was hard to tell if he could even breathe at all, but he knew whether he could or not didn’t matter, each second was a counter for when he inevitably passed out.
He squirmed, digging his fingers into Gary’s hair and pulling, kicking his feet against the ground. He pulled his body as far from Gary as possible. He needed air, and Gary wasn’t going to let him have air.
He could feel Gary smile against his lips.
Jimmy opened his eyes, watching as Gary lifted his hand and covered Jimmy’s nose.
Gary licked into his mouth again, blocking now every source of air.
He could feel his heart rate slow. Nice and steady, each thump loud and deep in his chest.
His ears rang. Screams from patients, creaking of the weak bed, buzzes from bugs: all combined into one single sound as if each sound meant nothing, defined in a singular ring of his looming demise.
His vision black. Fuzzy and indescribable. Shapes only defined by the moving lighter or darker black splotches.
He was left feeling, experiencing what it meant to be kissed and touched by Gary Smith. He felt every touch, every kiss, every nip at his skin.
He was going to die like this.
.
.
.
Then Gary pulled back.
In a split second, everything was back.
He was blinded by the sudden burst of colours, his head pounded from both the lack of air and sudden intensity of sound, and his heart thumped hard and loud.
He was gasping for air, coughing after every deep breath he took in.
Gary continued to straddle him. He sat atop Jimmy, watching in amusement as Jimmy desperately caught his breath and coughed.
He surely looked a mess.
Jimmy took one more deep breath of air before finally regulating his breathing. He stared at Gary, taking each breath for granted as he waited for him to speak.
But Gary didn’t speak at all. He simply stared back at Jimmy, smiling with those blown-wide, dilated eyes. It was mocking.
Slowly, Jimmy lifted his hand. He wiped his nose, looking at the mess now on the back of his hand. There was a mix of saliva and blood smeared across his hand. As he scrunched his nose, he could feel more blood spill from his nostrils.
He glanced back at Gary who continued to watch him. He narrowed his eyes at Gary, grabbing his hospital dress and pulling him downwards.
“I hate you,” Jimmy hissed out of his teeth.
“You don’t,” Gary grinned. He leaned in and kissed Jimmy again. “But I hate you,” he said as he pulled back.
Jimmy grabbed Gary’s hair, tangling his fingers into it. He kissed Gary again.
“You were right,” Gary gasped as Jimmy tugged him back by his hair.
Kiss.
“I was never going to kill you.”
Kiss.
“If I did that—”
Bite.
“I could never truly destroy your life like you have mine.”
Kiss.
“You’re going to suffer—”
Smack.
“On my accord.”
Bite.
“You’re the worst thing to ever happen to me.”
Knock.
“Times up!” the guard yelled.
Jimmy broke their kiss, looking up at Gary. His breaths were heavy and quick.
“I think I love you,” Jimmy whispered.
Gary’s eyes crinkled as he smiled; a real smile.
It was beautiful. Gary was beautiful.
He slipped off of Jimmy, sitting right where Jimmy had found him in the first place. He sat, with his head turned so he could watch as Jimmy stood and cleaned himself up. He said nothing, simply watching every motion Jimmy made.
Jimmy fixed his collar, hiding the bites and hickies across his neck and shoulder. Then, he looked right back at Gary, waiting.
“Goodbye, James,” he said.
“Nothing is the same without you,” Jimmy pleaded.
Gary stared, that same smile stuck on his face. “Goodbye, James,” he said once more, as if he was automated to have no other response.
“Happy early birthday, Gary.”
Gary stared.
He didn’t need to speak. Jimmy knew the response. He knew what it meant. He had fallen into yet again another one of Gary’s traps. This time it was love.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
Gary’s grin grew just a little bigger.