I can get strong if this is my reward.

If he is my reward. Laying here with him sleeping on my chest. Nothing separating our skin. Feeling his breath, hearing him sleep, smelling his scent, still able to taste his lips on mine. I can get better for this, for him. I think back to what he said right after, as I gently laid my body down onto his, hot panting and exhausted.

"Are you ok Irish?"

-chuckle- "I wouldn't be smiling this hard if I wasn't ok. How are you" I asked looking down into his eyes. I can't remember the last time his eyes looked so alive like this: so grey they almost look purple with specs of blue. Eyes that looked past the drugs and violence, the poverty and sadness, the bruises and scars; to the guy I wanted so badly to be. I roll over on my back bringing him with me. Its then that he says it, the thing that breaks my heart and makes me regret, and makes me want to gith all the harder.

"I'm ok... no I'm perfect. I haven't been this happy in so long. I've been so lost without you and I didn't even know it."

And with that exhaustion took him and he drifted off. An hour later here I am arms locked around him still awake. I feel weak and I'm starting to hurt. My muscles are beginning to quiver I know it's coming. It hurts to breathe now. " Fuck! Please God let me get through this, let me be... AHHHH!

Aidens Point of view


The scream, what a terrible scream. Where is it coming from? Who is screaming?

I wake up from my dream to realize its Irish screaming. He's so pale, the eyes that were shinning before I went to sleep are dead blue and we are drowning in his sweat. I start to panic; my brother never looked like this, not even at his worst. I jump off of him and run for the jug of water and a rag. I sit him forward as he wails and slide in behind him pulling him up to my chest. He's on fire, I didn't know a body could get this hot. I take the jug and pour water on us, I use the rag and wipe off his face, his body starts to convulse and I drop the jug on the floor. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tight trying to stop his trashing, but I'm not strong enough. I thrash with him as he involuntarily slams us into the wall... over and over again. I scream out, I scream his name, I scream for help. I'm crying, no I'm bawling, I can't stop it; my back is numb, I don't even feel it anymore. My arms are sore as my muscles scream in agony. My ribs and chest are one big bruise taking all his weight and working to try and lessen the impact. He lets out a wail of pain and his body sits all the way up as a mix of spit and blood fly from his mouth and then we slam hard into the wall.


My head hits the wall this time. The room begins to go dim and I feel sick like I might throw up. My eyes are heavy and everything is spinning. "No!" I won't pass out, I have to stay awake! I dig my nails into my arm as they wrap tighter around Irish and let the pain bring me back, I do it over and over again until I'm screaming as well. And like this we go on, him thrashing, me holding on to consciousness through pain and force of will and holding on to him for dear life. Time doesn't even register anymore, I don't know how long we have been here, but slowly the convulsions turn to tremors and then slowly the tremors stop and he takes small shallow breathes.

The clock reads 5:37am... its 5:37am and no one is home, no one is here to help me... no one is here to help him. My body is shot, I don't think I could move right now if the place was on fire. My spirit is broken, and my heart breaks more and more with every shallow breath he takes. He's dying. I don't know how I know, but I can feel it happening, I can feel him slipping away. I'm fading to; my grips on consciousness are fading fast. I search myself for some part in me that still has strength, that still has resolve and will, but everywhere I look is tapped dry. As I begin to lose hope my mind takes me to a memory. It's warm outside, I'm sitting outside my old middle school halfway through my first day of 6th grade crying my eyes out and suddenly I feel an arm go around my shoulders. I can't look up, I'm afraid... then a hands rest on my shoulder and squeezes. When I turn I see the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen. This was the first time I met Irish. I come back from my mind and look at Irish as I move the hair from his forehead, he is so pale. "Please don't go!" And with those words I drift way... it almost feels like his hand is gripping mine...

He's gone, I know he's gone I feel asleep and he slipped away. My eyes flutter open, and I can hear Irish breathing. I can hear him breathing, I focus and look down, down at his chest steadily rising and falling, I start to cry again, but we are not out of the woods yet; I pull all my reserves of strength together. I slowly move Irish off my chest, and lay him down to a grimace on his face. I slide off the bed and fall down hard pain shooting through my knees, but I stand. Grabbing onto the window ledge I stand up and open it. I turn back to him and look at the wall, it's all bloody and I know it's mine, but I don't care. Over the next hour and a half I slowly and painfully move around the room opening windows and turning on fans, I very painfully roll the sweat soaked sheet from under Irish and lay him back down on the fitted sheet underneath. I wipe his face and lay a cool towel on his forehead using the remaining water that didn't spill across the floor in the jug. I close the window to the side and then climb across the bed to close the window above his bed. I fall backwards catching myself only to collapse on the floor; an act that was tiresome the first time have nearly taken all my energy this time. I pant and wheeze my adrenaline is gone, and the shock is gone as my hands shake. The sun is up and shinning bright as the sounds of people getting ready to start their days comes drifting through and I wonder if we will ever make it out of this room.

A hand runs across my face and I fight to open my eyes to look up at Irish weakly looking at him. The tiniest of smiles peaks across his lips before exhaustion washes it way. My upper body is so exhausted that I have to use all the power in my legs to help me get onto the bed with him. I slowly lay my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It's strong and steady and I start to cry, I didn't know I could cry so much in one lifetime let alone one day. His hand rubs my aching arm as I can't hold out, and I succumb to injuries and emotions and exhaustion and fall fast to sleep saying a silent prayer for God to get us through this; for both of us to wake up.



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