Fading

Foreword:1

1. Disclaimer: Fanfic. Not mine. From 'Bracelets' by MalevolentWreck. More on that in author's note, which you are now obligated to read.2

2. Warning: Tense weirdness. But it's supposed to be like that… Past tense=past; Present tense=present, relatively. Okies?? 3

3. also, -italics-.4

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ 5

They are screaming; both Elliot and his mother, almost as if they are competing to see who is the loudest except for the fact that he does not care who wins. His stereo, volume high, and the things he moves carelessly with his hands only add to his own noise, but mother's voice refuses to forfeit the match even though she is on the other side of the locked door. 6

He's hunting for something with a frantic need, pushing through belongings and throwing down the CDs on his shelf like they don't matter. Almost nothing is safe from his careless search – only one thing is intact until he finds what he is looking for…7

His hands close around dirty razorblades, and he almost dies from relief. 8

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ 9

He was almost asleep when Ian's cell-phone rang. 10

"Shit."11

Ian's arms tightened around the boy, pulling him closer to his bare chest. The rainbow-coloured bracelets on his left wrist were cool on Elliot's back.12

"That's probably dad, wondering where I'm at."13

Elliot started to move from his place and was stopped partway. 14

"No, you're fine." Ian pointed to a pair of jeans next to the bed just as the phone rang again.15

"Just hand me those, will you?"16

"Yeah…"17

Elliot reached over the side of the bed, one arm still wrapped lazily around Ian's body. The phone rang again as he handed the pants to him. As Ian struggled to untangle them it chimed once more.18

He twisted a pocket out enough to get the phone, trying to answer the thing before it stopped ringing. He flipped it open just after its final tone and held it to his ear.19

"Hello?"20

The other line was dead, and once he read the screen…21

ONE MISSED CALL22

…he cursed gently, sighing.23

"He'll probably phone your house now."24

Elliot shifted on his stomach, now mostly awake and watching Ian intently.25

"…Sorry."26

"Not your fault," he pointed to the pants that had found their way back to the side of the bed.27

"Maybe if I had kept them straight when they came off…" 28

Elliot raised an eyebrow and Ian scoffed.29

"Okay, maybe it is your fault.”30

Not that he had minded much…31

Ian swung his leg from under the covers and Elliot regretfully pulled off him. As he searched the floor for items of previously unneeded clothing, Elliot studied the smooth curve of his back and watched as his lean, athletic legs disappeared into his jeans.32

"What?"33

"…Can't believe you're leaving."34

Ian frowned, almost-pouting.35

"It's not forever. I'm coming back in summer, and I'll always call."36

He waved the cell phone to accent his words; fly undone and t-shirt in his hand.37

"Won't be the same." 38

Elliot moped.39

"Of course not." Ian pocketed the phone and pulled on his top.40

"Ian!"41

He smirked and sat on the bed, leaning over until his and Elliot's noses were almost touching.42

"I'm gonna miss you…"43

He closed the distance between them.44

Ian's kisses were claiming and deep. Elliot nearly melted as Ian's thumb leisurely stroked his waist in a way that sent a slow heat to his inner thighs. 45

All of a sudden he was gone and Elliot was left slightly puzzled and grasping.46

"I…"47

Ian slid his bracelets from his arm and grabbed Elliot's hand. 48

"Here," Ian slipped them, one at a time, onto his wrist. "They're so you'll always remember me."49

"But I'd never forget you!"50

"Okay. They're… um… so you'll love me forever?"51

"I -do- love you forever…"52

"Fine. Just take them, okay? I want you to have them, y'know? Because I want to stay with you, and if I can't, then I guess that these…"53

"…But they're yours."54

"Not anymore."55

"They're special."56

"So are you."57

Elliot knew that was a lie, but he couldn't argue with the person he loved…58

His mother shouted up the stairs again.59

"Ian, your dad called! He wants you at the door in three minutes!"60

"Thank you!" Ian shouted back and Elliot started.61

He turned towards him, expression almost unreadable enough to be serious.62

"I love you."63

"Ian…" 64

He stood and Elliot grabbed the hem of his shirt.65

"Don't go!"66

Ian leaned back over to kiss him, even though there wasn't quite enough time for one as deep as before. He pulled back to look at Elliot for a moment before kissing him (again!) on the cheek and tugging on a stray strand of brownish hair.67

"Grow this out." 68

"No way!"69

Elliot recoiled, bringing his hands up to shield his head from Ian's gentle yanking.70

"I'll get made fun of."71

"No way," Ian mocked him.72

"It's sexy."73

Elliot lowered his eyes, blushing.74

"I wanna see it nice and long when I come back….so I can run my fingers through it."75

Elliot found Ian's hand on the bed next to him and squeezed.76

"…You could do that now, if you wanted."77

Ian decided to kiss him instead.78

The voice of Elliot's mother interrupted them:79

"Ian, your father's here!"80

Ian broke the kiss and was gone before Elliot even had time to open his eyes.81

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ 82

It's been ten months since Ian's left and he hasn't cut it yet. Sometimes the boys at school pull it to get his attention or grasp it tightly in their fists to keep his head still. His mother makes off-colour comments and drops less-than-veiled hints that it's getting too long for his gender.83

If Ian was here he would brush it aside and ask him how he had gotten the odd bruises on his mouth and neck. If Ian was here, he'd have a wonderful concerned expression and he'd start walking Elliot to his classes again with a possessive arm around his waist – his social status and cool stare barely protecting them both.84

If Ian was here he’d flirt and smile, and say half-joking, but mostly serious things about how Elliot’s hair was just long enough to hide hickeys that he’d give him during lunch time, hiding out together on the drama-wing steps.85

But he isn't here, and he wouldn’t ever be here, so Elliot would have to be content with his memories and the shoulder-length strands that hung around his neck and into his eyes – one last quiet testament to an amazing boy who everyone else had forgotten.86

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ 87

He sat on his bed against the wall, the phone pressed between his right shoulder and his ear. His left sleeve had crawled high above the bracelets to his elbow and he was idly tracing the three new scars on his arm.88

"Guess my name and I won’t have to steal your soul," the telephone-voice said, purposely making its voice low and demonic.89

"Ian."90

"How did you know?" He laughed, voice rising to its normal sound.91

"You -always- sound like that." 92

He could hear him grinning on the other end.93

"So... how's that hair coming?"94

"It's down to my chin now, about."95

And people -did- make fun of it, thank you very much.96

"Okay… I'm gonna ask you how school is. Not because I'm stuck for topics, but because I really wanna know."97

"It's shit."98

A thumbnail caught under a recent scab and pulled. 99

"…What part?"100

"All of it."101

Ian was quiet for a moment.102

"What is it? Teachers, grades?"103

"No…" Elliot whispered, almost inaudible; and–104

"…It's everyone else."105

The silence came back again, and for a moment Elliot though he had gone.106

"Ian?"107

"Yeah, I'm here,"108

"'S just like before you came… sometimes they hurt me. Sometimes they –"109

He wiped away blood that had pooled on his arm.110

"…God."111

"Ian?"112

"I shouldn't have left you."113

"Did you have a choice?"114

"El…"115

Elliot sighed heavily, trying to hide the tears that had made their way into his voice.116

"I miss you."117

"…I miss you, too."118

"Ian, I love you."119

"I love you, too."120

"More than -anything-."121

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and when Ian spoke again, he was suppressing a grin.122

"Anything? Does anything have to include chocolate fudge brownies and ice-cream?"123

Elliot choked back a sob and shuddered. His fingers were marked with blood from his arm, worried under the pressure of his hand.124

"Ian," he murmured tearfully; "Ian, Ian…"125

"Oh, shit…" 126

"Ian… I want to be with you. You're so far away…"127

"I'm sorry. Please don't. Please…"128

Blood slid between the beads of the bracelets and down his fingers, spotting the bed sheets.129

"Fuck," he wept.130

"Elliot?"131

He tried with his right hand to wipe off the sheets, but only succeeded in smearing blood across the pale fabric.132

"El, are you okay?"133

"Nooo…"134

He moved the hand to cover his wrist and nearly dropped the phone.135

"Elliot, what are you doing?"136

"Nothing."137

He took the phone with his left hand and staunched his arm with the right.138

"…I'm bleeding."139

"What happened?"140

“Noth –”141

Elliot looked up as someone knocked at the door, nearly dropping the phone.142

"Nothing."143

"Someone hurt you…"144

The knock came again, and this time his mother shouted– 145

"Elliot, I need the phone!"146

"Elliot –" Ian pleaded.147

"Who hurt you?"148

He shook his head, forgetting that Ian couldn't see him from the other side.149

"Elliot?"150

"The phone, Elliot!"151

"Ian?"152

"Yeah?"153

"No one hurt me."154

"I need the phone!"155

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to sort out his thoughts and the voices.156

"Elliot?"157

"Sorry… mother needs the phone."158

"El, who–?" 159

Then, from mother again - 160

"Don't you ignore me!"161

"Was it her?"162

"I will -break- this door down!"163

Empty threats. But there was no way he could keep up a conversation with – 164

"Was she the one who hurt you?"165

Maybe she -could- break the door down. It was shaking so badly on its hinges, and with all of her incessant knocking…166

"Who, mom?"167

"Yeah."168

"No!"169

"Then who–"170

Was she -kicking- it?171

"I'm sorry! She needs the phone!"172

"Elliot!"173

He glanced at the door, his arm…174

The bracelets.175

"I did."176

"…What? You–"177

"Yeah, I'm sorry…"178

"Elliot, you–"179

"No, no…"180

And his mother again:181

"I want the fucking phone!"182

"Ian, I need to go. I love you…"183

He said something back, gentle and pleading, but his words were swallowed up by the noise. 184

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ 185

He wishes his mother didn't yell at him so much before school. He'd rather have the echoes of someone else’s voices in his head in stead of having the memories of her cruel words chiming in with the harsh voices and quick fists that would meet him at school.186

If she has to, he prefers that she find something else to pick o him for than the money he spends on the arm warmers and bracelets that he starts to wear every day. Usually he wonders what she would think if he tells her that he hadn't bought the bracelets, and sometimes he imagines what her face would look like if he did decide to tell her where (and who) exactly they were from.187

He can imagine her, shocked, then wondering how the hell she couldn't have noticed with -that- boy and no girls coming over all the time. She would be mad enough to all and rant to one of her best friends, or even one of her exes. She would be mad enough to hit him, if she cared.188

Sometimes he wonders what she would do if she knew what was under the arm warmers.189

He can imagine her:190

"I hope you didn't get any blood on the sheets."191

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ 192

The phone ringing in the living room was shockingly harsh compared to the stillness that had been there only moments before. No one, however, was present to stop its noisy summons. 193

Elliot's mother had work and came home at about six o'clock most evenings, unless she decided she didn't want to make dinner and picked up takeout instead.194

Elliot would have been home himself, except for that fact that he was currently in the middle of the change room floor, hiccoughing blood and trying to sort out his arm. 195

The phone range once more and the answering machine picked it up with a beep.196

"Elliot?" The phone said, its voice a deep, unfamiliar croak.197

"It's Jack, Ian's dad… you're on his speed dial, so I called you too. Uh…198

"I, ah, remember you from the old place. You used to come over all the time, and when you weren't there, Ian'd talk about you all the time… The sad thing is, it took me a while to catch on that you guys were -together-…"199

Here, his voice cracked and there was a snuffling shuffle at the other end.200

"But… he loved you so much, and you… you are – you gave him some of the most important things… the most important memories…201

"I'm sorry I have to tell you this. I'm so sorry… you were the first person I called after family…202

"Yesterday night Ian was hit by a drunk driver. They… they tried everything they could, but the car was going so fast… fucked him up so bad, he couldn't even talk…"203

There was another shift – he was probably wiping is eyes; struggling not to sob into the phone…204

"He died this morning, Elliot… so sorry. I can't believe– I'm so sorry. I'm so–"205

There was a high beep as the message was cut short.206

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ 207

Sometimes Elliot is cold way down inside, down where it counts. No matter what happens, nothing moves him. No matter what they do he feels nothing but a vague sense of detachment, and faint pity for himself because he cannot feel. Then he remembers that there is nothing left in the world that he would want to have touch him, and the pity disappears, too.208

Sometimes he can say Ian's name and feel nothing, too numb to care. 209

Now isn't one of those times. Right now it hurts. Right now it makes him weep with the injustice of it. Why did Ian have to go? Hell, why is -he- the one to stay? Why does he have to remain here, with the anger and hate looking to crush him and regret and self-loathing tearing him apart from the inside? 210

He knows he doesn't belong here – not anymore. Not with a mother who only cares when it suits her and a school full of people who only care when they feel like breaking him some more. 211

He belonged here when Ian was here, and once he left…212

He doesn't exactly remember how the gun comes to be in his hands, nor does he remember the last time it had been cleaned or checked for bullets. He remembers how to click the safety off and to pull back the hammer, and he knows that the roof of his mouth is a lot softer than the rest of his skull.213

He swallows the bullets like pills, and except for the exact dosage and the mess they make, they are the same in the way that they leave him cold and fading on his bedroom floor.