Eremophobia, fear of being oneself or of loneliness. Based loosely off the song My Own Worst Enemy by Blink-182. This seemed really stiff to me somehow... Maybe because I can't see Kenny hitting Kyle.
Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty. ~Mother Teresa
I found him sitting in the kitchen, an ice pack pressed firmly to his cheek. He was sitting on the counter, absently kicking the cabinet beneath him, and his eyes were downcast. "Babe..." I sighed, voice hoarse. His eyes -gorgeous emerald orbs that still made my heart flutter just a little- flickered up to me and brightened. Immediately, he hopped up, grabbing me a glass if water and an ibuprofen and pushing them into my hands.
My conscience was screaming at me to just let myself suffer but I knew it would upset him if I didn't take the pill. I placed it on the back on my tongue and gulped down the entire glass rapidly, the biting cold of the water stinging my throat pleasantly and chilling me all the way down. I could feel his eyes on me and a self-oriented hatred bubbled in my chest, making me shut my eyes tightly. I set the glass down slowly, opening my eyes to examine his face. He was staring at his free hand, resting in his lap, the other busy holding an ice-pack to a no-doubt nasty bruise.
Stepping in front of him, I rested my palms on his knees, rubbing carefully. He glanced up at me with a sad smile and I lowered my eyes shamefully. God, I don't know what I would do without him. I shuddered at the thought... All alone. No Kyle because I don't deserve him and no friends because they'd love him more and go with him.
"Can I see?" My voice broke a little and I cleared my throat awkwardly. He nodded slowly and I noted belatedly that his eyes were red. Fuck. I made him cry... Again. Cautiously, searching my eyes, he moved the concealing, soothing ice, revealing a dark, swollen bruise approximately the size of my fist across his jaw. My eyes clenched shut and my hands fisted painfully tight where they rested on his thighs.
"Babe..." I sighed again, eyes pricking with tears. I fucked it all up. I'm going to be alone and sad and-
His hands cupped my face gently and I slid my eyes open to meet his loving gaze. "You were drunk." he rationalized irrationally. "It's not your fault."
Pushing forward to stand between his knees, I wrapped my arms around his middle, resting my forehead on his shoulder. "I shouldn'ta been drinkin', love." I whispered, accent thickening in my grief. I cleared my throat again.
"It's okay." he soothed. "It's okay."
I clung to him tighter, terrified of letting him stay here so I could punch him next time I get drunk, terrified of letting him leave me all alone. All alone. Forever. I sniffled a little, pulling back to look him in the eye. He reached up to carefully wipe away the tears I hadn't noticed were falling, catching the next set that spiraled down when I blinked. "Why do you lemme do this to you?" I demanded tearfully. "Why do you... Let me hurt you?" I tried to clear my voice when I realized I was pronouncing my 'you's yah.
Moving his hands to cup my face carefully, he pulled me forward to connect our lips for a lingering, tender moment. He didn't bother to pull away before speaking. "Because I love you, Kenny." he replied softly, with a tone that suggested that I should've already known. Maybe I should have.
"I promised..." he started after a moment, before tacking on, "Stan, Eric, and Ike said that next time this happened, they were killing you and forbidding me from seeing you, and made me promise to tell them immediately and... Leave." I flinched. I knew this was coming. My shoulders shook with suppressed sobs and I bite down hard on my lower lip. Alone. Lonely. By myself.
But his words weren't the ones I should have heard. "So I can't leave the house until this heals up, okay? You'll have to cover for me at the shop."
I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. I wiped them away angrily, stepping away from the love of my life abruptly. "No!"
But I didn't know what I was saying no to. He could tell I didn't know, I think. "I'm sorry." I sobbed, spinning around and slamming my palms down on the counter, bowing my head deeply. I watched my tears bead on the countertop and shuddered violently.
Gentle hands caressed up and down my back, soothing over the tense muscles and tickling the sensitive space between my shoulder blades. "I forgive you." I heard. I wondered when he became so... So... Self-destructive. "I love you."
"I don't deserve you. I really don't." I muttered spitefully, ripping my digits through my hair tiredly. I wanted to tell him to leave, but I wasn't brave enough. I wasn't brave enough to face life alone, especially knowing that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't kill myself. All. Alone.
"I'll never touch alcohol again." I swore vehemently, valiantly. Vainly.
"Yes, you will." he pointed out, making me flinch. "But you'll learn. We'll learn. We'll get past it... Just like I'm trying to get past my temper and my OCD."
A crooked smile quirked my lips and I shook my head minutely. Trust Kyle to relate his Obsessive Compulsive Disorder to my alcoholism. "I love you, too." I responded belatedly.
"I know. Coffee?"
"Yes, please, dear."
Watching him start the coffee machine, gingerly caressing the mark on his face, humming pleasantly as he paced around the kitchen, I swore silently that I wouldn't hit him again. Yeah, I swore that the last time I hit him. And the time before that. And the time before that. And I promised anybody who would listen that I'd never raise my hand to him ever again the first time, but this time felt different. I'm staying sober this time. I'm not doing this again; I couldn't handle what would happen if he realized I was worthless. Hitting him won't help my case, and I don't want to be alone.
Later that day, I poured every drop of alcohol in the house down the drain.
I'm keeping Kyle.
So? What'd you think? OH! And DS, about your review of chapter six (Enissophobia)... I put Aniki in there instinctively because I based their relationship off of the one I have with my brother, and while I'm not foreign, I call him Aniki and he calls me Ochiba (Ochiba Sorairo, to be exact). Besides, Ike is a nerd. Why wouldn't he like Anime?
And to all seven of you who reviewed, you absolutely rocked my world. This is dedicated to you.
I want some more suggestions (sorry if you feel like I'm not taking them), and all promised stories are upcoming. I'm currently working on Parthenophobia, fear of virgins or young girls (iKenny) and Microphobia, fear of small things (Creek). ALSO! Working hard on the first chapter of Loving Cinnamon, so go read and review it! Also! A request? Go read Courtanie's newest story, Catoptrophobia, and review it. She's my favorite author on here... And I want the story to continue.
QUESTIONSM, COMMENTS, CONCERNS? REVIEW!