{Luke} This Fairytale is Crippled

[francois simeon del roque.]

It was funny really, how much Francois got hurt. It always amused him to no end how his scars seemed to just be never ending. It was almost like every time he left his room he came back with a new wound. This wasn’t uncommon though, because it happened in France too; though in France it didn’t happen as often, and probably not as bad either. He didn’t understand why he was always getting so hurt. He didn’t know what was going on with him, why anything was happening to him; or simply how to stop any of it. He had dealt with bullies before, but never had he dealt with American bullies. They were worse than French ones. They were meaner. They were more vicious, and they were just all around terrible. He had dealt with kids on the football team, soccer team; hell even the lacrosse team, but never were they this bad in France. He could almost feel the blood boiling up in his mouth, and then he was coughing it all up. He could feel the bruises all forming on his stomach. He could smell the blood leaking wildly from his nose. He could sense the black and blue forming around his eye. It was just so hard to deal with it all. It was so hard to deal with much of anything anymore, but he did it. But that usually attainted to something emotional; not physical, and never as bad as this. Never had he felt the heel of a boot slam so hard into his stomach before out of pure hatred. Never before had he felt a punch connect with his jaw so much that he heard cracking. He had never experienced this. He had never felt any of this. He had never lived like this.

Then he was left there. Bleeding. Rotting. He was left to die he figured, but he refused. Francois was not done with life yet. He was not done with anything yet; and this is why he refused to die here, in the middle of the boys’ locker room. He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t let himself slip here. He wouldn’t ever let himself die in such a vile, horrid place such as this. But…but moving was hard. His wrist had been shattered…and it was healing…but now it wasn’t. Now it had been shattered again…now the pain had begun all over again. His vision was blurry as his fingernails dug into the ground and clawed at it, reaching up as he trembled immensely. They wrapped around the bench and yanked, and he let out a noise in pain. There was probably something wrong with his shoulder too, but he didn’t care; he had to get up, he had to survive. He pulled as hard as he could, dragging his body to the bench, letting his second hand move up to it as his fingers wrapped around, body aching as he pulled himself up. There were more moans of pain as he plopped himself down onto the seat, head falling back against the lockers.

He had to get the bathroom. He had to do something…anything to get this pain away; and he knew exactly how to do it. His hand traveled down to his backpack, gently fingering the small pocket on the side with his razor inside it. He was pushing himself again. His fingers wrapped around the cool metal, causing minor lacerations as he pulled it out with a small gasp. He struggled to shut the zipper of the bag, but did, and then he was pulling again. He stumbled to his feet, faltering within the aisle as he headed for the bathroom. He pushed himself into the bathroom before nearly collapsing next to the toilet. He had to do it and he knew it. He had to take this pain away. He had to get out. He had to numb himself. And so he did.

Minutes passed by like seconds, before finally the clank of a metal blade hitting the rim of a toilet could be heard. Francois’ hands dropped to the ground, blood leaking out and staining the stone beneath them. He was finally numb. He was finally cold. He couldn’t feel it anymore. He couldn’t feel anything anymore, and that was how he liked it. He reached up, grabbing the rim of the sink and hoisting himself off, stumbling once more. He took a long piece of paper towel and wrapped it around his right wrist. Then he took another long piece and did the same for his left. It was late, and he knew it. There was no sun out, and the moon shone through the locker room, giving him a dull source of light as he began to stumble away from the bathroom, flushing the toilet and his razor before leaving. He was holding the right side of his body, because that was where the worst bruise was. His steps were uneven and shaky, and his body teetered from side to side as he “walked” through the halls. The blood still seeped through the paper towels, but the boy shoved his sweatshirt sleeves over them to keep it concealed as he wobbled through the school. In a few minutes he reached the front of the school, and he was walking down the steps. The moon was full and shining brightly, illuminating Franny as he moved slowly away from the school.

His vision began to blur though, and soon his walking pace had become even more uneven. Before the boy knew it, he felt his knees hit the ground with a thump. Blood leaked out the right side of his mouth, and then his upper body fell forward, colliding with the pavement gently. His eyes began to shut slowly, only staying open halfway as blood leaked through his clothing, staining everything it came in contact with.

There was no fixing this mistake and Francois knew it.

[/size]

[luke anthony moreau]

luke had been late to practice which meant he had to clean up all the equipment after everyone had left. he hadn't planned on being late but he had gotten a call from one of the girls he had met at some house party over the weekend. turns out she didn't have work and she wanted to see if he was free. of course luke cleared up his schedule thinking he'd have enough time to spend with her and still make it to practice on time. he ended up going over to her place and hanging out for quite a while. though he made sure not to drink or to do anything that would cause his coach to be suspicious about what he was up too. though what he was up too was lots of fun and he was glad that he had gone off to see her. she was worth him having to stay after and make up for the time that he had missed. if luke had been a little more careful about his timing he probably would have been able to make it on time. but luke was never good with time so he ended up being half an hour late and his coach acted as though he had missed the whole damn practice. t

he was outside in the dark gathering the soccer balls into a large bag. luke hadn't planned on being here to late but his coach didn't care if he had plans or not. he was tired of luke constantly being late to practice and acting as though he didn't care if he was on the team or not. that was one of the reasons luke wasn't able to make captain this year because he wasn't responsible enough to lead an entire team. not that he wanted all that responsibility in the first place. even with the way he was acting luke was still one of the top plays on the team which was probably the only reason his coach didn't kick him off the team. as much as luke loved to play soccer he hadn't been really into it lately. he played just because he was use to always practicing and playing since he was a kid. it was the sport that his mother loved to watch with her dad so she ended up signing up. luke was a big reluctant at first but she was persistent and he soon came to love the sport as much as she did. still whenever there was a good game on television luke was talking to his grandfather about it.

it didn't take him long to get everything in the bag and he jogged back into the building dropping everything off. now all he had to do was take a quick shower and change. the locker room was completely empty which was a little creepy at first but luke didn't mind being alone in there. he grabbed a towel and made his way towards the bathroom. stripping he left his clothes on the floor while he took a quick shower. luke didn't spend too long in the bathroom just long enough to wash all the sweat off his body. once he was done he wrapped the towel around his body and went back over to his locker to change into clean clothes. once he was done luke rubbed the towel against his hair which was still dripping water here and there. grabbing his bag he took out his ipod and put the headphones in his ear. now he was pretty much ready to drive home and see what was going on for the rest of the night. the music blasted in his ears as he left the locker room and made his way towards the school's exit.

[/center]

[francois simeon del roque.]

Blood. There was always blood whenever Francois was involved with anything. It happened with almost everything, and as his blood leaked onto the floor he now fell motionless against; there was nothing new here. There was nothing alarming in the smell of rust that seemed to fill and penetrate the atmosphere all around. There was nothing new to the dull crimson that now decorated the pale floor like red garlands thrown over a cream colored wall. This was nothing new, and Francois knew it. He knew how to deal with blood, so why couldn’t he deal with this? He knew how to make himself feel better about his life all the time when he bled, but for some reason, for some unknown reason; now he could not. Now there just seemed to be an endless ache from the pit of his body that rose and fell into every fiber and limb of his being. It really wasn’t very assuring, but in the long run, what really was? The sinking feeling in his heart? The pain that fell over every single piece of himself? Was that what was supposed to make Francois feel better? What was supposed to do the trick? Was it hope? No, because hope was the thing that seemed to tear him apart from the inside out. Hope was the one piece of his life he did not trust, nor did he ever think he could trust again. Never again would he let himself be brought up by such false connotations of life such as hope, only to be thrown down into the dirt by the harsh and reddening slap of reality.

He wouldn’t let it happen with his life, and he certainly wouldn’t let it happen with Luke. He would never let himself hope for anything but a friendship with the boy, he simply could not allow it. Francois always did this to himself, and never again would he allow it. He would never allow himself to be torn up and destroyed over someone so insignificant and unimportant.

But here lies Francois’ dilemma. The boy isn’t insignificant. He isn’t unimportant. He is the opposite. Everything Francois does, is simply to excel for him. He dances for different purposes, and now he dances for Luke. He dances to probe he is not useless like his father said. He dances to prove to himself that he too, has a purpose in this world. He dances to be happy, but yet…yet he is not. He craves something more from life. He craves the thing Luke has. He craves the need to explore and spread his wings, whereas Francois does not. He simply dances and falls over and over again. True, he can get back up…but then he falls again. Each time, the falls get more and more painful, and each time it gets harder and harder to get up. Wound after wound after wound; it’s like an endless cycle. He watches the boy be happy. He watches him go around and sleep with every girl he feels like, and even though he will claim it is harmless and that it is meaningless; it is not for Francois. It is so painful for him. Every time he hears from a friend that Luke slept with someone, it is like a dagger is gouged into his heart and twisted. It hurt so much because he knows that won’t ever be him. He knows he won’t ever get to feel the warmth from Luke that these girls feel. He knows he won’t ever get to feel that feeling of completion, of happiness; because Luke won’t ever touch him. Francois knows what it feels like to be second best, and he’s so tired of, so bothered by it; that he gave up. He gave up the minute the cold metal blade sliced through his wrist, possibly a little too deep, and he gave up the minute the cold numbing feeling overtook his body.

He gave up the minute he realized he couldn’t win. He gave up the moment he felt a sob burn and rip through his chest when he found Luke in bed with a girl. It felt like Francois was dying. He was withering away, every day, a little bit more. Each time his name was spoken, it hurts just a little bit more. Each time a girl tells the tale of how he “banged” her, Francois bleeds a little bit more. He doesn’t show it, he won’t ever show it; but he does. Every time that name is put into a sentence that involves another girl it’s like a whole new wound is opened up, and now, now they cover Francois body. Inside and out, it’s like each wound gets deeper and deeper, and now he knows it’s going to end. He can feel the heat leaving his body. He can feel the blood rushing through his wrists, staining the cloth around them all too much until they are completely drenched and soaked within his accursed blood. In the end, Francois had given up, and just sat there, waiting to die.

Francois gave up the second he cut too deep.

Francois gave up the second an artery was severed.

[/size]

[luke anthony moreau]

luke was on his way to the door when he realized he needed one of his textbooks from his locker. even though luke wasn't a big fan of school he still did most of his work which was shocking to most people. as long as he got the grades his father normally just left him alone and let him do what he wanted. grades were the one thing he tried to be fatherly about and luke didn't want to deal with him so he just did what he had to in order to keep him off his back. his locker was luckily near the exit so he didn't have too take too much of a detour. reaching it he put in the familiar combination and watched as the door opened up. putting the book in his gym bag luke was pretty sure that he had everything he needed. he shook his head a little bit trying to get the excess water off wanting it to try quickly. closing his locker he went back on his way. walking back towards the exit luke had everything that he needed and he was ready to go home and just get to bed. opening up the door he jogged down the steps with his car keys in his hands.

walking away from the school luke noticed that there was somebody on the ground and that they weren't moving but there was blood everywhere. rushing over to them luke realized that the person was francois. so many questions were going through luke's head as he tried to figure out what had happened to the boy. finally reaching him luke slowly turning him around wondering if he was even still alive. luke's heart stopped for a moment when he saw the blood coming out of his mouth. his entire body seemed to be covered in blood but he was at least still breathing which was a slight relief for luke. his wrists were bleeding he had cut himself again and the blood was rushing out of him like crazy. dropping his stuff luke tried to shake francois trying to get him to wake up, move, say something, do anything to reassure him. luke's hands were soon covered in blood not that he noticed or cared. he just wanted to make sure that the boy was alright and that he would be fine.

shit, i need to call an ambulance luke opened up his gym bag and was throwing everything out of it trying to find his cell phone. there was no way he was just going to sit there and watch francois die right in front of him. finally getting his phone he dialed 911 getting blood all over the keys. putting the phone to his ear luke paced around feeling as though he waited an eternity for someone to answer him. finally an operator answered and luke started speaking extremely fast explaining to her what was happening. he constantly repeated that there was so much blood everywhere and he wasn't sure if he was going to survive. the operator asked him to calm down which just enraged luke. how could she expect him to calm down in this situation? he just told her that she needed to get an ambulance here immediately because francois needed help and luke couldn't give it to im alone. getting off the phone luke dropped it back into his bag as he dropped to his knees next to francois trying to figure out why he would do this to himself. looking at his hands luke tried to wipe the blood off on his shirt but it just didn't seem to come off no matter how much he tried. his hands seemed as though they were stained red. looking at francois luke had no idea what he was suppose to do just sit here and wait for an ambulance. luke started ripping at the bottom of his shirt so that he could have something to wrap francois' wrists in to hopefully slow the bleeding down.

[/center]