Chapter 28

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.:Author's Note:.

Trigger Warning - thoughts of suicide (nothing graphic)

I've become one of those authors who make empty promises about updates; I'm sorry. I always try to make it up with a lengthy chapter.

Completely unedited because I wanted to get this out to you all as quickly as possible.

***

Winston's POV:

Ten Years Ago

The phone slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a deafening clatter as I sucked in a harsh breath.

A painful burn spread across my chest and my lungs felt like they were suddenly giving up on me. The room started to spin, but I gripped onto the edge of the counter, hoping to steady myself. The attempt was proven futile because in the next moment, my legs went limp and I found myself following my phone to the ground.

I landed roughly on my knees.

"Hello, Mr. Monroe? Are you there?" My doctor's voice sounded from a few inches away through the phone's receiver. I didn't have the strength, nor the voice, to answer him. My throat felt clogged and every time I tried to say something, nothing would come out.

My eyes welled up with tears before running down my cheeks, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Everything just hurt all of a sudden. It didn't help that I also felt absolutely nauseous.

I have HIV.

I have HIV.

I have HIV.

The more the phrase repeated in my head, the sicker I felt.

Why?

Why me?

How could I have let this happen?

My doctor continued to try and get my attention, but realistically, I could no longer hear what he was saying. I didn't want to hear what he was saying. What was the use?

I'm a dead man walking.

I threw up my breakfast instantly. My stomach clenched tightly as everything came out and landed in a messy puddle in front of me. The sight was ghastly, but I didn't have the will to clean it up once I was done. Instead, I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my shirt before laying my heated face on the cool cupboards beside me.

I want to just die right here.

I bet that would be amazing – being dead. Anything was better than living with this incurable disease.

End it before it gets worse.

"Mr. Monroe, we were able to catch the disease early so you can start treatment for it right away. We don't have to allow it to progress into AIDS. Would you be willing to come in for a consultation?" I don't know if my phone was on speaker, but suddenly I could hear everything that my doctor was saying, and he was being too loud for my liking. "Usually, we would have waited to give this kind of information in person, but you are one of the few who was able to be aware of the virus before it was too late. I wanted to contact you immediately."

You should've waited, at least then I wouldn't have a chance of surviving.

"I know this is a lot to take in, and although I can't see you, I can take your lack of response as a reaction. Please, for your benefit, come in to see me as soon as possible. I wish you the best, Mr. Monroe. Goodbye..."

I sat on the floor for another ten minutes after the call had ended. Mom had just opened the front door when I found the strength to actually stop crying. She walked into the kitchen, along with my dad pausing at the sight of me.

"Winston?!" She quickly dropped her bags and rushed over to me, not caring that I probably smelt like the foulest thing ever. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

My dad set his bags down as well before coming over to sit on one of the kitchen chairs. He rested his hands on my mom's shoulders while looking at me worriedly just the same. He wasn't much of a talker, but that didn't stop him from being supportive.

I sighed before looking at both of my parents in shame.

How do I tell them?

Should I even tell them?

Would they think I'm disgusting?

I do.

"Winston, talk to us, sweetie." Mom said, pulling me from my thoughts.

I can't.

I began to cry again, unable to hold in the painful sobs that raked my chest. Mom cradled me to her chest while silently shooing my father away. I knew it meant that we weren't going to leave this kitchen floor until she got to the bottom of what was happening to me. My dad would've told her to stop pressuring me, but Mom is a stubborn woman, and she didn't want to hear his pestering – not like she'd listen to him if he'd stay.

She's going to hate me.

"It's just you and me now, Winnie." She said before kissing the top of my head. "Momma's here, and I'm not going anywhere."

I felt like a child, but I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy her motherly comfort. I wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible, which is why I stayed unresponsive for another twenty minutes.

When I finally had the strength to talk, I could only repeat the one phrase that had been in my head since hearing it from my doctor.

"I have HIV."

I could feel my mother's hold on me tighten, and I wasn't sure if it was because of shock. The next second, she was pushing me out to arm's length. My heart dropped to my stomach as I avoided eye contact with her. I didn't want to see her look of disgust. I wouldn't be able to handle it.

I just knew she'd hate me.

"How?" She asked softly before her voice turned to anger. "Was it Diego? I swear to God if it was Diego-"

"No!" I said quickly in shock, risking a chance to look at her. "No, Mom, it wasn't him."

"Then-"

"I was raped." I whispered, pausing to swallow thickly before continuing. "A few months ago before I moved back in."

My mother didn't respond verbally. I almost assumed she was in a state of shock, but then silent tears began to fall from her eyes. She pulled me back to her chest, tightening her hold on me as she began to sob.

"My baby-" She broke off, crying harder with her cheek pressed to the top of my head. "Why didn't you tell me? You've been carrying all of this hurt for months, and I had no idea."

"I didn't want to burden you any more than I already had."

"Winston, you are my son! It is my purpose as your mother to be there for you whenever need be."

"I wasn't ready to talk about it – I'm still not." I paused again and took a breath. My lungs felt like they were on fire as my whole body filled with shame. "Do you hate me, Mommy?"

"Winnie, I could never!" She replied immediately. "I just feel so sad. You don't deserve all of the shit the world has thrown at you."

"I don't?"

"Of course not."

I didn't really believe her. I probably did deserve everything that has happened to me.

Was God testing my strength? Because, honestly, I felt like I was failing. Thoughts of ending it all started to fill my mind once again. I didn't want to go on like this. Why would I when I already knew how my future would turn out? It was bound to be full of pain, pain, and even more pain. There wasn't anything to look forward to; my life was over.

"I love you, Mommy. So much!" I mumbled lowly, knowing that it was probably the last time I'd be able to say it to her.

"I love you too, Winnie. Don't you worry, we're going to tackle this virus head-on." I surely was, but not in the manner that she obviously hoped. "No matter what happens, I'll be with you every step of the way."

***

Present

I awoke with a start.

The first thing I noticed was that I was in my room, as naked as a newborn baby.

A splitting headache made itself noticeable in the next moment. I groaned lowly, holding my hands to my head, hoping to stop the pain. It didn't help, and the noise I made only seemed to make it worse.

"Oh, you're awake." Jonathan's familiar deep voice sounded from my bedroom entrance. I glanced over at him, finding a tray in his hand that held a bowl and a tall glass of water. It wasn't long before the strong scent of chicken soup drifted up my nose. "I made you some soup, and I assumed you'd have a headache after passing out in my arms so I brought you some Advil as well."

"Thank you." I said as best as I could. The simple phrase came out as a whisper since my throat was unbelievably dry. "Why am I naked?"

"I gave you a bath." My boyfriend admitted. I was shocked to see color invade his cheeks as he spoke. "Was that okay? I didn't want to put you in your bed with the dirty clothes on."

I blushed as well. It couldn't be helped.

"You didn't have to. I would've changed the sheets afterward, but thank you, again."

"It was no problem, really." He walked over to me, setting the tray down on my bedside table. "Here, drink some water. You must be dehydrated."

I gratefully accepted the cool glass from Jonathan's outstretched hand as well as the Advil pills he wanted me to take. I threw them back and downed the water in mere seconds. Jonathan smiled when I shyly handed the empty glass back to him.

"I just finished making this so it's still hot." He said as he handed me the bowl of soup. "Be careful. I'll go get you some more water."

He was out of the room before I could respond – not that I was really going to anyway. I hardly wanted to speak or eat for that matter. My stomach felt like it was tied in knots after simply drinking some water. I didn't think I'd be able to stomach any soup.

Jonathan returned with another full glass a few minutes later. I had yet to eat from my bowl, and he seemed to notice that because he frowned. He set the glass down on the table before sitting beside me. I sighed as I looked down at my soup.

"You have to eat." He said softly while taking the bowl from me.

"I'm not hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?"

I shrugged my shoulders although I knew the answer. I haven't eaten anything since I made April and Alyssa dinner on Sunday night.

What day was it now?

Friday?

That was five days ago.

"That shrug is no better than a verbal response."

I still chose not to speak. Thoughts of what could possibly be happening at the hospital right now began to fill my head. I didn't need to be selfish and worry about myself right now. My mother needed me, but here I was – yet again – with Jonathan.

"I have to go to the hospital." I said after a while as I stood from my bed. Quickly, I went to my dresser and pulled out a random shirt and pants, as well as a pair of underwear.

"I can't let you leave in this condition, sweetness." Jonathan said as I got dressed. I ignored him, hurrying to put on a pair of socks and then my shoes. I heard him sigh, followed by the putting down of my bowl before he was coming after me once I left my room. "Winston!"

I looked around the kitchen for my keys, knowing that I had stopped in here to fill up Snowflake's bowls. When I couldn't find them after searching for what felt like half an hour – living room, bathroom, and bedroom included – I turned to face my boyfriend who had been quiet the entire time as he watched me.

"Jonathan, where are my keys?" I asked desperately.

"I hid them." He replied while folding his arms. "I told you I can't let you leave, much less drive, in this condition."

"I don't have a condition." I gritted out. "I just want to stay with my mother in the hospital."

"First, you need to eat some-"

"Jonathan, give me my fucking keys!" I snapped angrily, clenching my fists at my side. My boyfriend's mouth snapped shut instantly before a small glare appeared on his face.

"No."

I don't know what overcame me as I picked up the nearest thing at my side and threw it at him. His eyes widened as he ducked, causing my bedside lamp to shatter against the wall above his head.

The instant small release of built-up frustrations made me pick up something else and throw it at him as well. He dodged my glass cup, but I didn't stop – I couldn't. I continued to throw things, which he managed to avoid, until there was just nothing else left to throw.

I looked around blindly for something – anything – to use, but I came up shorthanded.

No! I need this!

"Winston."

There has to be something else!

"Winston."

Fuck!

"Winston!" Arms wrapped around my body, pulling me from my thoughts and causing me to tense. "It's okay, sweetness. I know how you feel."

Jonathan mumbled sweet nothings in my ear until all of the adrenaline vanished from my body, and I was left as a spineless sobbing mess.

Loud, ghastly, sounds escaped my lips as I cried the rest of my frustrations out.

God, it felt good.

My boyfriend held me tighter while continuing to speak softly to me – telling me that everything was going to be okay. I knew it wasn't, but for some reason, I wanted to believe him.

I don't know when or how we made it to my bed, but suddenly I was laying on top of Jonathan with watery eyes, a sore throat, and a stuffy nose. He didn't seem to care as he let me ruin his shirt. He ran his fingers through my hair and doted on me with love and affection. All I could do was sob.

I don't deserve this.

It felt like I had cried for hours. When I finally got myself to stop, I felt one hundred times better. Granted, I wasn't all happy – shitting rainbows and unicorns – but I no longer had that frustration and anger in me with no way of releasing it.

Jonathan pushed my hair back and forced my chin up so that I was looking at him. I felt ashamed. I had almost hurt such a wonderful man, who was so beautiful inside and out. How could I?

"Feel better?" He asked lowly with a small, almost impossible to see, grin. I nodded bashfully.

"I'm sorry." I said after taking a glance around my destroyed room. I managed to break glass and spill soup in almost every corner. It was going to be a bitch to clean up later.

"You don't have to apologize. I've been in similar situations like this before so I know how to handle these things."

"With Miranda?" I asked softly.

"No, actually. It was with Macy, but that's a story for another day." He said before kissing the top of my head. It was quiet for a while. I was trying to gather my thoughts, but my brain felt scrambled. Thankfully, my boyfriend spoke again, drawing me away from said scrambled thoughts. "You know you're not in this alone, right?"

"Aren't I?"

"No, you're not. The day we started a relationship was the day we signed an invisible contract that states your pain is my pain and vice versa. We are a team, sweetness, and you don't have to ever be afraid of lashing out with me if need be. I understand your frustrations, and I know you feel overwhelming guilt for what happened to your mom, but you need to know that it was not your fault."

"It was!"

"No, it wasn't. You cannot blame yourself for an accident, Winston. It was an accident. Your mother's seizure was not your fault. You not being home when it happened wasn't something you did on purpose or out of spite. Her cancer is not your fault. There is nothing you need to blame yourself for because you had no control over any of it happening."

"But-"

"Listen to me, sweetness. You have to let that guilt go. I know it will take some time, and I will never rush you through your grieving and healing process. However, I'm not going to sit by quietly and watch you destroy yourself either. You have to take care of yourself, and if you won't, then I will."

"You don't have to." I whispered emotionally, feeling my eyes water all over again.

"Yes, I do, because as your boyfriend – and life partner – it is one of my many purposes to keep you happy and healthy. I never want you to think you are alone in this world and that you don't have people who love and need you."

I wiped my eyes before resting my chin on Jonathan's chest to get a good look at him.

"Do you mean it?"

"Every single word." He replied without hesitation. I smiled as best as I could before kissing his soft lips quickly. The quick act of affection made a smile of his own appear on his face.

"I love you so much." I told him seriously. He swiped his thumb under my eye, catching a stray tear that was about to roll down my cheek before kissing me again.

"The feeling is mutual, sweetness. Don't doubt that." He grinned.

"What now?"

"We clean up and get some food in you."

"And my mom?"

"We go see her first thing in the morning after you've gotten a reasonable amount of sleep."

"Okay." I paused before lowering my head in embarrassment. "I really am sorry about throwing all those things at you. I swear I'm not psychotic."

My last statement made Jonathan laugh heartily.

"I know, baby. It's okay. No matter what happens, I'll be with you every step of the way – psychotic or not."

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