When Love & Hate Collide
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Good Charlotte
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
2,571
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Good Charlotte
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
2,571
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Good Charlotte. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part 08
Slumped in the chair with her elbow on the arm, cheek resting in he palm of her hand, Robin watched her sons sleeping. Joel lying flat on his back, looking small and pale in the hospital bed, cuts and bruises covering his face, his left arm across his stomach, wrist encased in a bulky cast. Her gaze drifted to where Benji slept, the other side of Joel; sitting in his chair, his arms resting on the side of Joel’s bed, head pillowed in his arms. He was snoring softly, fingers twitching as he dreamt.
Running her hands over her face, Robin sighed, fighting the tears she could feel threatening to well over. She shook her head, glancing again at the clock before back at Joel, willing her youngest son to wake up, to move, to do something to reassure her that he was going to be ok. Unable to stop herself, she leaned over, brushing a lock of his hair off his face and kissing him on the forehead. He didn’t stir and she exhaled shakily as she leaned back in her chair.
Looking up she met Benji’s eyes as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp. “Still asleep?” He asked quietly.
Robin nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Benji frowned and took one look at his mothers face, scraping his chair back and round the bed, pulling her into his arms and holding her as she finally broke down in tears.
Shaking, Robin held onto Benji’s shoulders, resting her head against his neck, her tears soaking the collar of his t-shirt. She clung to him for long moments, fingers clutched tightly around his upper arms before pulling back and smiling weakly at him. “Thank you, Benji,” she whispered.
Benji smiled back and nodded. “You ok, Mom?” He asked, worrying his lower lip with he teeth.
Robin paused, wiping her eyes with her fingertips and pressing her lips together in a thin line as she inhaled through her nose. “Yes,” she replied, sighing then smiling when Benji pulled her close, kissing her on the cheek before rocking back on his heels, his hands on her knees as he watched her closely, worry etched on his face. “I’m fine, Benji. I promise,” she reassured her son, relieved when he nodded, stood up and pulled his chair around to sit next to her. “How could anyone do this to Joel?” Robin wondered aloud after a few minutes, her hand resting on Joel’s, fresh tears running down her face. “Why would anyone want to hurt him?” She looked to Benji for reassurance and he felt his stomach clench, a muscle in his cheek twitching.
“I...” He shrugged, unsure of what to say.
“Benji?“ Sensing his hesitation, Robin gestured for him to continue
Benji chewed on the inside of his cheek, refusing to look at Robin as he spoke. “I tried to warn him, Mom,” he insisted. “But he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Warn him?” Robin echoed in disbelief.
“Yeah. I told him what would happen if he kept hanging around with the likes of Thomas and Martin; he’s seen what happens to fucking queers in...”
“That is enough, Benjamin!” Robin interrupted him, the palm of her hand connecting with his cheek in a stinging slap that took them both by surprise.
“Well you did ask...” he muttered sullenly, rubbing his face and blinking back the tears he could feel prickling his eyelids. He glared at the floor, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as he swore under his breath.
“And mind your language.”
Benji sighed and threw his head back. He stood up sharply, knocking his chair over. “I have to get out of this fucking place,” he announced; his stomach clenching as ice rushed through his veins. He shivered and pulled a hoodie on, bile rising in the back of his throat making him shiver.
He fled the room, running down the corridor and into the bathroom. Slamming the cubicle door shut, he dropped to his knees and heaved, tremors wracking him as he was sick. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he rocked back on his heels, resting the back of his head against the cool door. “Fuck!” Another shiver ran through him and he pulled his hoodie closer, wrapping his arms around himself as he stood up, walking out of the cubicle and over to the sink. Running the hot water, he splashed his face, using his sleeve to dry off. He stared at his reflection, narrowing his eyes, fingers clenching the sides of the sink. “Fucking faggot deserved it,” he insisted with a snarl, his reflection agreeing with him.
Running her hands over her face, Robin sighed, fighting the tears she could feel threatening to well over. She shook her head, glancing again at the clock before back at Joel, willing her youngest son to wake up, to move, to do something to reassure her that he was going to be ok. Unable to stop herself, she leaned over, brushing a lock of his hair off his face and kissing him on the forehead. He didn’t stir and she exhaled shakily as she leaned back in her chair.
Looking up she met Benji’s eyes as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp. “Still asleep?” He asked quietly.
Robin nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Benji frowned and took one look at his mothers face, scraping his chair back and round the bed, pulling her into his arms and holding her as she finally broke down in tears.
Shaking, Robin held onto Benji’s shoulders, resting her head against his neck, her tears soaking the collar of his t-shirt. She clung to him for long moments, fingers clutched tightly around his upper arms before pulling back and smiling weakly at him. “Thank you, Benji,” she whispered.
Benji smiled back and nodded. “You ok, Mom?” He asked, worrying his lower lip with he teeth.
Robin paused, wiping her eyes with her fingertips and pressing her lips together in a thin line as she inhaled through her nose. “Yes,” she replied, sighing then smiling when Benji pulled her close, kissing her on the cheek before rocking back on his heels, his hands on her knees as he watched her closely, worry etched on his face. “I’m fine, Benji. I promise,” she reassured her son, relieved when he nodded, stood up and pulled his chair around to sit next to her. “How could anyone do this to Joel?” Robin wondered aloud after a few minutes, her hand resting on Joel’s, fresh tears running down her face. “Why would anyone want to hurt him?” She looked to Benji for reassurance and he felt his stomach clench, a muscle in his cheek twitching.
“I...” He shrugged, unsure of what to say.
“Benji?“ Sensing his hesitation, Robin gestured for him to continue
Benji chewed on the inside of his cheek, refusing to look at Robin as he spoke. “I tried to warn him, Mom,” he insisted. “But he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Warn him?” Robin echoed in disbelief.
“Yeah. I told him what would happen if he kept hanging around with the likes of Thomas and Martin; he’s seen what happens to fucking queers in...”
“That is enough, Benjamin!” Robin interrupted him, the palm of her hand connecting with his cheek in a stinging slap that took them both by surprise.
“Well you did ask...” he muttered sullenly, rubbing his face and blinking back the tears he could feel prickling his eyelids. He glared at the floor, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed as he swore under his breath.
“And mind your language.”
Benji sighed and threw his head back. He stood up sharply, knocking his chair over. “I have to get out of this fucking place,” he announced; his stomach clenching as ice rushed through his veins. He shivered and pulled a hoodie on, bile rising in the back of his throat making him shiver.
He fled the room, running down the corridor and into the bathroom. Slamming the cubicle door shut, he dropped to his knees and heaved, tremors wracking him as he was sick. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he rocked back on his heels, resting the back of his head against the cool door. “Fuck!” Another shiver ran through him and he pulled his hoodie closer, wrapping his arms around himself as he stood up, walking out of the cubicle and over to the sink. Running the hot water, he splashed his face, using his sleeve to dry off. He stared at his reflection, narrowing his eyes, fingers clenching the sides of the sink. “Fucking faggot deserved it,” he insisted with a snarl, his reflection agreeing with him.