2-13-21|1762 WORDS
I wrote this 2am pls
reserve your criticisms.
I'm lazy <3
My dad his clearly unable to comprehend something to say in this situation. Does he yell? Express calm disappointment? Say nothing? I can't imagine walking in on my son with his hands in the neighbors sons pants.
"Oh." He cleared his throat, getting ready to say something before reconsidering. He tilts his head, his eyebrows slightly knitted. He looks disgusted, distraught. How could I do this?"
I'm sure he couldn't see much from the dim lighting in the room, but it was certainly enough. Plus, I'm sure Schlatts mewling gave something away.
"We'll talk about his later." He looks away, embarrassed. He deposits my laundry basket on the ground before hurrying out.
I don't know what that means. Later? How much later? With Schlatt or without? I meet my lovers gaze, I'm still straddling him. He looks as surprised as I am. Am I allowed to see him anymore?- I hate the idea of that.
I don't know what to do.
•••
Eventually, all good things must come to an end.
I read this on my middleschool wall during positive-feelings week. The quote ended in -Anonymous. Anonymous? What do you mean anonymous? Who could be so ashamed of something they said - which I think is a solid quote - to have orphaned it? Or was it simply stolen? I probably shouldn't think too deep into it, yet I seem to do this frequently without much thought. Thats ironic, isn't it?
Schlatt got a message from his dad a few after telling him to come home as it was getting late. He reluctantly left far too sooner than either of us would've liked him to. I pressed my face to the carpet, trying to see if he got out without error without actually going downstairs. I hear the door click shut without any disruption, I'm glad my father isn't berating my-
"I wish you would've told me." My fathers voice brings me back to the present.
I realize I'm still hunched over at the counter kitchen counter.
I realize my feet are still scraping at the ground, slowly. Dragging them heavily.
I realize I can't take my eyes off them.
I realize I can't meet my dads gaze.
I realize if I do I'll only be met with disappointment, an overwhelming shame for his own son. I'm met with his stare so often, yet I can never seem to handle it.
I realize I have nothing to say to him that would please him, make him proud of me.
I realize I meet this standard often. My father holds no expectations for me yet I always seem to fail him.
"I didn't think I needed to." I mummer.
We're bathed in the light above the kitchen area, the rest of the house is engulfed in darkness.
"Excuse me? You didn't need to? Do you know how embarrassing this is to learn your sons been sneaking around with the neighbor boy just under your nose?" I flinch.
He enhales deeply "Did your brothers know?" Hes trying to keep calm, quiet. Like I'm a frightened animal, about to skit anyway if nit spoken to carefully. I appreciate this.
