Someday when you leave me || bxb

Chapter Four

The house is empty, there is a note on the fridge from my mom saying that she and my sister had been called into work.

The note is truly illegible but I also have a text from my sister saying they had been called into work and after studying the note on the bridge further it kind of makes sense.

There is leftover spaghetti from yesterday but I'm not hungry. I stomp upstairs kicking my shoes off walking up the stairs somehow with all my force the second shoe still won't come off.

It won't come off. It won't come off.

I walk to my room with uneven steps and sit on my bed untying the shoe and throwing it off. There are tears in my eyes. I don't know where they came from or why. Maybe frustration, sadness, regret. 

I look over at the desk at the corner of my room that is supposed to be for studying but over the years it has just become a cluttered place. I would put things I was too lazy to find a spot for or that there wasn't a spot for. There is a picture of Preston and me from my birthday. He's smashing a cupcake in my face and grinning from ear to ear with the biggest smile.

Afterward, he had followed me to the bathroom and kissed most of it off my face, that was where it all began.

I hope I haven't screwed it all up. I hope we are still friends. I hope things don't get awkward.

I don't cry often because sometimes I feel like I don't deserve it. I have a great life, better than most and I hate the feeling of it. I hate feeling. . . I hate feeling bad about myself when it's nothing.

Like when I would cry about not knowing my dad, why was I sad when I never even knew him? Why did I miss him when he left and has never even tried to get in contact? Why did I wish I could've known him when my mom has been there for me my whole life and she had never done anything to make me wish I had anything else? And why even after all of that did I go searching for something anyway?

Why had I found the old shop he owned and asked the owners if he knew him? Why did I listen to all of Mr. Lane's stories about him? Why did I go back? Why had I made the building's roof a place of comfort? And why was I there right now?. . . thinking of Preston. My best friend. 

I knew it didn't mean anything, the kissing, and other things. I knew it meant nothing to him. I knew it meant nothing to me either until it did. I knew I probably should have ended it then when I couldn't go more than a day without his touch. When I thought of him in the mornings, in class, in the shower, alone. Hell, even when I wasn't alone. I should have ended it before I got too attached.

Now I'm left crying on a building my deadbeat dad used to own thinking of my best friend, thinking Am I gay? And in love with Preston? My best friend?

The creaking door to the room disengages me with my thoughts. I quickly wipe my eyes to avoid questions. It's Alex.

When he turns around and notices me he jumps in fright.

"Oh my god, what the hell man? Why didn't you say anything?" He holds a hand to his chest and rubs a bit.

"Hey, Alex. . . " I say awkwardly.

"Hey, Jay. . . " He mimics. Alex is Mr. Lane's son.

He sits beside me and looks out toward the empty parking lot. We sit in silence for a bit. . . an awkward silence.

I can feel him turn to me, "Penny for your thoughts."

"Trust me you don't want to know."

"C'mon who am I going to tell?" I suppose he was right, who would he tell? He went to some preppy school all the way across town.

"Okay, promise you won't tell anyone." The truth is it's been killing me to keep this to myself.

"Promise."

"Okay so me and my friend. . . have been doing this thing. At first, it started as just to see what it felt like but then fast forward two months were doing the thing every night. And today my other friend told me she likes the friend I've been doing the thing with so I had to tell him that I couldn't do the thing anymore if he was going to date her. And now I'm wondering if I ruined our friendship," I say all in one breath and am panting by the end.

"Woah, what's "the thing"," he says with air quotes. Interrupting himself he continues, "Wait, no let me guess. . . drugs?"

Drugs?

"What no. . . I'm not a drug addict."

"Oh bummer, so what was it?"

I can't, I can't say it aloud. "Actually, it was drugs." I blurt out. It's a complete lie but Alex doesn't know me well enough to tell.

"I knew it," he says.

I look down pretending to be ashamed.

"So what does the one friend who likes the other have a thing against drugs--Wait are we talking like weed or like heroin because if its weed I feel like it's not a big deal but if it's like coke or heroin or something I don't know maybe you should seek help."

"Weed and coke. . ." I look down again pretending to be ashamed. In a way, I'm ashamed that I'm lying. I'm ashamed of myself for not being able to admit that I had been doing gay things with my best friend.

"Damn, that's tough," he puts a hand on my shoulder. He looks apologetic. I feel bad for lying like this, it is not right to be lying about drug abuse. Many people suffer from it and here I am using it to cover up something that I don't even care if people know.

"Yeah, but I'm done with it, I'm turning over a new leaf." I force a smile.

"Good, good." This gets awkward again.

"Yeah anyway it's late and I don't want to worry my mom so goodbye thanks for listening and for not judging me," I say getting up, walking backward toward the roof door.

"Anytime," he says.

I leave in a hurry and shake my head to forget it.