Church boy

Part 11

I finally sat up again, only to have my eyes meet with George's. He breathes out a mouthful of smoke and pushes the lit end of the cigarette into the chain of his swing before dropping it onto the floor below him. He pushes himself up and coughs.

His hand covers his mouth as he stumbles towards me in the dimly lit park. "Dream?" He calls out. I push myself back until my back hits the wall of the small box. His hand reaches up on the ladder, and then he's pulling himself up to look at me. He grins, a perfect smile spreading across his face.

He pulls himself up and sits next to me, our knees brushing against each other as he pulls his knees up to his chest. "Are you okay?" He asks, voice quiet as if he was scared to ask. I shrug and he hums. "Any reason you're here?" He asks, before breaking out into a smile. "Or are you just looking for a night out like before?" His breath reeks of smoke, a familiar smell I've grown comfortable with over the years.

"I got into a fight with my parents." I mumbled. Then I turned to him. "Were you smoking?" I ask. I know he was. I literally saw him smoking on the swing, plus his breath is an obvious give away.

He laughs and rests his head against the wood. "Yeah, I have been since I was 15." He nods lightly, recalling the memories. My eyes widened in complete shock. "You've been smoking since you were 15?" I ask, needing confirmation. "Yeah." He sighs.

"It's one of the reasons I had to move here." He admits. "Religious family with a deadbeat son." He clicks his tongue. "They don't like me too much." He laughs.

"Even Amelia?" I ask. "Even Amelia." He nods. "I don't blame her, though. I've been pretty shitty to her these past few years. I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted me gone." I frown slightly. I thought they were pretty close, but I guess I don't know Amelia too well. It's impossible to tell what she actually likes.

He glances down, eyes landing on my discarded earbud. He grabs it and before I have the chance to open my mouth and say anything he places it in his ear. 'R U Mine?' by Arctic Monkeys plays but it's almost over. It's the ending verse, just a repeat of the same question. 'Are you mine?'

George hums in satisfaction, shifting until he shoulder presses against mine, slightly heating that side of my body. "You bought a hoodie this time." I say. George looks down at the loose hoodie before looking at me, or more specifically, my hoodie. "I could say the same for you."

"I didn't want to be cold tonight." I shrug. "You 're going to stay here all night?" George asks. His voice is higher, filled with concern, maybe panic. "Yeah, I don't really wanna go home yet." I sigh. "My dad said I'm not allowed to leave my room until I 'finally admit I like girls'." My hands mimic the speech bubbles, showing just how stupid the sentence actually is. "And I don't really feel like starving in my quite boring room, so here I am." I smile sarcastically, earning a concerned look from George.

"You should've called me." His voice is soft again, just like before when he asked if I was okay. "I was going to call Sap in the morning, to see if I could stay at his place." George shakes his head as if that wasn't enough for him. "You can't stay here, it's too cold. You're either going back to your parents or coming home with me." It should have been a question, an offer, not a demand. It sends a chill down my body.

My thumb taps the cold glass kept loosely in my grip. It's half empty. Did I really drink that much? George wraps his hand around mine, the ice cold skin somehow managing to warm mine. He lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a mouthful. My hand touches his lips, lightly brushing against the pink skin as his eyes squeeze shut and the bottle lowers.

"Shit." He swallows, my hand stays trapped below his, placed gently in his warm lap. "It's been a while since I've drank." He laughs, tilting his head up. I stare at him in complete awe. His jaw flexes as he swallows, outlining his jawline even more than before. His pink lips lift up into a smile as his eyes crease slightly. His hair falls over his forehead, flicking into small curls just above his eyes, it looks dark, almost black in this lighting.

The song playing dies out into silence before 'Cigarettes out the window' by TV Girl starts playing. George laughs. "I like your music taste." He compliments, turning his head to look at me. "Thanks, it's just some shitty playlist full of songs I like." I mumbled, slightly embarrassed.

"I like it." I smile at him. He brings the bottle back up to his lips. He glances at me from the side of his eyes, lips parting. "I didn't know you drank." He swallows, placing our hands with the bottle back into his lap. "I don't really, I just always have a bottle in case everything goes to shit." I laugh remembering the fight with my parents. What a wonderful life.

"Am I the reason they're upset?" He asks, and the question almost takes me by surprise because how could he have possibly thought of that? "What?" I ask. He shrugs. "You mentioned they wanted you to be with Amelia and then were upset when we were together at church. And now we're both sitting here in the middle of the night drinking your emergency alcohol."

"I-" I stare at the floor in front of me. "Yeah." I sigh, defeated. "They were calling me slurs and shit, saying I need to get over this phase of liking boys." He lets go of my hand and I feel my heart drop at the loss of contact. I suck in a shaky breath. "They want to fix me." My voice breaks, my eyes watering for the tenth time this night. George's head rests on my shoulder. "My parents were the same." He sighs, and my eyes widen.

George is gay?

WC: 1066