Synchronised Motion (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 13

I pull at my collar, it's uncomfortably tight around the soft flesh of my neck and I'm overly hot and twitchy. My breathing is hollow and my fingers numb from clenching my hands too tight.

I'm a mess.

I focus way too hard on walking up the stairs, one foot in front of the other, occasionally having to remind myself to breathe along the way.

The sky is darkening quickly, and the homeroom I buzzing with noise. It's Thursday night, a big night for all on-campus uni students. People are hanging around the common room only starting their night — I want nothing more than to end mine.

To end this fucking horrible day.

I walk carefully, avoiding the creaky parts of the floor. I stick to the furthest side from the main lounge room where multiple students are laughing and drinking. Normally, I would be down there with them (for the booze of course). But I'm not drinking tonight.

Most of the swim team is in this hall thanks to the significant discounts and scholarships they received for being in the swim team's top squad. Means I get to see their faces way too much and hear their voice way too regularly.

Oliver isn't though, he has a flat near campus with some mates I think. But since a lot of the team are here he's over a bit.

More than usual recently.

Everything's been a bit of a blur the last few days. Coach suspended me from swimming for two weeks due to my little punch out with Josh. Which is quite the inconvenience since our last and final competition, Nationals, is in four weeks.

So I can kiss any hope of beating Oliver down the drain.

My shoulders slump further; it was not like I was going to beat him anyway. I guess I just had this fire, this swindle of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could... As if that would solve all my problems. That If I bet the best maybe people would like me better—maybe my Father would like me better, want to know me better.

Because everyone loves a winner.

Maybe if I won for once, I would be worth something. Be someone of value, like Oliver. But now I see the truth, that far-fetched goal is merely a dream—and I have woken up. So I will have to learn to live with myself as a loser.

Yesterday my Father messaged me asking how my school camp went, obviously missing the part where I didn't go on a school camp and I was at a swim competition. I didn't reply.

And today...

Henry's funeral.

A faded blur of people and time passing too slowly. Dragging on too long. Hurting too much. Not just hitting too close to home, but demolishing the home. I have never felt so helpless in my life, and all I could do was sit there and take it.

His Mum was a mess; a shell of the woman she usually is. It was tough sitting there and having to be forced to come to terms with the reality of it. I don't think I really let it sink in—really believed it. Until today.

Reality didn't just hit me hard...

It slapped me.

It kicked me.

It threw me a sharp deadly uppercut hitting me square in the heart. Stopping my heart for too long and taking too much of my breath away.

Reality sucks arse. It really fucking sucks.

I'm so emotionally hung over right now. I don't have the energy to deal with anyone or anything. Stomached empty but I can't eat anything. Mind a mess and I can't think. I feel a bit like a zombie today, just going through the motions, just getting from A to B without any real awareness of what's happening. A quiet passenger in the drive of life.