Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

37 - speech

A/N: Happy reading x)

Chapter 37 – speech

Eileen

When I feel people become interested in me, it pisses me off.

It's not that I don't appreciate it. In my own twisted way I love them for it, but the way I show it rude. Because it's not me they have seen. It's only the exterior. The glammed up version, the sparkly one, the inviting one. And they believe they will love the many layers of me, but that's not true. Even my own mother struggles with it. She tells me, 'You should dress better', so I do. And then she tells me, 'You shouldn't be so pessimistic about life', so I try to change. But the reality is that people rarely change. And what is perceived as change is only the deception I offer myself.

Yes, at first I believe.

I make lists and dream up scenarios. I believe that I can make my life different, that I can present myself to the world differently and so the response also changes. I believe I can finally have what I secretly long for. So secretly that I have trouble finding the truth within me. Because I know that I'll see it distorted somehow. I'm hiding truth from me because I won't be able to handle it.

'You'd be prettier if you tried'.

Oh, but I do. But the efforts fall short. The outcome is barely visible. I'll go back to the version I was very quickly because it's comfortable. Because it matches me better. Because...maybe that is the only version I can keep up with.

Versions need maintenance and I only have a limited amount of energy.

It's easier to push people away, because then there's no pretending.

With each individual I have to carry myself a certain type of way. They'll deny it of course. 'Oh, you don't have to change yourself. Just be you.' But it's not that easy. It's not.

It's the same with Marcus. There's always another layer to shed. And what if he reaches the core? Who lies there? Is it me? Do I know the real me? Do I like the me residing in my heart, underneath all the bullshit, all the masks, all the shine?

It's the same with Ben. It's the same with all of them.

And I push and pull and tug and yank and brush them away, but stay close. And it's stupid. It's draining. It's pointless.

But it's me.

I guess that's why I like people whose names I haven't learned yet. The only thing I have from them is glances, gazes, small remarks I'll forget.

I like those brief encounters because there's not enough time to dress in another layer. To develop another exterior me.

Maybe in those small moments the core of me shines through and I get to meet her. No expectations. No consequences. Nothing to terrify me.

'But it's no way to live,' says my mother. 'You need people.'

I get it. I know it. Loneliness never comforted anyone.

Maybe my soul is stuck in a place in the past. Maybe it doesn't want to leave. Maybe that's why people often can't change, because they expect the times to be like they were.

I clutch the speech in my hand like a lifeline. The words are another falsehood, but even lies carry an ounce of truth.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Farley fixed the light and it's beautiful. An intimate venue with so much hope. Every flickering bulb is hope and I drink it in. We have a chance to make a difference. We could change lives. We could...But will it work?

I see how Luke looks at Nolan. I see how Nolan looks at Luke. I witnessed the change in Jason and Caleb. I saw Ben's kindness despite all his struggles. I know it worked for them. They made it through. They got better. They found love and meaning and a place to belong. And I feel like an outsider.

I've used their shoulders to cry on. I've swayed in their arms as we hugged. I've leaned on them. I've tried.

'You're just a pessimist,' mom would say. 'Look at the bright side.'

I run my fingers over the dress, over the sequins. I practise my smile. Teeth or no teeth? I close my eyes and take deep breath. The absence of knowing what to do makes me look for familiar faces in the crowd. And this is how know I need them. Despite all my flaws and questionable behaviour and self-doubt, I need them.

I can feel like an outsider, like a flop, like someone who is incapable of so many things, but they're my friends. They're here to help, to guide, to mourn with me.

The air changes and that's how I know he's standing beside me. There's a soft electricity between us. The kind that doesn't hurt but livens. My heart quickens in familiarity. In safety. This time I smile for real. I don't think about how to do it or whether I should or shouldn't show teeth. This smile is for me.

"Nervous?" he asks. Marcus looks good in a suit. He looks proper.

Instinctively I grab his hand and give a little squeeze. He holds his breath waiting for me to push him away. I'm always so hot and cold and I don't know how he can put up with this. I don't deserve him.

Then he relaxes, brows furrowing and his eyes searching for mine. He looks at me so sweetly, half of me melts. Half of me wants to burst into tears because I can feel his willingness to do whatever it takes so that I'd be okay.

He entwines our fingers and I press my chin down in a hesitant nod.

"You're so strong, Eileen," he says, slightly louder than a whisper.

His voice is raspy. I wish he didn't smoke, but I can't blame him. Although I don't smell cigarettes. When's the last time he took a drag? Instead he smells nice. I feel myself lean in a bit. A memory unfolds. The first time we met. I didn't know there'd be a second time. Didn't know there'd be a third, a fourth...And I sure as hell didn't think I'd be living with him.

In a way he's like a guardian angel. But I'd never say it to his face.

He hates to be considered wonderful.

But that's a layer.

I'm too scared to peel it away, because he has the same power over me.

He plants a kiss on my forehead. "And that dress," he mumbles. "Wear it with pride." Then he's off to mingle with the crowd. There's people he knows. Rich people. The kind of people I would only have met in a restaurant or on the street. But now I'm here in this glamorous venue about to deliver a speech. Will they believe me? Will they take me seriously and donate?

Across the room I see Ben. He straightens his tie, one hand in pocket. He senses me staring and switches his eyes on me. Then winks.

I wish he never changes. I wish he stays the boy with a golden heart who lights up a room. There's not a bad bone in his body, whereas I have a couple. I wonder if I could grow out one of those.

The lights brighten on the stage and I now it's my turn.

Come on, Eileen, I tell myself. You better not fuck this up.