Like You Mean It

10. Cam

I felt like shit. I just won a soloist award, my band won the competition, I was turning seventeen in an hour, and I felt like utter shit. I was sitting in my car at 11 pm and I didn't know where I could go. I was in some random parking lot a town over and I didn't know where to go.

I couldn't go home because Tom wouldn't get it, Reese wouldn't get it, Gabby wouldn't get it, Mom wouldn't get it and Dad wouldn't get it. And I don't want to make them feel bad because they just wouldn't get it. And I didn't want to ruin the really great day we all just had. They'd want to do something to him or try to fight him. I didn't want anyone to do anything I just wanted to fucking...I don't know.

I didn't want them to know what Jackson said. I didn't want anyone to know what Jackson said because it was just so embarrassing and stupid that I was still letting him get to me like this. But I was. I was still letting him get to me after five years.

I was letting some stupid old friend from middle school make me feel like I was less of a guy. Make me feel like I was stuck in a phase. Like I was a mistake. Like I was broken. Maybe I was broken. Maybe he was right. I was broken and I needed to be fixed and only guys like him could fix me because-

I put the car in drive and ended up in Hayden's neighborhood. I didn't even realize that I had driven there until I was there, parked on the side of the road right next to his driveway.

I called him, "Hey Cam, what's up?" He asked.

"Um." I sniffled, "Fuck sorry, I just- Can I come over?" God, I sounded so weak. So girly. So emotional. So broken, just like Jackson said I was when he was beating me up at age 11.

Maybe I was broken. Maybe I didn't deserve to be treated with kindess. I should just hang up. You're bothering him, you're bothering everyone. Hang up and leave. Just leave them all, they'll be better off without-

"Where are you right now?" He asked quickly, "Are you safe?"

"I'm in your driveway," I told him, wiping my face.

I heard him moving and quickly saw the front door open. I hung up my phone and got out of my car, locking it as he met me at the end of the driveway. He looked me up and down, relieved to see me, I guess.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

"No." I finally broke down, tears pouring down my face as I let out an ugly sob.

He hugged me, "Let's go inside." I nodded against his chest.

I ended up crying on his bed as he brought me water, "Do you wanna watch a movie?" He asked.

I nodded and then he tossed a hoodie at my face, "Get out of your jeans and that ugly ass band polo." He told me.

I pulled off my jeans, staying in my boxers. And then pulled off my shirt, I saw him staring at my top surgery scars and my fucking heart surgery scar and my fucking monitor. I quickly pulled the hoodie on. It was because I was a fake guy. I was a stupid fake guy with a stupid fake chest and no dick and stupid curvy hips and a stupid girl face and a barely functional heart and a shitty fucking immune system and-

He set up his laptop, "What do you want to watch?" He asked.

I shrugged, "Anything."

"Star Wars?" He asked, with a small smile.

I smiled through some tears, "Yeah. Original trilogy, though."

"Obviously, I'm not a heathen." Hayden smiled.

He decided on A New Hope and pressed play. He settled into the bed next to me, both of us sitting up and leaning against his pillows and the wall. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his hand settling around my hip, "Is this ok?" He asked softly.