Coming to terms with his sexuality, Theodore Moore is a seventeen year old who is just about getting by. He makes minimum wage and has aspiring, out-of-reach dreams to become a lawyer.
Violent and aggressive, Antony Barbosa is everything wrong with...
I’ve never felt less motivation to leave my bed. I’ve never wanted to stay under the covers until someone drags me out. “Theodore?” I hear my mum’s voice ring through the room, and I turn over, still under the covers. “Can I come in?” She asked, and I slowly lifted the covers away from my face. My mum was standing at the doorway, her lips pressed together tightly as she smiled at me.
I nodded my head weakly, sitting up and leaning my back on the headboard. She sniffs and sits on my bed, her hand resting on my knee. “How are you?” She asked, and I groaned in annoyance, leaning my head back.
“God, why is everyone asking me that? I’m fucking fine.” I grumble, and mum blinks at me. I send her an apologetic look, my eyes flickering to a close for a few seconds. “Sorry.” I murmur, running my fingers through my hair. “I’m just…” I shrugged my shoulders.
“You’re not fine, Theo, and that’s totally okay.” She tells me, squeezing my knee a little. “You’re allowed to feel a little depressed every now and then.” She chuckles, and my lips quiver. She wipes away a tear that had escaped down my cheek, and I lean into her touch. “I know you’re probably… aching to see him, but I think you both need time, right now. He obviously needs to come to terms with who he is, and you need to accept that he may not be-”
“Mum.” I beg, my eyes darkening. “Please. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. All I want, really, is to see him and make sure he’s okay.” I tell her, and she swallows, licking her bottom lip. “He hasn’t answered my calls in two weeks, mum.” My lips quivered once more and my eyes sting as tears threaten to escape. “I just wanna- I need to see him.” I cry, and mum leans forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and hugging me. I cry into her shoulder, wrapping my arms tightly around her. She rubs her hand up and down my back, and I cry for Antony and for myself and for everything in between. For our kisses and our touches and his delicate heart.
-
Mum managed to get me out of bed and I trudged down the stairs, lifting the hood over my hair and stuffing my hands into the pockets of my joggers as I walked into the living room. My dad stood next to me, his hand slapping my shoulder as he pressed a quick kiss to the side of my head.
My eyes lift to Tom’s as he places four plates on the dinner table. They were filled with last night’s leftovers, and I gulped as he glanced at me. His hands moving to his hips. He raises his eyebrows, and I lick my lips, pressing them together. “You ready to integrate with society, now?” He asked me, and I chuckled lightly, rubbing my eyes and shaking my head.
“Yeah, carry on taking the piss, Thomas.” I smack the back of his head, and he pushes me away from him, grinding his knuckles into the top of my head, over the hood. I squirm away from him, and it’s crazy how easily these people are able to lift my mood within just a few seconds.
And, despite the lack of credit I give him, Thomas has this weird humorous way of pissing me off so much that it forces me into a good mood. It’s kind of fucked up, but I love him and I love my parents and I know I can rely on them for anything.
We’re all sitting on the table when there’s a knock on the front door. Thomas huffs something under his breath, before he gets to his feet and walks out. I rip a piece of the chicken in front of me and take a bite, listening to see who’s at the front door.
“Why are you here?” I hear Tom speak, a little frustrated, and I lift my head, glancing at my mother. She gulps, a small frown on her face. “I thought I told you to-”
“I need to talk to him, Thomas. Is he here?” Fernanda speaks, and my eyes widen in shock. I’m instantly on my feet and mum tries to reach out for me, but I’m stepping back.
“Theo-” She begins, but I’m rushing out of the room and to the front door, pushing Tom out of the door.
“Theodore, get back inside.” Tom’s hand is on my shoulder, but I shrug it away, my eyes focussing on Fernanda.
“What’s wrong?” I say to her, and she gulps up at me, her eyes flickering all over my face. “Nanda-”
“I’m sorry.” She interrupts, pressing her lips together. “I’m sorry, I should have told you before, but he told me to keep it from you-”
“What are you talking about?” I asked her, and her breath shook as she looked up at me, her lips quivering.
“Antony.” She whispers, and my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He’s getting married.”
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