Behind Closed Doors ✔️

40

I blink at Fernanda. She stares at me, her skin pale and her eyes wide. Slowly, my head shakes, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion and I’m frowning, trying to understand what she just told me. “What…” I scoffed, glancing back at Tom, whose jaw was clenched and his head was bowed. “What are you talking about?” 

“My dad’s been planning it for months, Antony didn’t know.” Fernanda swallows, and she licks her bottom lip before looking back up at me. “I should have told you, I know I should have. I just… he made me swear I wouldn’t say anything.” She tells me, but I’ve zoned out. I’m trying to understand- to comprehend what the fuck’s going on, but I can’t. I can’t wrap my head around it or understand it and it’s driving me crazy. 

“Hold on-” I squeezed my eyes shut, and Fernanda’s hands shook from her side. “He’s getting… married? To who?” I asked her, and she shrugged her shoulders. 

“A woman from back home, I think.” She shrugs her shoulders, and a weight fills my breathing. My throat clogs up, and I’m frantic. Antony is getting married. He’s getting married. To a woman. My lips quiver. 

I feel Thomas’s hand on my bicep as he tries to pull me back into the house. “Theo, come inside. You need to-” I shrug him away from me, pushing his shoulder. “Theo.” He pleads, desperately this time. “You can’t just-” 

“Fuck off, Thomas.” I snapped, and his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching. I step out of the house, slamming the door behind me. Fernanda stared up at me, and I was freezing, but I wasn’t bothered. “When?” I looked down at her, noticing the way her cheeks were red from the cold. 

“I don’t know.” She murmurs. “A few weeks, I think.” 

“A few weeks.” I repeat, mostly to myself. I cover my mouth with both of my hands, not blinking. “Right. Where is he? Is he at home?” I asked her, but she shrugs her shoulders once more. 

“No, I don’t know. He left a few hours ago, but-” She presses her lips together and I push past her, looking to my side to where, in the distance, I could see the field that was at the end of my street. I know where Antony is. I needed to get to him. I needed to speak to him before I did anything else. Before I said anything or talked to anyone, I needed to see him. To look at him and see that he’s alright. I needed it like I needed oxygen to survive. 

The door opens behind me and my whole family is standing there, gawking at me and Fernanda. I sniffle, pushing my hands into the pocket of my hoodie, and walking away, towards the field. “Theodore!” I hear my mum calling after me, but I lower my head and continue walking. No one follows after me. “Theo!” She screams once more, but I ignore it. I ignore all her pleas and my walk quickly turns into a run as I rush down the street and through the gate to the field.

I take a breath of fresh air before my jog transforms into a run as I run and run past the length of the field. My lungs burnt, but it was worth it. All of this pain and anguish and anger was worth it for Antony, to make sure he was alright. 

I finally make it to the bridge, and that’s when I see his silhouette. The darkness shadowed over him as he crouched down in the middle of the bridge, his back resting against the railing. A cigarette was limp in his hand and I rushed over to him, the cold biting at my skin like a snake. 

When Antony hears me, he looks up, his eyes bloodshot and the tip of his nose red from the cold. He wore nothing but a thin shirt and basketball shorts. He looked like he would rather freeze to death than see me. His eyes were glazed over and his jaw was locked and his lips were in a thin, straight line as he looked up at me, no emotion on his face. “What?” He snaps, and it feels like we’ve taken a thousand steps backwards. It feels as though the weight of the world has fully been shifted onto my shoulders. 

“What?” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest as I stood to the side of him. “You ignore me for two weeks, and all I get is what?” I glared at him, and he scoffs, resting the back of his head on the railing. 

“Your brother told me to stay away from you. That’s what I’ve been doing.” He shrugged his shoulders, and I pressed my lips together. Of course Thomas warned him. Of course he did. 

“Since when do you listen or even care what other people say?” I asked him, throwing my hands into the air. The cold air hits me fiercely. Antony takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air. 

And it hurts. It hurt so bad to see him shut me out like this, to push me away whenever there’s an inconvenience. It makes me want to scream and shout until my throat is sore. It makes me so damn angry, yet so upset because Antony wouldn’t be like this, so cold, if it wasn’t for his father. His hateful, spiteful, homophobic father who can’t comprehend that his son is gay.