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 knock on the door of Fernanda's flat, stuffing my hands into my pocket. It's been a few days and I've given the situation time to simmer before I showed up, but it seemed as though the time was right. It took a while for the door to open, but when it did, Fernanda stood at the door, looking completely frantic. My eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong?" I asked her, stepping into the flat. She quickly closed the door behind me, wrapping her arms around her body.
"Erm... shit went down a few days ago, and dad got nicked." She gulps, and my mouth drops open in shock. "I called the feds on him when he..." She tilted her head to the side, and my eyes flickered to the closed door of Antony's room.
"Is he okay?" I asked, worried filling me to the brim, and Fernanda gulped. Her eyes were wide and her skin was pale and her lips were dry, and I was so utterly confused that it threw me off. "Nanda? What happened to him?" I asked her, and she slowly shook her head.
"Theo..." She breathes, her eyes wavering. My heart was beating so hard that I could hear it in my ear and I blinked multiple times, standing a little straighter. Without thinking, I pushed past her, rushing towards Antony's room. She called out for me, but I ignored her. I threw open the door, and walked in, freezing to my place.
Antony had his back to me, and he was stuffing a few of his clothes into a gym bag. "What are you doing?" I asked him, and he turned his head to face me. I gasped in shock, stumbling back a little. Bruises. Everywhere. His eye was swollen and purple and he had a cut across his lip. My lips quiver. There was a cut on his head and across his forehead and he had a few scabs on his cheeks. His eyes waver when he sees me, but his jaw is locked and he only huffs before walking- limping- over to his wardrobe. "Antony." I whispered, trying to compose myself. Seeing him like this... it's worse than the pain of going through it myself. It stabbed me in the heart.
"I'm leaving." He replies, coldly, limping back over to the gym bag and hastily shoving his clothes into it. "Dad doesn't want a gay in his house, so I'm fucking off." He shrugged his shoulders, and he didn't even look at me as he spoke. "I would had left earlier, but I was in the hospital and then I had to give a fucking statement to the fucking feds." He admitted, and my eyes waver a little as I slowly walked towards him.
"Hospital?"
"The arsewipe almost broke my fucking knee." He answers, before he turns around, facing me. His hands were on his hips as he raised an eyebrow at me.
"Well, you can..." I shrugged my shoulders, itching my eyebrow. "You can come stay with me." I tell him, and he blinks at me before laughing.
"What- no." He scoffs, and my face drops.
"Your dad's arrested now, why do you even need to leave?" I asked him, and licked his bottom lip, rolling his eyes.
"Don't you get it? He'll be out pretty quickly. Plus, who says I wanna live in this shithouse?" He snaps, looking around his plain room. "I'm better off by myself, I know that." He tries to push past me, but I take a hold of his arm, pulling him back towards me. His jaw clenched as he stood opposite me, his eyes flickering between both of mine.
"You're not by yourself." I tell him, and he gulps, crossing his arms over his chest. "You have me, Antony. You know you're welcome at my house whenever, and you-" I take a breath, not letting myself lose eye contact with him. "I need you, man, and I can't let you walk out of here without telling you that." I tell him, pressing my lips together. Antony stares at me, his gaze flickering down before he looks away, frowning slightly.
"I don't know what you want me to do, Theo." He admits quietly.
"I want you to not leave-"
"I don't have a choice, The-"
"I thought things were different now." I mumble, stepping away from him. Antony looks down at me, his eyes darkening. "I mean- you came out, Antony. That means something to me, and it changes stuff... right?" My eyes flickered to him as he slowly shook his head, sniffing.
"It doesn't change anything." He states, his voice emotionless. "I didn't come out for you, I came out so that I didn't have to marry that bitch." He shrugs his shoulders, and my jaw clenches.
"You don't think I know that?" I snapped, turning away from him. "You know, Antony, you're gonna push me and everyone else away now, and then... then, when you feel like fucking walking back into my life and expecting me to be alright with it, I won't be." I spit at him, and he stares at me, his chest heaving up and down. "I ain't doing this again! I ain't waiting around for you to realise that you want me, because, you know what? I want you now." I snapped, pressing my finger harshly into his shoulder. Antony sighs loudly, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he lifts his gaze to the ceiling. "And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of feeling shit for you and then getting hurt when you realise that you're not fucking good enough for me."
"I never said-" He tries to interrupt, but I carry on speaking.
"Let me finish. If you're gonna leave now, then do it. Do it. But remember this..." I square up to him, my finger in his face. Antony blinks at me, his jaw clenched. "Don't you ever fucking come back." I tell him, and he steps away from me after scoffing in my face. He grabs his gym bag and walks over to his bedroom door. I was begging him. My heart was begging and my body was begging and everything was begging for him to turn around and admit it. Admit that he wanted me and I was enough for him to stay. If he didn't... he might as well walk out and never come back. It's not like he had anything to stay for. Even I wasn't enough.
I watch as he turns around, looking me in my eyes. There was so much hate and resentment on his face and I'm pretty sure he could see it reflecting on my face, too. All the anger coursing through my veins, fueling my hatred for him. My frustration that he was giving up so easily, that he wasn't fighting anymore. That's what this whole thing was about, right? When you love someone, you fight so damn hard that in the end, love prevails. Well, not in this story. Not in our story.
"You're a right arsehole, Moore, you know that?" He says to me, and it instantly takes me back to those days when the only thing between us was mutual disliking. He blinks at me, his jaw set and his lips pressed into a straight line. "Fuck you, Moore." He breathes, and it crashes through me like a hurricane.
He leaves the room. I follow after him. He storms past Fernanda, who stood in the middle of the room, tears slipping down her face. There was a ringing in my ear as she tried to stop him from leaving, but he brushed her off and made his way to the front door. He pauses for a second. A second that filled me with so much hope that I almost drowned in it. Antony bows his head. He opens the door. He steps out of the flat. Then, he leaves.
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