Source Of Sorrow [BoyXBoy]

.:9:.

Just as I sat down at Brendon's usual table, during breakfast, Alex barged into the cafeteria in his full glory and, with a sloppy grin, he headed towards us. I was greeted with a warm hug, which I highly enjoyed, and Alex nodded to Brendon as a greeting as well as lock eyes with him for a few seconds before going back to brightly smiling at me all over again.

It felt like he had forgotten – or at least wanted me to forget – about what happened yesterday, when he just blew up and marched out of my room as if I had insulted his great ancestors or cursed his children and the children of their children. This really showed just how truly bipolar and unpredictable he was, with all of these mood swings. Sometimes, he was like a time bomb.

Alex sat down next to me and snuggled close, softly placing a hand on my thigh. I did not mind though. With other people, I would have swatted them away or awkwardly left, but, with Alex, I felt comforted by his touch, as if it was my safety blanket in a world of nightmares. I was starting to worry myself with how attached I was getting, but it was only natural to feel close to someone you had been spending a lot of time with. I also found it nice that he did not mind the fact that I sat with Brendon a lot. It was almost like the relief you feel when your best friend and boyfriend get along. Not that I wanted Alex to be my boyfriend or anything...

Why was I having these thoughts anyway? Oh yeah, because I'm gay. Ha ha!

I decided that, today, I was going to take Alex outside. I did not even know that you could do that, until Brendon told me so and I assumed that it was exactly what Alex needed. Maybe then he would open up to me more and we could finally make some progress, so that I could go back to living my life the way I wanted to. Don't get me wrong, this is not bad; it just isn't what I truly want to do with myself. That was mainly the reason why I had worked so hard to be able to live with my disorders: so that I could be like everyone else.

After a silent breakfast of groggy cereal, I waved a goodbye to Brendon and dragged Alex along with me to the only double door which lead to the outside. Naturally it needed a key card, and I did not have one, so I had to quickly pop into the spacious staff room to ask for one. A doctor - who I was not very familiar with, but saw while walking around the building sometimes – reluctantly handed me one and seemed keen on getting me out of the room. Maybe he was doing something incredibly important and did not want any distractions. After all, there was no one else in the room.

Just like I politely asked him to, Alex waited by the door with his arms crossed over his plainly covered chest. We made our way outside into the fenced area with ease, spotting a few groups and pairs hanging around there too. A rule of the clinic was that patients were permitted to go outside, but only under the supervision of a doctor. I must have been obviously considered a doctor, as the only thing I was asked when given the key card was 'who are you going with?' and I answered truthfully.

Stepping outside was like taking a breath after being underwater for agonising hours. It was like a shot of adrenaline, straight into the veins and through the begging bloodstream which craved to be filled with that emotion. I loved being outside; even if I was constantly being alienated from the rest of the normal world, it made me feel more alive than ever before.

Especially after being locked up inside for so long; at least, that's what it felt like with the constant security checks and health and safety control. Sometimes it was like I was different from all the other doctors, in a very significant way: as if I was a patient myself. I mainly had these emotions, because I was jealous. I desired having the ability to leave at any time I wanted to see my loving and caring family or my enjoyable friends. It was like a part of my much-needed teenage years was taken away by stupid financial problems and stupid mental disorders and stupid boys who needed help. But I did not blame Alex; he had nothing to do with the decisions that were made.