Roommates (BoyxBoy)

2

A/N- Hopefully you guys liked Darren's character introduction! Now enjoy Gary's! Love ya! - Demi

|Gary Ray Booth|

An exit should be just as astounding as an entrance, right?

At least that's what my Mother says. And, today, she has this quote posted over the refridgerator door. I guess this is a farewell quote. I couldn't fucking care less.

Opening the coke I got from the fridge, I pad my feet across the hardwood floor towards my room and enter it, taking a large gulp of the ice cold beverage. My room is warm, and is still covered, wall-to-wall with Playboy posters and calendars. None of which I plan to get rid of in the near future.

"They go in the trash as soon as college starts," my Mother, Cadence Booth, had said not two weeks ago.

Sure, mom, if the trash means a trash bag with the label Gary's Private Yet Essential Items then I've certainly struck gold. My dresser mirror catches my attention, and I take a moment to stare at my reflection.

I am only in boxers. I look down to see a huge bulge in my crotch area and I decide to get dressed. I go with a blue tanktop that says Cali Chicks Love Cali Pricks, black Levi jeans, and blue Converse. I scratch at the stubble leading down to my neck. Bags of clothing and other supplies necessary for sirvival sit by the door. I notice this as I emerge from my now-cleared-of-all-things-Playboy room. With a trash bag of course. My mother has already packed.

My dad, John Booth (scary, I know) sits on the couch watching Law and Order. He's probably evil enough to have actually killed Abraham Lincoln in the theatre (hence his name). I digress.

My father is 39, a total asshole, and has never said one meaningful thing to me in my whole 18-year-old life. "Hey, Dad." I say.

"You're really gonna wear that shirt on the first day?" he says.

See what I mean?

"It's college father..." I sigh and make my way toward the bathroom, "No one cares what you wear. As Long as I don't go nude." I hear my father grunt, and I chuckle as I close the bathroom door behind me. I love when he gets pissed off.

Opening the bathroom cabinet, I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth. Then I get my Invisalign Teen transparent dentures, and put them on. I lightly chew to get the dentures secured into the right place. My hair is messy, so I brush it to the side and leave the bathroom.

I am not very happy about going to college. The fact that I actually received as much grants as I did at my high school surprises me. I had no idea there was a grant for being bisexual. I just thought gay guys got an LGBT grant, but surprisingly I passed for it as well. 3,000 dollars of grant money to go into my college tuition. My mother was beside herself. My father? Not so much. The asshole still thinks that bisexuality is invalid.

"Gary, honey!" my Mother calls from upstairs.

What the fuck do you want?

"Yes, mom?" I say instead. I walk up the rickety steps toward my parents bedroom and stand in the doorway.

The bedroom is made all of wood, amd the ceiling consists of many panelled windows overlooking leaves, branches, and a grand sky. A queen sized bed stands in the corner of the room, and a perfectly polished bathroom is off of the bedroom. My mother sits on her neatly done bed clicking away on her iPhone.

My Mother cares for nobody except for herself and her work. Not her husband (which I understand), not her one and only child. I was a "surprise baby" which forced my Mother to drop out of college in order to have me at 19 years. This means that she is 38. My father is 39, I think.

"I just want to say goodbye," she says, standing up and coming towards me. She gives me a hug, which I do not accept, and pulls away.

"You're... not dropping me off?" I ask, a look of disbelief on my face.

"No, honey, I have a meeting this afternoon. Derek said that there's this other competing law firm that opened up around the corner, so we-" She is cut off by the ringing of her cell phone. "Hold on."

Typical mother. She doesn't care about me, and I don't care about her. Same with my father. "No I'll just go by myself. It's only a couple of miles. I'll call a taxi or an uber."

"Are you sure, honey? 'Cause I can-"

"NO MOM, I'LL BE FINE. You don't give a fuck about me anyway..." I leave her room and begin to walk downstairs.

With that, she comtinues to talk om her phone, and I'm surprised that she didn't come down to yell at me after I cursed at her. But I don't care. They won't even miss me when I leave. I get my phone from the table, call an uber driver, bring my stuff out to the curb, and wait. It isn't until the uber driver gets here that I let a tear fall from my left eye.

Freedom is a scary thing.