Somebody Else ✔

True feelings.

Cole.

Edited.

Friday after school, I sat at Angel Ender's kitchen table. He was helping me construct a creative short story, in order to study for my final exams.

I chewed on the end of my pen, not paying attention to Angel talk about syntax, and pacing. I breathed shallowly through my nose. Angel was reading over my story, and I glanced at Angel's kind, golden eyes.

But, Angel had a terrifying reputation - a reputation so fearsome I molded my own on it. Apparently, he once dangled someone off the second story balcony of Yorkie's gym, after this someone had insulted his mum.

I didn't want him to hurt anyone over me, not even my piece of shit father. Still, Mr Enders had always been my. . . Angel, I guess. Oh fuck me, that's fucking lame, I thought, rubbing my eyes.

So I swallowed and tried to smile at him. "So, you don't fight people anymore, do you?"

Angel flashed me his knuckles and said, "teachers can't get into fights." Well, that was reassuring.

"Do you know Brett's back in town?"

Mr Enders looked up from my short story, about long hot nights, girls with sorrowful eyes and butterflies and magic.  "Luke mentioned it to me," he said after a moment.

"Right. Yeah, he's been calling me heaps." As I said it, my chest became lighter. For a feebly weak second, I thought, it's okay, Mr Ender's knows what's happening and everything will be okay because of it. 

I glanced at Angel, and his blank expression quickened my heart. He didn't reply and I dropped my eyes, my fingers fiddling with the paper in front of me. The silence rang in my ears so loud it hurt.

I fled the room, my heart pounding. The fact that Brett was back just got real. The fact that I didnt know what was going to happen got real. The fact that part of me, a dark, dangerous part of me, just wanted my dad to fucking like me got real - and with that final thought, I ducked into the toilet and dry heaved for a few minutes.

I sat shaking, on the floor tiles, my head resting on the toilet seat. I balled my hands up into fists and rested them against my temples, a lump forming in my in throat.

Angel lowered himself silently by my side, his hand pressed against my back. I closed my eyes, trying to stop myself from breaking in front of him. I just got worse - until I was openly sobbing, my eyes burning. Angel rubbed his hands into my shoulders.

"You're gonna get through this," he told me. I nodded, my tears forming little pools on the seat.

Angel gently pulled me upright, and toward him. He wiped the tears off my face, and held me against his chest. I covered my face with my hands, and he ran his through my tangled hair, whispering, I've got you, I've got you, I've got you.

I took a shaky breath and laughed. Angel held me tighter. I could feel myself beginning to freak, my whole body shook and my mind raced with nonsensical thoughts and I couldn't even distinguish if I was awake or not - was I dreaming? Was I dreaming? Was I dreaming?

But Izzy's lips were pressed against my ear, whispering, what do you see? The white tiles of Mr Ender's bathroom. What do you hear? Mr Ender's saying, I've got you, I've got you, I've got you. What do you smell? The spicy cologne I bought Mr Enders for Christmas last year.