Sixteen, Clumsy, and Shy

Chapter 6: You Knew Very Well What Was Coming Next

Johnny walked out of Morrissey's house, his legs still feeling a bit wobbly from the kiss. Even he didn't expect that, and he was the one who kissed Morrissey. Today had been good -- not only had he had a good day with a good friend, but it turned out that that good friend reciprocated his more-than-friendly feelings toward him. Johnny walked along with a spring in his step, thinking of how the rest of the night may play out.

Before he knew it he was in front of his house and walking up the drive. It was about 5:15 by this time. He fumbled for his keys in his pocket, then unlocked the door to find the house dark. All the shades were drawn and the television was left on some random station, and Johnny sighed as he saw his dad passed out drunk in an armchair, five empty beer bottles on the floor next to him and one left in his hand. "Bloody great," he sighed, rolling his eyes. This wasn't an uncommon sight for Johnny, so he simply flipped off the tv and yanked the bottle out of his hand, setting it on the floor so he wouldn't drop it later and get a stain on the carpet.

He huffed and went into the kitchen, heating up some leftover macaroni to have for dinner before he went over to Morrissey's (though they would probably eat there too, he just figured he should eat a little something beforehand). He then went upstairs, grabbing a black duffel bag off the top shelf of his closet and putting it on his bed, along with a change of clothes for tomorrow. He then went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, stepping into the warm water. He wanted to look good for Moz, after all. Thoughts of the taller boy filled his head as he scrubbed his unruly black hair, and he smiled at the thought of how potentially good this could be.

He was still thinking of his -- boyfriend? He didn't quite know where they stood -- as he stepped out of the shower and dried himself with a towel, which he then wrapped around himself; he couldn't suppress the smile that had fought its way onto his face. He brushed and blow dried his hair, getting some gel and teasing it up a bit in the back, and then grabbed his toothbrush and hairbrush on the way out of the bathroom. He changed into some clean clothes -- blue jeans and a casual button-down -- and put the remaining items he needed in his bag. He finished getting ready (it looked like he was cutting it close with time, it was already 6:50 and it usually took around 15 minutes to walk to Morrissey's house, possibly more), and began to walk down the hallway when he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Where the hell d'ya think you're goin'?" Johnny's father slurred, standing menacingly by the door.

"I'm spending the night at a friend's. I'll be back tomorrow." Johnny tried to avoid eye contact with his drunk father as he slinked toward the doorway, but his father pushed his shoulder.

"No yer not, boy," he sneered. "Ya know... I'm tired'a you. Hangin' out with your no good friends, lookin' like a sodden faggot all the time. Didn't yer old man teach you nothin'?"

Johnny cowered slightly at the insult, and at the memory of just what his father had been teaching him all his life. He and his beer and his fists, and occasionally his belt. He took a breath. "Please just let me go."

His father let out a chuckle, raising his eyebrows at him. "Let ya go? I don' think so." He took a step towards him and Johnny took a step back.

"Where's mum?" Johnny asked, hoping to distract his father.

"Your mummy? She yelled at me for drinkin' and told me she'd be back, she 'needed to go somewhere else for a few hours'. The whore." He spat the last part, and Johnny's anger instantly rose.

Not thinking about the potential consequences, he snapped, "Don't you fucking talk about my mum that way! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of you!" After his minor explosion, Johnny silenced himself and looked up in fear at his father and what he knew was coming next.