A Foreign Touch

A Foreign Touch {10}

                                                                             Matt's POV

     I was in the bathroom for no more than twenty minutes when I heard the door open then slam shut. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Please don't be coach. I pull my feet up onto the toilet seat and try not to make any sounds. Just quietly waiting for the unknown person to leave. What happened next was something I didn't expect. I heard a faint, soft sob. Something seems off here.

     As discreetly as I could manage, I slide my feet down to the floor, once more. I put my iPod and earbuds back into my pocket and slid the lock of my stall open. Just as I suspected, someone double-over sobbing. Honestly, I felt bad for the guy. What would make him hide into men's restroom and cry? I cautiously walk towards the tearful character, but to my luck, the bathroom stall slams behind me. Great.

     "Christ!" they say, their head bolting up.

     "Shit, sorry man," I say, slightly cringing to the echo, "Wait, Ryan? Is that you?" With that he is up on his feet wiping away the stray tears from his cheeks.

     "Uh, yeah," Ryan returned.

     "Ry, are you okay? What's wrong?"

     "Ha, yeah, I mean, um, nothing. Nothing's wrong. I promise!"

     "Yeah, okay. Then why are you crying?"

     "Trust me. I'm fine," he stated, tears welling up again.

     "Ryan, don't cry! It's okay," I say trying my best to cheer him up. Then again, I'm not much of a comforter.

     "Oh, god. I'm such a pussy!" he cries running towards me. Suddenly his arms are wrapped tightly around my torso. His touch felt... strange. I mean, not bad, just... foreign. Yes, he had a foreign touch. I like it.

     "Woah, okay," I say, hugging him back, "You're not a pussy. Now tell me what's wrong." By that time he was crying hysterically. He obviously couldn't answer my question. But I could tell he was trying. All I really heard was muffled sobs and a couple coughs in between.

     "Ry, I can't understand you," I chuckle. I rub patterns into his back, yet another failed attempt at comforting him. We stand there hugging for about another minute or so when I hear the door open. I couldn't let go of Ryan, I was enjoying it. But, I couldn't continue to hold him! What would they think? So I just stand there like a complete idiot holding some other guy in my arms as he cries. The poor guy had a foot into the bathroom when we made eye contact. He stands there like a deer in the headlights, pale as a ghost. He then slowly inches out and closes the door behind him. God, I feel so bad for him! What was he thinking?

     I peal Ryan from my chest and he looks me in the eyes. His once beautiful brown-green eyes are now red and puffy.

     "What was that?" he asked.

     "Nothing," I say, shaking my head, "Now, tell what's wrong."

     "Well," he starts, putting his back against the wall, slowing inching down towards the floor, "It's hard for me to explain, really. I just, like, broke down, I guess. It just happened. My mind fucks me over a lot."

     "Don't worry. I have the same problem," I sigh, sliding down the wall as well.

     "Really?"

     "Yeah... I have anxiety and shit."

     "Oh, wow. Sorry about that. I'm just overreacting."