One More Night With You [BoyXBoy]

.:23:.

Sorry kinda short and dull, but I've got to tie some loose ends before the next chapter, which is also the final chapter.

Enjoy.

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My father passed away.

I had gotten pulled out of my physics class by the principal himself. I was quickly wondering whether I had done something wrong: maybe he noticed how my grades had dropped or the fact that I had started skipping lessons. But instead, he was just quiet and I later found out that it was because he wanted me to find out from my mother and not from him. The only thing he told me himself was a reminder that I could see the school's counsellor any time I wanted.

Mum was waiting for me in his office with a grave expression on her face and I instantly knew without having to be told that a tragedy had happened. She hugged me and I cried, whereas she was already out of tears, having heard the news earlier. Then, we left together, with my principal calling after me that it would be okay for me to stay home for a few days. I appreciated it.

My father's death was like a stab to the chest. It felt like I was the one dying. So many regrets were flying through my head and I just locked myself in my room to stare into space without being interrupted. My mother understood that I would need some time on my own, so she let me go.

It just hurt so much - knowing that we had missed out on so many things. Maybe if I had not pushed him away so much then he would have died much happier than he was. Once again, this all came down to me and how I was a huge fuck up. No surprise there.

I imaged everything we could have experienced together: I liked to think that he may have been supportive of my transition and, with him living with us, I could have been on HRT right now; I wondered what his reaction would have been to the pregnancy, but I just visualised it as a good one of smiles and congratulations. I wished he could have at least seen me graduate.

Unfortunately, I was pulled from my train of thought by a distant knock I heard on our front door. For some reason, my mind instantly jumped to Vic, as if I hoped that it was him.

I stayed in my room because, if it had been him, my mum would call for me. Instead, I heard the talking of two female voices, which surprised me. Maybe I was imagining it, but my mum sounded quite flustered.

After a few minutes, I heard my name being called loudly, "Kellin!"

I sluggishly hopped off my bed and walked out into the short hallway, before entering the tiny living room. Sitting on one couch was my mum; on the other was a lady I had never seen before. She was dressed formally with a blue blazer and a matching pencil skirt. She held a folder with many sheets of paper within it. Usually, I would have held out my hand to her or at least offered a greeting, but I did not feel up to doing anything.

"Hello, you must be Kellin," the lady smiled warmly. I did not return it and just sat next to my mother, staring at the ground.

She clearly realised that I was not about to be friendly, so she just carried on talking. "This must be an awfully hard time for you, and I'm sorry for barging in like this, but I am here to inform you of what your husband," she motioned to mum, then to me, "and father has left in his will."

My interest sparked at her words. This here was essentially the last wish of my father and a show of how much everyone truly meant to him. Honestly I would not be surprised if he did not leave me anything after how bad our relationship was.

It was worrying how death brought people closer than life ever could.

"He had split his will between his closest family," the woman carried on, motioning to us. This also must have included Callum.

I doubted that he had very much to leave. Most of his money (and our money too) had been going towards his treatment. He definitely had something left though and, as heartless as it sounded, we really needed it.

"70% of his money was left to Callum," the lady said, apparently on a first name basis with everyone.

This was not surprising at all: Callum was the perfect son he always wanted, Callum never left him, Callum helped him through the health problems. A couple of weeks together could not rebuild an entire relationship between a father and his son - or daughter, as he thought. I had it coming but, nonetheless, it slightly shattered me that he left 70% to Callum and supposedly only 30% to me. I wish he would have cared more for me.

"He left the other 30% to..." The woman paused for a second to check her sheet. I leaned back with a sigh, wholeheartedly expecting her to utter my stupid name, when she looked up and said, "Mary."

Mary. He left the rest of what he owned to my mother. My father had split what he owned between my mum and my brother, and I was left with nothing. I felt broken to pieces.

I had expected him to be harsh towards me, but to not leave me anything - not a single thing - did not seem cruel enough even for someone on their deathbed to do. He could not have hated me enough for that, because the things he had told me were too genuine. But, what if, at the time, he was just faking it to please me and make me not feel like shit so much? - just like I had been doing to him with my gender and pregnancy.

My mum looked at me and I was sure her expression mirrored mine, or maybe she was even more heartbroken than me. I knew why: she wanted to assure me a better future than the one which I was looking forward to right now, and we needed the money for it. To not be left anything felt like I had been stabbed in the back.

"And to Kellin," the lady continued, making my head snap in her direction. What was left? What more could he have to give? I was about to find out, "he leaves his house, in Michigan."

The first thing I felt was relief that my dad had not completely neglected me from his will. The next things I felt were confusion and even slight hysteria: he left me a house. A fucking house. What was I, a 17 year old boy who lived in California, supposed to do with a house all the way in Michigan? Was my dad insane?

I looked to my mum for help, slightly hopelessly. She seemed confused but maybe quite pleased too. I guess a house was better than nothing, but what could I do with it?

After a few more conversations with my mum, the lady left, having had completed her task. Sitting in my place and not moving, I felt quite blank. The distraction was gone and the thoughts of my father's death had resurfaced.

But, before I could be pulled into the depths of my mind, I heard a little ding which signalled that I had received a text. I fished out my phone from my pocket, and gave a small huff at seeing Vic's name. I was not sure how I felt about us right now. However, as soon as I opened up the text, my face fell.

'I think we should break up'

A huge lump formed in my throat, feeling like it was about to block my airways and my eyes instantly widened. I yelled out, "Mum!"

The woman came rushing in from her room, hearing how broken my voice sounded and probably expecting something awful to have happened.

"What? What is it? Are you okay?" She said desperately, running up to me and quickly surveying my body, especially the lump which was my stomach, for any signs of harm.

"Mum, I fucked up," I said, tears forming in my eyes as I looked up at her face. "I fucked up and I don't know what to do."