Book I: to cross oceans for [BxB] (trans) - completed

Monday Mornings - Sean

I was late. Again.

Of course I was. It was practically a family tradition. One my big brother had proudly upheld when he was in high school. And probably now that he was in College, if I was being honest.

The bad habit had been passed down to me. And no matter how innocent the big idiot claimed to be, I was convinced it was all his fault. Even if he sometimes tried to convince me it wasn't a bad thing, since it turned out to be his one reliable trait.

Bursting into the kitchen in a flurry of a half opened backpack and messy hair, I dodged the bacon filled frying pan my mom was carrying from the stove to the counter. As well as the gaelic curse she muttered in my direction.

I half turned and blew her a desperate kiss, flinging my backpack on the counter next to the pan. The abrupt movement made the ziper burst and the contents came spilling happily to the floor.

"Fuck!" I half shouted trying and failing miserably to stop the flow of books, pens and erasers, as well as other random objects. My hands moved frantically, trying to stop the cascading objects from colliding with the floor.

"Language!" my mom chastised me, batting my hands away from the mess and effortlessly stopping the spilling contents in midair.

The woman was a magician. Seriously. There was no other explanation.

"You literally just cursed at me! Not ten seconds ago." I argued, straightening the wrinkles on my uniform shirt with my hands. It was a pointless endeavour, I knew that. But it didn't stop me from trying. Maybe if I rubbed my hands together? Friction created heat and heat resulted in wrinkle-free clothes, right? That was how it worked.

"Yes, but I am old and set in my ways. Plus, I raised you to be better than me." She gave me a dry smile and set my closed backpack on the floor next to the table.

I pointed stupidly at it, wondering how she'd managed to fit all the random crap I carried to school in it and close it. I could've sworn the ziper had just given up on me.

"Here, change." She said, handing me a wrinkle-free and beautifully folded uniform shirt.

I took it from her hands and with Herculean effort, resisted the urge to press the warm fabric to my face. Sighing happily and wearing what I was sure was a sleepy-goofy smile, lifted my eyes and opened my mouth to thank her. And hesitated.

She stared at me, her eyes flickering between me and the shirt expectantly. Her blond hair framing her head and face looked like a messy halo. The curls puffy and sticking up in seemingly random directions. Probably because her idea of a hairdo involved running her fingers multiple times through the strands and calling it a day.

Did she expect me to change in front of her? I hadn't done that since I was ten and she'd never asked about it or even casually mentioned anything.

But lately I found her soft brown eyes lingering on me. Especially when she came into my room and I scrambled to cover myself, even though I was obsessed with wearing layers of bulky clothes all hours of the day in an effort to keep any bumps or curves from showing.

I was half convinced she knew the truth I was struggling so hard to keep buried. But she never asked. Not even on the frequent times I stood in front of her, face burning with embarrassement, clutching the blanket to my chest even though I was fully clothed behind it.

"Be right back." I blurted, turning from her sweet open face and walking briskly to the guest bathroom.

Once the door was closed, I slumped against it and took a deep breath.

After realising I was crushing the freshly pressed shirt with my hands, I hurried to change out of the wrinkled shirt and slipped my arms into the pressed one.

I stood in front of the mirror, fingers poised to close the buttons and scanned my binder, making sure I hadn't missed one of the thousand tinny hooks in my haste to put it on after being rudely awakened by my alarm clock not ten minutes ago.

After straightening it and making sure all bumps were properly concealed, I buttoned my shirt, tucked it into my pants and adjusted my belt.

Tossing the wrinkled shirt on the back of the couch, I hissed playfully at Migh, who was lounging lazily among the dozens of cushions my mom was obsessed with buying. The one year old Tabby cat glanced at me and then went back to observing the empty spaces in the living room. I shook my head and stormed back into the kitchen, plopping myself on my usual chair. I was nothing if not a creature of habit.

"Eat slowly." My mom admonished me as I did my best to scarf down the eggs and bacon and drink orange juice at the same time.

"Be late." I said, clearly capable only of Neanderthal-like responses when inhaling food.

She chuckled and shook her head, calmly pouring herself orange juice.

"At this point, don't your teachers expect you to be a little late? Give yourself an extra five minutes and eat like a human being."

"Danny." I mumbled in between mouthfulls.

She pursed her lips but didn't say anything. Even though I knew what she was probably thinking. My mother would never tell me to stop hanging out with him or to not be his friend anymore. She was too compassionate to be that cruel. But that didn't mean she agreed with how much time I spent with him. Especially since a good amount of that time was spent getting him out of trouble or picking up the pieces of whatever mess of his own creation he was ass-deep in. I was also convinced she knew how I felt about him. Even if it was yet another thing she had never directly asked me about.

"Time." I grunted, polishing off my plate and hurrying out of the kitchen and back to my bathroom to brush my teeth and finish getting ready. Trying to fix my hair turned out to be yet another failed endeavour because I'd apparently inherited my mother's ideas about hairdos when it came to my short curls.

Five minutes later, I was back in the living room trying to put on my beanie and zip up my jacket at the same time.

"Are you gonna need the car today?" I asked stepping into the kitchen to grab my backpack.

"No, baby. The beast is all yours."

"Thanks. See ya." I gave her a quick peck on the cheeks and hurried to the door, snagging the car keys on my way out.

"You know, all of this reflects very poorly on my parenting skills. You're basically setting me up to be a bad mom!" Was her amused parting remark as the door closed behind me.
I snorted and shook my head.

A blast of cold air swept over my flushed face and I gave an involuntary shiver.

Bending my head against the wind, I took a deep breath and let my feet carry me over the familiar path to my neighbour's house.

Time to face whatever shit show awaited me.