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〖 chapter thirteen ⋆soaring, flying 〗
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The boy stood in front of his mirror. It was fogged up from the shower and he took his hand to swipe away a clear path for him to look at himself through, seeing his eyes – lost, dead. He looked tired, and he was. He needed to sleep but he had to do so much before he'd be able to unwind.
He looked at the door, glancing over with the knowledge that his parents' room was just so close out there. They might even be able to hear him. And he remembered the words of his father, what a disgrace he would be if he knew – what a disappointment, a sinner.
But it was who he was. He would be the sinner, the disappointment – he wanted to be that. He wanted to have the freedom to be that, but he was bound with the curse of desperately pretending to be the Golden Boy. Their perfect trophy to show off with the perfect life that they led them towards. They could take all the credit.
No, he couldn't. Not tonight. He was lone tonight, terribly but lovingly alone. He had no one to control him, to watch over and make sure he played his role perfectly, almost as if it were him. There was no one he had to pretend for, he could try to be himself that night. He could try to loosen the mask, let himself breath, because he needed it.
"I'm okay," he whispered to himself, an obvious lie. A white lie told with a sincere-looking smile that made other people believer that he was. "I'm me, and I can be me."
He wanted to soar. He wanted to fly and feel the wind in his face, a rushing excitement that he loved more than anything. That freedom, that carelessness, no façade to uphold. Free – what a wonderful thing to dream about.
"I'm not a disappointment," he told himself in the mirror, "I'm not a disgrace. I am me."
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The day passed with no excitement. Everything happened as it usually did and he smiled and laughed, he never looked at Peter even though the boy sent him texts throughout the day which he responded to. He still wasn't talking to his father, which caused for some very awkward dinners, and his mother and sister still didn't know what they were arguing about – what was so bad that they couldn't even look at each other. He was still so disgusted by what his father had said and his dad was still appalled that his own son would disagree with him.
It was because of Peter. Peter, the precious boy who he really liked – who was so patient and kind with him, who understood and never pushed him into anything he didn't want. He was wonderful, truly wonderful, and he was lucky to have the boy. He'd be lucky for every day that Peter could put up with him until eventually it all became too much and he had to leave. It was okay, he accepted long ago that this would happen.
