HELPLINE

NINETEEN

N I N E T E E N

I S A A C

➵ a month and a half later

It's the first day of my first half term (as a teacher) and Henry is making lunch; pasta, naturally. It's kind of adorable, to be honest, but I'm trying not to show him that. Even though his jeans are pretty hot.

"Hen," I called.

Hen was his new nickname. It made me laugh everytime. "Hen! Like... the... the animal!" He just stared at me every time.

"Yep?"

"Are you a murderer?"

"What?" he asked, sounding extremely alarmed and appearing in the doorway. There was a piece of pasta in his hair, but i decided not to mention it.

Best not to go there.

"Because those jeans are absolutely killer."

"Oh my God," he groaned, and hurried back to the kitchen. This time, I followed him.

"Do you like waking up with no regrets and a man that knows how to hold you?"

Silence.

"Do you believe in global warming? Because I think we just broke the ice."

More silence.

"Do you believe in love at first sight? Because -"

"I could walk by again," he said, bursting out laughing. "Fuck. I love pick-up lines."

I snatched a piece of bread from the plate. "I heard the kids trying them out at school. Thought i'd use them at home."

"Lunch is ready," he announced, carrying the two bowls of pasta and the bread over to the table. "And really? I can't imagine Holly using a pick-up line."

Henry had met Holly the week before when he'd come to pick me up for lunch. She had immediately christened him her "gay best friend".

"Is she still doing the gay best friend thing?" I asked, sitting down.

Henry sighed. "She's texted me three times about which pair of jeans she should buy. I might just tell her the wrong ones so she'll unfriend me."

I snorted. "she's sweet, though."

"Yeah."

We lapsed into a short silence. I kept opening my mouth and closing it again: I had something to say, but I wasn't sure how to say it.

"Isaac, you look like a goldfish," Henry said sternly, spearing a piece of pasta on his fork and waving it in my face. "What's up?"

"Well," I said uncertainly. "Y-y'know how you told me about your dad? About how he didn't -"

"Accept the idea of me being gay and chucked me out, yeah," Henry said dismissively. "What's your point?"

I stuttered for a second. "Well, I was thinking... maybe you should give him a second chance?"

Henry laughed. "Are you kidding?"

"N- no. I mean, my parents were fine with it, so obviously I don't know how it feels. But you could be the bigger person."

"Bigger person? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No," I whispered. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

We both fell quiet again, but it was awkward - and, in Henry's case, angry. I tried eating a bite of pasta; it had gone cold.

"Why did you bring it up?" Henry asked, after a couple of minutes. He wasn't looking at me.

I shrugged. "I don't like the thought of him being angry with you. He's your dad."

"You don't like it? How do you think -"

"Because I love you, Hen," I said patiently. "I want what's best for you."

He softened slightly at that. "You do?"

"Of course."

"Well, then," he said, his expression changing, "let's go and visit him. My dad."

"Are you sure?" I asked, slightly baffled at the sudden turnaround. "When?"

"How about tomorrow?"

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a.n: edited 4 / 12 / 15