angel | dealor

sixteen

My headache had seriously gotten worse by the time I arrived at John's front door. I'd run most of the way. Well, I'd run halfway and stopped at the small cluster of shops. I'd found a fiver in my jacket pocket and it was enough for me to buy him a bunch of flowers, it wasn't much but maybe it would sway him slightly. I'd then ran the rest of the way, not wasting any time. Just after I'd knocked on the door, however, I realised how much of a bad decision I had made. What was I doing?

I was standing on my boyfriend's doorstep in my pyjama bottoms and a fur coat which was hanging open at the front. My nipples felt like they were about to fall off, but I hadn't had time to do it up. Nor put a top on.

The door opened after a minute or so, and it was not who I'd hoped to see. Instead of John, in front of me stood a short, angry lady, with wavy brown hair. John's mother. And she did not look happy to see me.

Shit.

"Well, Mr Taylor. What exactly are you doing here?" She knew. She knew what I'd done. "And why aren't you dressed?"

"I need to speak to John. Please, Ms Deacon. Please let me talk to him.." I may as well have been begging on my knees. At that point, I was willing to do practically anything to see John and apologise.

"He doesn't want to talk to you," She stated, folding her arms across her chest. "And I don't blame him."

"Please, Ms Deacon. I... I'll do anything... Just give us five minutes? I just want to see him..." I begged, tears threatening to spill from my eyes once more. I didn't want to give in again, didn't want to appear weak. But they were coming.

"Five minutes," She muttered, "Fine. Five minutes is all. He is upstairs. If he tells you to leave, you are straight out this door, hear me?" I nodded, biting my lip. She was trying to protect him from getting hurt. I wished that was still my job.

She let me in and I took my shoes off by the door, hurrying upstairs and knocking on his bedroom door. I heard a faint 'come in' and pushed the door open, revealing John's room to still have the blind lowered and the light off.

"Mum, if you're trying to feed me breakfast again, I'm not hungry," He murmured. His voice was scratchy, as if he'd not long woken up.

"It's, um... Am I okay to put the light on, John?" I asked, not wanting to startle him. I got a confused mumble in response, but it sounded positive so I flicked the light switch and stepped into the room, closing the door behind me. I could make out the shape of a body laying beneath the duvet, which was pulled right up above the person's head. "It's me, John. I- Um, I brought you these.." I held the flowers out towards him, suddenly feeling stupid. I'd showed up out of the blue, hardly dressed and with a tear stained face, with a bunch of flowers and no proper plan. What the hell was I meant to do? How do you fix such a shit situation? A shituation, if you will.

Slowly, John turned over in the bed and pulled the covers away from his face. For a second his expression was confused, then it turned stone cold.

"I don't want to see you."

"John, please. Hear me out. Take the flowers?" I pleaded, stepping over and laying them on the bed. He sighed, looking down at them as if I'd just handed him an explosive. His gaze then landed on me, his eyes raking up and down my body at a painfully slow pace.

Eventually, he spoke. "You're a mess," He told me, sighing. "Where's your shirt? And.. Are those pyjamas?"

"I didn't have time to get dressed... I had to come and apologise. What I did was out of order, John. And... I don't know what I can do to make you forgive me.." I grovelled on, dropping my gaze to my feet. I felt stupid.

"You're right. You were completely out of order. I trusted you, Rog. You really hurt me," John said, sitting up properly and pulling his knees to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin in the dip between his legs. "I don't know if I can forgive you for that." That's not what I wanted to hear. Hell, anything else would be better. "I love you, Rog... I wish I didn't." Never mind. Not quite anything else, that was definitely worse.

"John.. I-I promise to be better, please... Please take me back... Fuck, please..." By this point I was quite literally begging on my knees, my eyes sweating once again. "I love you, John.."

"I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear your shitty excuses. You've done it before, you'll do it again. I should have listened and not got involved.." He mumbled his way through his speech, avoiding looking at me at all costs.

"It was a shitty mistake. I wasn't thinking... Yes, okay. Fine, it's not the first time it's happened. What I'm gonna say now makes me seem like an awful person, but I hope you get my point. I've cheated before, John. And every time I did, I'd wake up the next morning and feel fine. I felt no guilt. I felt no need to apologise, or-or to beg for forgiveness, or... I didn't give a shit! If they were hurt, sucks for them. If they wanted to end it, I didn't care. You... You're different. You're..." I trailed off, having to rub the tears away from my eyes. I was starting to get choked up, reality hitting me like a brick. I couldn't get John back. I'd had my perfect opportunity to be happy with a wonderful person, and I'd fucked it up. "You're incredible, John... I can't lose you. I can't lose my best friend, the one person I truly care for. John, you're the first person I've ever loved, and I really wanted you to be the last."

There was a long silence in the room, John was clearly mulling over what I'd said, all whilst trying to figure out how to respond. I wouldn't be shocked if he hadn't heard most of it, a lot of it was just incoherent mumbling as I tried to vent my feelings.

"You're right. You're an ass. I don't want to see you right now. Let it settle. I'll see you on Tuesday, Roger."

He wouldn't speak to me after that, and sure enough his mum came upstairs after realising I'd been a little more than five minutes and escorted me downstairs and out the front door.

I'd ruined it all.