Saving Scott

10: An Itemized List Part II

An itemized list of things that happened while Lakyn and I were definitely not broken up, because we were definitely not dating:

Lakyn called it quits, but we both knew it was my fault.

***

"Can I come in?"

It wasn't 'we need to talk' but somehow, it still sounded the same. I couldn't say no to him, I didn't have a good enough reason to. "Course," I said, and moved out of his way. "Want a drink?"

Lakyn shook his head and stood awkwardly in my Living Room, the stance of a child dragged to a meeting with their parents where they didn't know anyone and nothing looked like toys. Finally he sat on the couch, drawing his legs in.

"What's going on, Lake?" I asked as I sat next to him. I kept the distance between us, it seemed like he needed that. He took a deep breath and I waited.

I wished I hadn't.

"I don't think we should do this anymore."

There it was. The lines that followed 'we need to talk'. I stared at him, and it took a long moment before he looked at me. There was nothing on his face, there never was, but his eyes were wide and searching. Like he needed to know that I understood.

"We're not doing anything, remember? You made sure of that." It was my own brand of defense to make a joke, but it fell flat.

Lakyn looked away from me, at the wall, and said, "Then I don't think we should be friends anymore."

I'd been in pain before. I'd broken my arm as a kid, taken a nasty fall off a bicycle, took one too many hits in a game. I'd cried over my mothers disappointment in a failing grade and my fathers uncaringness to things I'd hoped he'd be proud of. But nothing, nothing hurt as badly as those words.

"Why?" I asked. The way my voice cracked sounded foreign.

"Because," Lakyn said, and the fact that his own voice shook didn't help me any. "Because I'm tired of being your secret, Scott. It hurts too much. I'm tired of feeling empty when you're not around, I'm tired of knowing you'll make things better but I can't have you when I need you. I'm tired of having to shove my hands in my pockets so I don't reach for your hand at school. I'm tired of watching you fall apart, week after week, because of how you feel and what it means to you. And I know that me being so fucking tired is putting too much pressure you. It's all too hard. Harder than it's supposed to be."

He was talking like he wanted a boyfriend. I knew, because he'd thrown those words at me before. Almost exactly. I felt hysterical -- I wasn't sure if it was hope, or if it was twisted humor that our roles had switched.

"You want me to come out? Is that what this is about?"

"I didn't say that," Lakyn said, almost too quickly. His hands twisted into his hoodie, and I wanted to reach and uncurl them, but I didn't dare move. Like if I did, I would break something.

"You're hurting," he said. "I know you are. At school, at home. Part of you isn't ready to deal with this thing and me being around is just making that more and more obvious to both of us. We aren't making each other's lives easier anymore, Scott. We're making them harder."

He was crying. I watched the tears spill over his eyes in slow motion, like he hadn't given them permission to fall, they had just managed to escape. I reached for him them. I couldn't not.

"Don't." Lakyn said, leaning away and swiping at his eyes.

"Let me," I whispered.

"No. I don't want you to hold me."