Secrets; Maylor

7

Brian

"Still hard?"

"Yup."

Finally, our double period was over. I could talk to Mr Taylor! Freddie and I gathered our books and pencils quickly, desperate to get  lunch as fast as possible, "I'll meet you at our seat."

Freddie nodded and gave a small wave to Sir who stood in front of his desk. He leaned against it, his hands wrapped around both front corners. He gave me a happy nod and smile, lip syncing a 'hey' though no noise came out.

"You wanted to talk to me?" I sounded normal but inside I was dying. I can't believe I fucking got a boner like that. And it was because of him!

"Yeah, I did. About this morning...when you got your big..." He waved his hands around frantically, and I awkwardly smiled, "I was wondering if you needed any help?"

WHAT!?

"H-help?" I stuttered.

"Does that- uh- happen regularly." 

"N-"

"Because maybe you need some counselling. It could be a build up of stress. If you bottle up your emotions, they might come out in different ways. Maybe your's is..." He acted as if he knew what he meant but rushed every word he said. I didn't know what to think, "Look, I'll write down my number. Give me a call and maybe one day after school you can come to mine and we can talk." Maybe that boner wasn't such a bad thing.

"Thanks, Sir."

"When nobody's around-" He leaned in close to me and began to whisper, "-you can call me Roger."

"Why are you whispering? No ones here." I chuckled despite my worry of me making anything awkward.

He shrugged, writing on a random note pad, "It's sexier." He laughed. It's what now?

"That's queer." We laughed in union. He gave me a small slip of paper that had his number written on it.

Flashback*

I rested against the headboard of my bed, trying to read a book about technical Astronomy. I was reading my favourite chapter but, as my eyes read on, my mind drifted off. Needless to say I was more than worried. I was worried John was homophobic. Everybody was homophobic, and it was hard to find somebody that wasn't. I just really wanted nothing more than my best friend to give me a hug and tell me 'its okay.' But, apparently thats not the case- Thats not how reality works.

The ring of my telephone startled me which made me jump slightly. I was ready to pick it up until I remembered it was probably John. No, it was John. I sat up immediately at my realisation and, became to fidget with my fingers nervously. I bit my nails, viciously, staring at the phone as if it was a horror movie. The innocent, pastel, yellow phone now scared me. Finally, the ringing stopped. I let out a big breath I didn't know I was holding. I stared at my feet before hesitantly getting up and heading towards the kitchen.

"Sweetie, John called. He said it was important. Is everything okay?" He must of called the main telephone too. I let out a deep sigh and nodded. My mother gave me a funny look and continued putting platters of food on the dinner table.

"I'll talk to him soon. I have plenty of time too."

"How was school?" Mum asked as I rushed through the door, holding my tears back. I hated that memory more than fucking anything, "Are you okay, dear?"

"Yeah." My voice cracked, my vision getting more blurry by the second due to my build up of tears. I frantically slipped off my shoes as my bag kept falling off my shoulder. I let out an angry groan, aggressively throwing my bag on the floor and running upstairs, straight towards my room.

"Brian!" My mother called. I ignored her and shut my door behind me. I felt really bad for ignoring her calls, but I was just too upset. I slowly slid down the back of my door (like in the movies), and cried loudly. 

I missed him so much. Sometimes I've even thought of...suicide. But, I couldn't. I wouldn't. I've gone through so many depressive episodes. It's only as if I get out of my negative mind state for a certain amount of time that I don't even get to choose. Some memories hit harder than others on different days. They'd just randomly come to my head. It could be something simple, and it'd trigger the worst of things. It's even worse when I try to avoid it- it just keeps coming back, it wont stop.

"Brian?" My mothers voice became soft, echoing slightly through the door.

I sniffled, "Yeah?"

"Can I come in?" I scrambled to my feet, hesitantly opening the door. I gave her a very weak, forced smile. I knew my eyes were bloodshot. They felt hot.

"Oh, my darling." She sighed, pulling me into a hug, "Is it John?" I nodded as she gripped me tight. She swayed slightly which calmed me down. I didn't whimper or cry at all now she was here. I didn't want her to see me cry- boys don't cry. "Let it out." She whispered. I felt a small tear roll down my cheek. I shut my eyes tight. I wasn't going to cry in front of my own mother.

"I'm okay, Mum" My voice trembled.

"Come here." She whispered, sitting on my bed and patting the spot next to her. Hesitantly, I sat down, looking at my feet. "What happened?"

"One minute I was w-walking home from school a-and then I saw someone in a telephone box. A-and I thought about him." I was very open with my mother when it came to John. She loved him so much and so did I. She always comforted me- especially in times like these.

"How did that remind you of him?" Confusion grew in her tone.

"I didn't pick up the phone- if I picked it up- if I c-c-called him back.... T-the day he died..."