𝚂𝚊𝚏𝚎

Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ７

He couldn't sleep.

He had a sore throat and didn't want to move.

He was comfortable in his bed.

But after a while of fighting,

he groaned.

He got up slowly.

Throwing his bedsheets to the side.

Stuart opened his door quietly.

It was late at night.

He didn't want to be noticed.

He walked down the stairs cautiously.

His feet made a light pitter noise.

He completely froze when he heard mumbling.

He crouched down at the end of the stairs.

He peeked into the kitchen.

Rachel and David were talking to each other.

Stuart held his breath.

He didn't want to get caught.

Especially if they think he was listening to them.

They started to talk again.

Stuart sat down against the wall.

He listened.

He waited for some type of que.

A que signaling that they were almost done with the conversation.

He heard his father talk.

"I don't like how often he is out of the house." He said blankly.

"Why? You were complaining that you wanted him out." Rachel responded.

"Okay, but, I don't ever see him anymore."

"He's actually having fun and doing things. Haven't you noticed?"

Rachels voice seemed strained and quiet while she said "He's talking to me again, David. Just like...when he was younger. Actual conversations."

Stuart looked down.

He never really thought his mom cared.

She was just as distant as he was with her.

"Well what does that have to do with him being gone all the time? You don't even know what he's doing."

"That's literally none of my business." She responded.

It was silent for a second.

Stuart got scared.

He bit his lip and peeked over.

Rachel was folding her arms.

"But what if he is doing something dangerous?" [aha just realized this could go multiple ways ;)]

"Eh, trial and error."

Stuart watched David shuffle.

"He could kill himself!"

Stuart sunk down.

"How?! What is he possibly going to do? He's happy, how many times do I need to repeat that to you?"

"Influence maybe?" He snapped right after.

"What influence?"

"Why don't even know this person that Stuart is hanging out with! He could be with a murderer!"

Stuart moved his head back against the wall.

He exhaled.

"And have you noticed some things? He wears that sweatshirt that was given to him all the time." He started.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Rachel whispered in between his words.

"That's girlfriend behavior..." David said through his teeth.

Stuart's eyes started to sting.

"So, you are calling your own son a girl?!" Rachel said quite loudly.

"N-no...just...he's- he's really going towards that direction."

"So what?" Rachel snapped.

There was silence again.

Stuart held his head.

Rachel laughed disappointedly.

"You call your own son a girl and assume his orientation. That there just tells me how fucking insecure you are. A perfect family. Piss off. They don't exist, and you aren't getting one. No wonder why he doesn't talk to you, because you judge him. I don't care who he is and I don't care who he gets married to or what job he gets. I want him to be happy and healthy, and if you don't care about that, you can leave. There is racism and world hunger and you are worried about your kid's sexuality. Pathetic, David."

Stuart peeked over again.

He had tears in his eyes.

His body felt hot due to being upset.

David had his head in his hands.

Rachel began to walk off.

Stuart scurried up back to his room.

He didn't close his door, but left it open just a small bit.

He climbed back into his bed.

His mom entered his room a few minutes later.

He tried to pretend he was asleep.

Rachel sighed.

"I know you aren't asleep. I heard you sniffle." She said softly.

He didn't respond.

She left his room.

He curled up and sobbed quietly for a while.

He never thought his dad was that bad.

But he remembered.

The disappointment on his face whenever Stuart was in the hospital for an injury.

The silence between the two when he drove him to a party he didn't want to go to.

The short conversations when he got out of the Institution.

His dad didn't want him.

Or...wanted a better version of him.

But couldn't get it.

So, he dealt with what he had.

With disgust.

Disappointment.

Stuart never thought of his father the same way again.

He just wanted to die in his sleep.

Just peaceful blackness.

[sorry for being slow, i'm having intense writers block]