Someone who loves me (Lams)

Klutzy mess

I slap a sticker on an Iced coffee , and call out, "order for Alex!" I watch from behind the counter as the most wonderful person I have ever seen comes to grab his coffee, and in that moment I find myself completely and utterly helpless.

"Ahem." I look up to a man staring at me, his coffee in my hand. He nods at his drink, raising his eyebrows.

 "Oh, your coffee, of course!" 

I reach for a straw, knocking over the container. Shit. I hear Peggy snickering behind me. Hastily I grab a straw from the counter and plop it in his drink. With the wrapper still on. God, I must look like a fool. I glance up, his eyes silently judging me. Those deep, intelligent eyes. And is that... a hint of a smile? He grabs his drink and walks back to his table, where he begins typing furiously at a computer. Wondering what he's writing, I stoop down, grabbing straws from the floor and putting them back in the jar. They're wrapped, nobody needs to know.

"Hey, John" 

I turn around, Peggy is leaning against the counter with a smirk on her face.

"Smooth moves, lover boy"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about." I stammer out, trying to keep my voice steady. 

"Aw, John-John, it's obvious you like that guy"

"No, I don't, and you have no proof." I can't admit it, won't admit it. Besides, who would ever want to be with me, a stupid, klutzy faggot. 

Peggy rolls her eyes and goes to take another order, but I don't miss the glance she shares with Eliza.

I spend my day as I have spent countless others, making coffee and staying out of the way. I hide my emotions deep down where they will never escape, attempting not to be a burden. I watch Alex drink his coffee, still writing frantically. If only I were cuter, would he notice me then? Although, after all my screw ups this morning, I'm sure he took notice of me. Noticed what a blundering mess I was and moved on. In his mind, I'm the blubbering cashier who can't function, the one he'll laugh about with his friends. I bet he has a lot of friends, probably a girlfriend. Even if I were as cute as him, it likely wouldn't matter, he's got to be straight. They always are.

That night as I fall asleep I am haunted once again by this man, who has consumed my every thought. His dazzling eyes, and his lips... they look so soft, so kissable, and I wish I could test my theory. If only I could learn to keep my cool, but instead I threw away my shot. 

Carefully, not wanting to wake my roommates I creep to the bathroom. There is a soft snoring as I pass the room shared by Herc and Laff. I close the door behind me and look in the mirror. I make a list in my mind of the things I would change if I could have a do over. 

1. My freckles, they look so childish, and I am covered in them. Most people get them by their nose, but my face, my arms, everywhere, is covered by these stupid little dots.

2. My hair, a tangly mess. I don't know how Laff keeps his tame, pulled back and in place, but I find myself with ends that won't stay tucked in, getting in my face and looking disastrous.

3. The bruises. I spend so much time at my fathers house, and have become his favourite punching bag. These past few weeks with my friends have been a dream, but I know tomorrow I will go back to the nightmare that is my family.

I nitpick every inch of my body, and when I am crying and feel I can't go on any longer, I take off my pants and pull out my razor. Straight, even lines cover my thighs, out of view of prying eyes. I fall into a rhythm, slicing, mutilating my body. Where there are no bruises from my dad, there are scars from myself. I can't remember how long it's been since my skin was smooth and flawless. I make the mistake of glancing up, and am met once again with my ugly face, now red and blotchy from crying. 

"Mon ami, I really need to pee!" There is a knock at the door and I burst into action, putting  on my pants and washing my face. 

"One second!" I call out, controlling my voice. I compose myself as best I can, taking my razor with me. I open the door, and Lafayette runs into the bathroom. If he had looked at me, had seen my face, I wonder if he would have questioned me. Would he have stopped me if he had seen what I carried in my hands. But I've been at it for so long, I have excuses and I know what to avoid. I don't normally cry, I thought I had run out of tears long ago. The void consumes my emotions, leaving me numb. But the embarrassment of today has triggered a memory I wish to forget, back when I thought my father was a good man.

I crawl back into bed, it's going to be a restless night.