Preached By My Neighbor (LGBT/18+)

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Wesley Bennett

There are words I want to say out loud, wanting the world to know what I'm feeling. But words that are going to escape my mouth, it will not be heard by anyone. I'm basically a nobody, a useless person. So why they should hear me out?

Last night I have checked on the internet the best apartment there is around Brooklyn, because I would like to live there. I found a couple of suits, apartments, and house and lots for sale. I found one walk up that has a great view of the East River, and that's fine with me. I have already contacted the owner, and I was told that I could move any time. According to him it has been a year since a person rented and used it. The owner also told me that I just need to clean it. The owner has sent me a couple of pictures via MMS, and I found it great. The walk up just needs re-painting and all and it's going to be good.

I have already packed up, fixed my clothes and put it in the bags. Tomorrow I'd leave, and I'd leave Dex to be with his family. I don't deserve him, and he doesn't deserve me. That's the way it is. That's the way it should be. That's the way it should have been in the first place. I should have never been in a picture with him in the first place, in his life. I can practically see myself having a moment with Dex in the future, but it just feels wrong in every way. I don't deserve happiness, but he does. I should never deprive him of that.

What he feels for me is something that can change anytime – I strongly believe that he's just in a phase. Anytime his thoughts could change, and that's something I don't want to happen while we're together. It's better to do this now than later. Because if that happens, I'm going to be broken again.

"Welcome back, old and sad Wesley Bennett," I say to myself, smiling sadly to myself before diving into the bed and covering myself with the duvet, making sure that sadness and self-loathe sleep beside me.

The morning sun comes, slipping through the windows and I yawn out loud. Tears have tried on the pillow. Last night I was able to sleep with tears running down my cheeks. I sigh, greeting myself a bad morning and head off downstairs. As I go down the stairs, my eyes immediately land on the closed front door, like I'm expecting someone to barge in. But that's not going to happen. No one's going to barge into this house, and before that happens, I'll make sure that I'm on my way to Brooklyn.

The clock reads 4:56 in the morning, and I still have a lot of things to do. By 7 o'clock, I should be escaping this house and travelling to Brooklyn. So I begin to do my morning routine – drink coffee, have a morning snack, pack-up a few things left such as the clocks and other stuff in my bedroom, and shower.

By 6:45 in the morning, I'm already prepared. I have rented a van, so I can have a lot of space to put my things, and I have one companion. I have contacted a person, whom I have met when I was partying out in a bar. Though at first it didn't cross my mind – I was considering Dex, but I realized that he should not know about my departure – but I thought about him. His name is Sam.

A van, as if on cue, honks outside and I freeze, momentarily stunned that Dex could have been woken up by the loud sound of the honking. With that in mind, I literally run outside and tell Sam that he doesn't need to honk the van. He just gives me a shrug, gets out of the van, and tells me that he'll help me out on picking my things out.

When I contacted Sam about this, he never really asked me why I would be living in Brooklyn instead of staying here. He just told me that he was supposed to go there to visit his uncle and aunty, but never did because of his tight schedules every single day, that's why he agreed on this.

When Sam gets out of the van, he immediately goes inside the house without asking for my permission, as if we've been best friends ever since, which we aren't. He whistles a song that I don't recognize, and picks up a few bags and delivers it into the van. I join him just to make everything faster – these are my things after all.

Once everything is inside the van, I climb into the passenger seat while Sam climbs into the driver's seat. He gives me a toothy grin, which I return. There's a heavy feeling inside me, and I feel like vomiting. I'm staring directly at the house of Dex and his wife. This is the time that I'm supposed to say good-bye, but words can't escape my lips. Even though I just want to whisper it. I want to see him one last time, one more time, before I go away and leave him. And I know it's too much to ask. I shouldn't be having that type of wish, because I know that I don't deserve it. My hands turn into a fist beside me – hard enough to make my hands turn white, as if it's loosing blood, and my breathing becomes ragged. The more I stare at the house, the more I want to bolt out and barge inside his house and wake him up with a kiss. And if that happens, that means I'm not going to leave. I avert my eyes, focusing it on Sam, who has been asking me something.

Sam rolls his eyes and my brows furrow. "Is it okay now? Is it okay if I drive now?"

With one last look to Dex's house, I nod and smile sadly at him. "It's okay. Thank you. We can go now."

While his hand on the steering wheel, his free arm stretches out, and he turns on the radio, and a song from Madonna comes blasting through the speakers. I'm not in the mood to listen to those happy and catchy songs, because I feel bad about leaving Dex. I also know that it's the right thing to do yet it feels so wrong. I feel like I'm committing a sin that I'll regret eventually.

The song keeps playing. I rest my elbow on the windowsill while staring at the blurry trees as we pass along them with a speed.

Two hours later my phone buzzes and I immediately pull it out. When I see his name popping up in the screen, I feel my heart drop. Every beat there's a pain included, and tears well up in my eyes as I open the message. He has sent me a few messages now, and from his messages I can feel that he's worried and angry and confused at me. Those messages read:

Where have you gone?

Why'd you leave me?

Please tell me where you've gone. Why did you go way?

Why did you leave me? What have I done wrong?

Please tell me, Wes. Please please please please.

My phone rings, his name popping up, exploding across the screen, and his profile pops-up; his toothy grin, his twinkling eyes, his luscious lips, I see him. My heart clenches more at the sight, and that's when I start to sob.

Sam gives me a worried look, his arm stretching out, and he begins to rub my back in a soothing manner. It doesn't do me good, but I'm glad that he's trying. He reaches for my phone and turns it off, and I let him. Because I couldn't do it. I almost answered, judging the way my thumb crawled its way up to the center of the screen, ready to swipe the green button with a telephone mark to the side to answer the phone call.

"Let's eat first," Sam announces and I barely nod in response.

"That would be good," I say, almost whispering the words out, but Sam hears as he gives me a nod.

"Want to talk about it?" he offers. I shake my head. Now is not the good time to talk about it.

My heart is practically being ripped out of my chest, and I feel the pain – it's so strong and overwhelming. It feels like I'm slowly dying. "Later." Sam sees a McDonald's drive-thru, and I nod in agreement. Fries and burgers and coke floats will be good for now. At least it will help me calm my stomach down, but not my heart. Sam drives through the McDonald's, and he orders something I didn't catch and I tell him my orders.

Fifteen minutes later we're now back on the road. I turn the radio loud, and Pink's voice comes through the speaker, singing Just Give Me A Reason.