Hey, Mr. In Denial (LBGT)

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

When I wake up, as my eyes flutter open, I immediately feel the burden inside my chest. It is as if there's something heavy placed on my chest, and tears prickle my eyes. The rejection, the pain, it's still there. I just woke up and I should not cry. I know I should not cry as he doesn't deserve the tears; he's not worth it. But I can't help it. As my mind flashes the face he put on while he basically crushed my heart in his hands, the pain in my chest intensifies. This is something that I should not be remembering. This is something that should be forgotten.

"Morning gloominess," I mutter to myself, sighing as I hoist myself off from the bed, swinging my feet to the ground and I shudder, teeth chattering as I stand up and run at the bathroom to do my morning routine. The clock says 6:56 in the morning. I oh so badly want to skip the school, because I know that I'll meet him there. Garden of Luck is not really lucky at all, I think. In fact, I think I should curse that place. I think I need to suggest to Noah that that garden should be destroyed. "Crazy thought."

I strip the clothes off of me, stepping into the shower. The pain is there to awaken me up more, and it intensifies as my head keeps replaying the words of Dale. I don't deserve him, and he doesn't deserve me. Someone out there is waiting for me unknowingly, and we'll meet soon. I guess. I guess all I can do right now is wait, or I can use Tinder, Grindr, GUY, PlanetRomeo, or Jack'd just to find myself a date. I'm not really interested in s*x or whatsoever; I want love. Not the love that our parents are giving, but the love of someone who is not related to you but despite that, he's showering you a lot of love. That would be perfect. That would be better for me. I deserve that. Once done showering, I dry myself off, wear my uniform, brush my hair, and make sure that I look good. There are shadows under my eyes due to the lack of sleep. Last night I have been tossing around the bed, and I knew that based from the sheets that kept getting tangled. I woke up in the middle of the night, and tried to sleep, and waited another forty minutes before I could sleep again. I head downstairs, finding my mother and father in the kitchen doing their usual thing in the morning; father reading a newspaper while my mother cooks for us. I slip myself into the stool and tap my fingers across the table, lightly tapping the wood and my father moves his newspaper a bit so he can take a look at me.

"You look like a truck has run over you," my father announces, taking a sip of his hot chocolate but his eyes never leave me. If I ever such move my eyes away from his, he would know that there's something wrong. He would interrogate me, and you really don't want to know how he interrogates.

Despite how awful I look, I give my father a huge smile, so huge that it hurts my lips. "I'm fine. I didn't sleep really well last night. Must have consumed a lot of coffee." I lie. My mother whips her head to look at me. Everyone knows that I don't really drink coffee. "I tried. Coffee, I mean." I hastily add upon seeing my father's expression.

"Hmm," my father hums and goes back to reading his newspaper, nodding his head as he murmurs out loud the headline of the news. "One dead, three injured. Robbery. These people..."

My mother has laid out scrambled eggs, fried rice, hotdogs, and corns that are fried in butter. I suddenly remember the toasted bread Dustin and I have consumed yesterday morning. I didn't expect it to be quite good, and I'm craving for it right now. I pull out my cellphone in my pocket and immediately pull out Dustin's contact and text him: Please bring me buttered toasted bread. Craving. Tasted delicious by the way.

He responds after a few seconds: Okay. We need to talk.

My lips turn from a thin line to upside down, frowning at the message I've received from him. Shrugging, I put the phone back in my pocket and decide to meet him up later. There's a car honking outside, though I haven't really eaten much, I push the plate back and kiss my mother on my cheek and bid my father good-bye as I run outside, grabbing my backpack that is sitting on the couch. As usual, my Russian best friend shouts his good morning in French to my parents: Bonjour. Bonne journee. My mother smiles at that as my father gives my best friend a nod.

"You look like hell," Derek says as he grabs the clutch and pushes it upwards, then the car suddenly moves forward. I grab the seatbelt and wear it, eyeing my best friend. He keeps giving me glances, checking to see if I'm okay. Derek doesn't have any idea that Dale has talked to me and rejected me. If he knows, he would have come running in my house to comfort me. He would have slept in my house. That's how great Derek is. "Something happened?"

I really don't feel like talking about what happened yesterday, so I settle with: "Later."

Derek scowls at that, nodding his head. He senses that there's really something wrong, and beside my mother, he's the next person I can spill my pain with. Perhaps Derek would treat me ice creams just to lift my spirits up, or he'd do everything just to make me happy. Sometimes I hate him by doing those things. It just makes me feel awful. Derek cares for me and vice versa, and I'd be a big jerk if I let go of my best friend. We are best of friends forever.

Once we reach the school ground, Derek parks to the usual parking space just near the gym and we hop out of the car. We head inside the school and see the usual thing in school; students milling around, students shouting, students making fun of the others, student not giving a flying f**k in the world, students not giving a damn thing about how miserable the lives of others. Derek goes to his locker, and I head into mine. Immediately I see Dustin and a gasp escapes my lips. Students are giving him a look as well, confusion etched on their faces, mirroring mine.

"What the f**k happened to your face?" I ask him. His face looks much worse than mine. There's a huge round purple forming on his cheekbone, indicating that he has been punched really hard. He seems annoyed by my question and grabs my hand. His other hand shots forward, shutting my locker close and he leads me into one of the bathrooms of the school and locks the door behind us. "Mind telling me?"

His jaw clenches, and his hands turn into a fist on his side. He looks away, and I see how tensed he is. He fists his hands so hard that it's starting to turn white and I hold out his arm, making him look at me. Dustin releases a sigh of exasperation, bowing his head down as he looks at me through his long lashes. Upon seeing my worried expression, he groans and runs a hand across his hair, making it disheveled. "That fucker, I punched him. He punched me."

"Who?" I ask him, crossing my arms, waiting for his answer.

He purses his lips, biting his bottom lip and I ask the question again, making him grunt and he turns around. He kicks the wall and I flinch for him, as if feeling the pain. "Rob." My eyes widen, arms stretching out and my palms rest on his shoulders, turning him to face me fully. "Robert Dale Waites. I should have never let him talk to you. I should have never confronted him. I swear I'm going to kill him."

"Why did you confront him?" I ask, my voice rising.

"Because clearly he's interested on you just as you are interested on him," Dustin reasons, running again his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He grits his teeth, shutting his eyes as he rests his index finger and thumb on his forehead, massaging it. "But now I know that you don't deserve him. You don't. You deserve so much better. You deserve someone better."

"You should have never done that," I whisper, shutting my eyes. Suddenly there's a headache forming and I let out a groan, scratching my scalp and I turn around, my back facing him. "He hurt me because of you. He hurt me, rejected me, and I cried. It hurt. It still hurts."

Good thing the bathroom is empty except for us. His arms wrap around me from behind, and if it weren't for what I'm feeling as of the moment, I would consider this as sweet as a candy but all I feel is bitterness. But that doesn't stop him from tightening his arms around me. Dustin rests his chin on my shoulder, his breath fanning my neck that makes me shiver. "I know. I'm sorry. If there's a way, anything, that I can help you out with this, I will do it in a heartbeat. I promise you that. Just forgive me, and let's be best of friends again."

"Kiss me," is all I say, my eyes meeting his.

Dustin becomes silent, lips pursing as his eyes bore into mine. He sighs, brushing his hair and he starts to lean down, his lips inviting mine and my eyes flutter close. His lips are a few centimeters away from mine when the door bursts open, making us jump apart from each other and we both look at the culprit, who is no other than Robert Dale Waites who looks very furious; there's a smoke practically getting out of his nostrils and ears as his eyes go back and forth between me and Dustin, who looks annoyed.

"I thought you locked the room?"

"I did!"

As if on cue, Dale throws a punch on Dustin, his fist colliding in Dustin's cheek and I let out a gasp, arms shooting forward and my fingers curl up around Dale's bicep, pulling him back. Despite the feeling of my fingers around his bicep, I cry out in frustration as I tell them to stop making the bathroom a battlefield. But no one seems to listen to me. Instead they keep throwing punches at each other's face, trying to land a hard punch on every part of their body and I stand between them, my arms stretching on both sides; my palm is resting on Dale's chest while my other palm is resting on Dustin's chest.

They stare at each other with hatred. The purple mark on Dustin's face intensifies, much darker than the last time I've seen it, which is a few minutes ago. There are marks on Dale's face, too. I both give them a glare, crossing my arms across my chest as I stomp my foot on the ground like a child. "What the f**k is happening here?"

"This fucker," Dustin says while Dale cries out, "This bastard!"

"Will you guys calm the f**k down? Putain, je suis crevé." They both stare at me. I point my index finger at Dustin. "You, get out of the room," – then I point my index finger at Dale – "while you stay here. We're going to talk." Dustin looks like he's about to say something but I glare at him. He immediately shuts his mouth close and as he leaves the room, he gives Dale an icy glare and gets out of the room, shutting the door with a loud thud that makes me flinch. I glare at the door before training my eyes at Dale, who is looking at me nervously; he's currently biting his nails, a bad habit he has when he's nervous. "Now talk."