Make Me Beg [BL]

Chapter 33

I wondered where to start and I thought about what to keep to myself. She probably didn't want to hear about how much I loved their smiles, the soft tone Rylan always spoke in and Kyler's lower one, she wouldn't want to know how perfectly their hands fit in mine, and the way my stomach warmed when they kissed me.

She wanted to know all the ugly that sent me here.

But to tell her all the ugly, I needed to tell her all the pretty.

So I did. I let her know about everything I didn't want to keep to myself. She got all the ugly, and I saved some of my most precious moments to myself, because those are mine. I wouldn't let her have them.

Penelope got to hear about the build up to our relationship, a time when I felt happier, the confusion I felt when I realized I liked two men, the guilt that came with lying to myself and to them.

And then we were in a relationship. So thus came all the insecurities and happiness tangled together. Hand in hand, one not being able to live without each other. I told her about all my firsts, not in detail, but enough for her to know it impacted me heavily.

They were all of my firsts, how could they not?

She knew Rylan's favorite smoothie flavor and Kyler's average mile time. Seven minutes if he's jogging, even faster if he runs. "Now that I'm," I waved my hand around, "here, I've been thinking a lot. Mom has my phone so I have a lot of time to think."

I pulled a thread from my jeans. "I feel like I was unfair to them. It was always me, me, me. We were all in a relationship but I.. made myself the center." I hoped she understood. I didn't want to explain how selfishly I acted before. "It felt like me and Kyler, or me and Rylan. Or me, Rylan, and Kyler."

"Never just Kyler and Rylan." I admitted. "I feel like it's partly my fault. They were always so.. focused on me that they never got to build their own relationship."

It was hard to admit and I felt guilty about it every day. They started to, they went on a date and started to have their own relationship away from me, but then I ruined it.

I don't know if they're talking. We're not talking so I can't know if they are.

"I would change that when I go back." I uttered quietly. "If we're still dating."

_

Mom stood in my doorway on the fifth day of me being home. My family home, not my home. "You're sculpting again?" Her voice held hope that usually would've hurt me. It still stung a little, because this should've seemed normal for me.

But Mom didn't think I was normal anymore.

Maybe when I go home she'll change her mind.

"I found some old clay." My desk was even messier now, caked with old clay that had too much water. I overdid it. "I haven't touched any in a while."

She came in, leaving the door open, and sat beside me. Dad made this bench. He was sick of me getting paint all over my furniture so he made me a bench I could wipe anything off of. I remember the way his lips thinned when it was stained the next morning.

While I dipped my hand in the small bucket of clay, she watched me as though I hung all the stars in the sky individually. But maybe that's just a mother's love. "Last time I sculpted, it was with them."

Them, went unspoken. I didn't need to say their names for her to understand. "I still have their sculptures in my room, at home." The clay was too sticky and needed to dry some, but I was impatient so I forced it to mold under my fingers. "They're not worse than Tracy is, but they're not good at sculpting either."