Hey, Mister In Denial (BxB)

Chapter 12: Theory

Sometimes I don't get my friend. Derek is a type of guy who always vocalizes his thoughts yet he seems to be in a deep thinking and he's not sharing it to me. Silence looms over us, suffocating me with the tension lingering in the air. My hands get clammy, and I wipe them off across my pants, taking a deep breath as I wait for him to say something.

"He might be gay," Derek suddenly says, my head snapping into his direction. His eyes are still focused on the road, and his jaw is clenched. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard that it makes his hands turn white. His hands loosen the hard grip on the steering wheel and looks at me, stopping for a moment before training his eyes at me. I look at him in confusion, brows furrowed. "Rob, I mean. He might be gay."

I stare at him in shock, mouth agape, eyes wide. My best friend's words ring in my ears, words that glow in neon lights just inside my head and I shake my head, not really believing him, or his theory, or whatever shit he has to say about the possibility of Dale being gay. "That's not possible. He's straight as a ruler."

"Even rules break," he whines, scowling. There's a honk behind us and Derek glares over his shoulder, as if the driver behind us can see him glaring directly at him, or her. I'm not sure. Who parks in front of the road, by the way? Oh right, Derek. The car purrs to life, slightly trembling, then the car accelerates forward and I wait for Derek to continue what he was saying few minutes ago. The anticipation is killing me. There's this teeny tiny part inside me that keeps flickering, and I don't want to set my expectation, but my best friend's words trigger something inside me. "After you left the Starbucks, Dustin immediately followed you, as well as Dale." Raking my head for the memory of Dustin running after me, I already have the memory of Dale running after me, yelling me name and telling me to stop. "They ran after you, and when Dale didn't catch you, he cursed loudly, as if he couldn't believe that he hadn't reached you at all. He was really frustrated, and after that, he left us, even Lilith. We didn't know where Dustin went, but we assumed that he went home."

"He went into my house," I mutter, scratching my cheek and my best friend's eyebrows rise. "He met me up there, and we talked. He had an idea why I ran away. Scratch that, he knew why I ran away." I say to my friend, who is giving me a look, a look that I can't quite understand.

Derek doesn't speak for a while, and before we know it, he's already parking on our favorite parking lot. Once the car is parked, he climbs out the car. I hop down then he walks beside me, locking his car through the small device that is attached on the key. "Dustin is... interested on you, I can see that. And Dale is, I think, pretty pissed about it. I mean, I don't want to get your hopes up, but that's what I can see. That's what we can see."

"We? What do you mean by we?"

"We – as in me, Ashton, Kaila, and Gloss; I don't know about Lilith," he says, frowning upon saying Lilith's words. "I mean, she's our friend, and I'm looking out for her as well, but she seems to be living in a delusional world where she'd get together with the supposed-to-be gay Robert Dale Waites."

I frown at his words. Though I really want to believe (and God knows how I really want to believe my best friend's words) it, I can't seem to imagine that Dale is gay, and probably interested on me. There's no way that Robert Dale Waites is gay. I mean, he doesn't really have the gay vibes; that or that he's not really gay at all.

"Adieu," I say as I turn my heels to the right, not wanting to hear him anymore. I just don't want him to say anything to me about the endless possibilities of Dale being gay, which I know would make me believe that he's just really like me. And that would lead to another thing. I don't want to get my hopes up just because of that possibilities. It would be like chasing a damn peacock in an open road. Looking over my shoulder, I see Derek's retreating figure, turning right at the end of the corner and I sigh in relief.

The hallway is filled with students milling around, books pushed to their chest as they make their way. My eyes search for one person I'm dreading the most to see yet even his shadow I cannot see. I sigh in relief once more; this means that I can make my way without worrying on seeing him. Or it's just my imagination because as I begin to make my way towards the sea of people, he's there, standing, his bag is slinging on his shoulder as if he doesn't care about it. His hair is tousled, sticking up in every direction and his eyes have dark rims underneath and I feel bad suddenly for him. This is not the way I want to see him; he looks stressed, as if he didn't get any sleep at all. His eyes are tired, and his body says exhaustion. People are giving him looks, looks that tell us that they are curious as to what happened to him. Time seems to move slowly, and the world is slowly fading as our eyes meet across the sea of people that keep milling back and forth, passing us by, shoulders hitting.

We remain silent, letting people knock our shoulders as they walk past us. For a moment, neither of us move, not letting our eyes roam everywhere but just focus on each other's. I don't know if this is the part that I'm supposed to say something, something that could light up the mood, something that would tell that we're both okay and nothing just happened. But no words slip out of my mouth; no words fill up my chest; my head remains blank, clouded with the images of him running after me as what Derek has told me.

Just as the bell rings, the hallway becomes empty except for us, who hasn't said anything. Neither of us moves, and it's killing me. He should say something, anything, because his silence is not any better. His silence is killing me. I'm contemplating whether I should run just to get away from him and questions like: will he run after me? Will he stay on the very spot he's standing on after I ran away? Those questions begin to fill up my head, and answers are not being brought up.

Something knocks me, making me fall on the ground and when I look up, I see that Dale is already hoisting me up, his hand resting on my hips whereas his other hand grabs mine just to lift me up. Our eyes meet again, and something in his eyes flashes. Then something happens:

Run.

But this time, it's not me who ran away, it's him.