When I woke up my hand was holding a fistful of material and my back was spooned in warmth. I opened my eyes to see the three of us were sprawled across the couch-I had Dallas by the back of the shirt, Kyle had me around the waist, both were fast asleep.
I need to get home.
Tired still, I manage to get out from between the two and stand, the back of my hair sticking up like mad. I finger comb it briefly, and wander into the kitchn, in search of a pen and paper. On the back of a reciet I scrawl down a quick message,explaining how I had to get home to get a few things and that I’d be back.
Placing it on the coffee table in front of the two of them, I look down to admire their sleeping faces. Crouched at their level, they both look so delicate… like fallen angels. A trace of emotion stirs in the depth of my stomach, and I’m forced to look away.
I really hurt them both, didn’t I?
A little disheartened, I start on my way home, knowing I’ll only be more disheartened there. However, luck appears to be with me. Upon entering the apartment it’s abundantly clear noone’s home-complete and utter silence. Happy enough, I start to my room and begin to pack.
My bag is halfway packed when I hear the door open and close. Dad must be home. Ready to call out to him that I’m home the first half of a word is drawn from my mouth before I close it. He was talking to someone. A curious sense of foreboding settles itself over me and I starighten, padding silently closer to listen better.
“-run to me? We agreed he’d stay wherever he wanted” my moms voice.
“It’s not exactly like you made him welcomed” my dad snapped right back.
Were they…they were fucking talking about me.
“Oh shut up, like you’re father of the year”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I can sense the defensive tones in my fathers voice.
“Clearly we wouldn’t have been having this problem if you had of been an influence in his life. Instead all you did was shut yourself up in you room well I went out and worked for this family. Now that you’ve failed as a father it’s suddenly my responsibility?”
“Whose to say it wasn’t your lack of influence?”
Somehow I never thought my sexuality would make a huge difference-it’s not like I’d ever bring anyone home. My family and I just sort of ignored each other, so what was the big deal? I lean back against my wall, surprised at the hurt I feel. I thought I didn’t care anymore, but hearing them talk about me like I was nothing but an unresolved problem…
“So…what are we going to do?” that’s what sets me into motion. I venture back into my room and into my closet, reaching into one of my socks to gather the saved money there. I didn’t really have anywhere to go so I’d have to start my job again as soon as I could, but even then I had no real way of supporting myself.
Next I grab everything important. My ipod, pictures of Darcy, clothes I’d actually wear. It only took me about three minutes, because there wasn’t all that much I cared about. By the time I was finished my parents had looped back into blaming each other for my ‘problems’
Bag slung over my shoulder I enter the kitchen, clearing my throat loudly. I was hoping for an over the top reaction-maybe they’d gasp and show remorse in their eyes, that they’d never meant to hurt me. Instead my mom’s lips purse, and my dads eyebrows lower.