Leon, Leon (BoyxNB romance)

Chapter 23

I was lying on the sofa, head propped up by a couple of pillows and my own arm tucked behind, and the blanket thrown over my legs, with Cocoa on my feet, and Caramel begrudgingly taking the floor space. She had tried to squeeze in next to Cocoa, but after the horrible revelation that they had gotten too big to both fit on the sofa in that way, she made her way up to my stomach, and though for the first few minutes she was a fluffy hot water bottle, I soon started to feel her bones and claws digging in and couldn’t out up with it for very long. I gave a little sympathetic smile over to her, but she still had her head turned away from me. Aw, I love you, Caramel. Don’t be like this to me.

I tapped on my phone aimlessly, casually switching between Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, without absorbing any real information from any of them. The posts were just flashes of text and colour I couldn’t be bothered to read, though I didn’t feel like sleep, despite what I told Leon. It just hurt me to see him that, well... hurt, after a while.

I went through my messages app, tapping on each conversation to get rid of the annoying notification bubbles that flooded the screen. Most of them were just spam numbers, or the phone company reminding me that I could have so much great stuff if I only spent some money I don’t have, but eventually I stumbled across the one between me and Leon. It was empty, of course, and I don’t remember even going to make it – maybe the phone did it automatically, I never really cared enough to pay attention – but anyway, I started typing, for a couple of seconds. Maybe I’ll write him something nice to wake up to, I thought. That’d be cool right?

I started typing something along the lines of I hope you slept well... when I realised the conversation we literally just had. Oh yeah, phone = fucked. Oh well.

I backspaced the sentence or two I had written, but my finger hovered above the close button. But instead, I started to type again, and I’m not really sure why.

I sent a single, solitary Hey before anything else, just to test the waters. After I had tried sending it a couple of times and it refused to go, I was satisfied. I will not let anyone be able to read the utter bullshit I am probably about to write.

I had a lot of things going around in my head – I mean of course, right? It was a hell of a conversation, one I was not prepared for – and I was trying to put it all together. He is bit boy and bit girl, and he likes bit boy and bit girl. It was that simple, right? But in my head, it just... wasn’t. It was all a mess of facts and emotions and God knows what else.

I’m thinking about the conversation we just had, I wrote. And I’m trying to imagine you as a girl. Which is a stupid thing to say, because if you are a girl – or part girl – then I should just imagine you as you are right? But I mean with longer hair, and in a dress. I don’t know why, but the first dress I imagine you in is the one I bought for my old girlfriend for her fifteenth birthday – her name is Cass, by the way. The dress was blue, and it kind of went from navy at the top to turquoise at the bottom, with white borders around the edges. I don’t really know much about fashion design, apart from the basic colour and pattern stuff I’ve learnt in art class, so I wasn’t really sure, but I decided on it because I thought it looked like the sea. And she had sandy blonde hair, too – it’s dyed now though – so I thought it matched. Of course, you have dark hair, so it wouldn’t be the same. I guess it’d be, like... a coconut? I don’t know, that was a stupid idea. But still, I think you’d look pretty.

I sent the text – not that it mattered, it just gave me more space to write with – and began the next one.

I hope you don’t find that weird, if I ever tell you – that I find you pretty when I think of you like that, I mean. I guess I sort of... think you’re that, now. Pretty’s the wrong word, but... attractive, I suppose. Though I’ve always found that hard to judge – I think Cass is the only person I’ve genuinely found attractive, and that was only after we started talking a lot. I think I have to be close to someone before I think of anything like that – or feel it, really. It does freak me out a little about the thought of liking a boy, if this even what I’m feeling, but I think that’s more because everyone else finds it weird, you know? My family’s never really been those religious nut types – as in, people who are horrible and also happen to believe in some form of a God, not the other way around – so I guess I never had a reason to think much about it, positively or negatively. But when I look at you, Leon, I feel it, you know ? All the great cliche stuff. I think I’ve liked looking at you for a while – I’m surprised you haven’t caught me staring more than you have – and I love your skin and your hair. Please, don’t listen to him, ok? You’re not dirty, you’re beautiful and handsome and I really wish I had a photographic memory right about now.

I’m sorry... I shouldn’t be saying this. You like a guy, right? I was trying to figure it out as you were talking, to be honest. The only boy I really think is attractive, like really, is you, so I guess you must like whatever’s closest to that, which is probably one of the football guys, right? I mean, I guess being gay isn’t impossible if you play sports, but still, I can’t really picture any of them holding a rainbow flag. But then again, I don’t know. I really am a bad judge of character.

Sent.

I should probably sleep now... but I don’t want to. It’s probably the thought of tomorrow, to be honest – I don’t know how I survived so long without you, but going back alone kinda seems impossible now we’ve been together all night. And there’s also the Kayla situation I have to deal with – my sister says I should go talk and be friends with people I used to be with, but the thing is is that Cass is in that group and I think they all blame me a bit for why we broke up. I feel too scared to tell them what she actually did, Leon. I’m even too scared to tell my sister, and that makes me feel really bad because we normally tell each other everything, but the words just get stuck in my throat and I can never do it. People tell me to move on, if I ever talk about her much, now... but I can’t. I don’t know if I can... trust anyone that much, anymore, without being scared. It was probably nothing, in comparison to what you go through with your brother, or losing your dad, or dealing with your mother’s depression, so I feel weak when I cry about it. But... I still do, sometimes.

Sent.

I know you won’t read this, Leon – but I wish you a good night, anyway. I hope your bruises are better by tomorrow, and your lip doesn’t sting as much, and the painkillers last the night. And... I hope that guy comes to his senses and asks you out. You deserve it.

Goodnight, Leon. Sweet dreams.