Maylor Oneshots

Soft To Be Strong

1986

His heart thumped in his chest as he trudged to the house. Each step down the what seemed to be the never ending pathway, a heavy airy weight pushed down on his shoulders and ached his neck. It pushed the breath out of his lungs one shallow breath after another. His stomach twisted and churned and his palms that were shoved in his pockets felt clammy. The blood has been drained instantly from his head down to his toes.

Unease overcame his body and caused him to shiver as if he was caught in the midst of a bitter snow storm. Anxious thoughts swarmed around in his mind like the tiny flakes of frozen water being pushed around by crisp harsh wind. However, it was the near end of summer. Twilight was creeping among the horizon, it was a quiet night in the neighborhood. Insecurity being the main cause of his downfall in happiness led up to this point. It led to the stop he took right in front of that all too familiar doorway.

His weak hand slid out of the tight pocket of his jeans and curled into a fist. He brought his hand up steadily and let his mind control the actions from there. Two knocks so clear in the silence he has been in for so long whisked him out of his daze. His throat clenched, saliva built up. His dry hazel eyes kept their blank stare on the brown doormat below his feet. His hand was back snugly in his pocket, yet he didn't remember putting it back there.

Footsteps could be heard dully behind the white door. And for a moment, the man worried he might have rudely awoken the other behind the door until he remembered the soft yellow glow of the outdoor lights and the same from the inside had still been going when he approached the door. The creak of the wooden door swinging open stung the man's ears like a bee. He noticed two sock covered feet shuffle into his view of the ground.

"Brian?"

The man looked up. His blank stare was met with a pair of soft blue eyes hinted with concern from the slightly furrowed brows above them.

"What are you doing here at this time?" The owner of the blue eyes asked.

Brian cleared his throat. He realized he seemed quite odd by the way he was acting. "I need to talk to you."

The man in the doorway with the soft blond hair pulled both sides of fabric from his gray sweater together and hid the plain white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. "Talk to me about what?"

"About us, Rog."

Those words caused the color to drain from the blond's face, making him look a pasty yellow.
"Are you breaking up with me?" He whispered in a weak voice that cracked the slightest with sudden emotion. His bottom lip trembled during the silence received from the other man. He felt his eyes nearly well up with tears.

"N-no! No," Brian uttered quickly, his hands flying out of his pockets and shaking side to side frantically in front of the other man. "Not at all! I just feel as if we need to talk. Communication is key in relationships, y'know."

Roger nodded, beginning to understand. He bit down on his bottom lip and his eyes darted around from the floor to the road behind Brian.    He couldn't help but feel apprehensive in the moment.

"Uh... would you like to come in? I could make you a cuppa tea if you'd like?" Roger asked, cocking his head to the side as he jammed his thumb in the direction behind him.

Brian shook his head of mighty curls, holding a flat palm in front of him. "No thank you, I'm alright. I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk?"