Joshua
The room is dark all save for the single little lamp lighting it up from my desk corner. Really the darkness is my fault. The sun has set sometime ago, and I'm too lazy to get up and turn on the overhead lights. Or, I suppose lazy isn't the right word for it. I glance down at the papers and notebooks sprawling over the rest of my desk, staring back at me. Maybe a better word would be busy.
But, no, not really, not even that.
My head rests against my palm, my elbow on the desk as my other hand drums pensive fingers against the wood. I have a good amount of work to do, and it's getting late. I should do something. But— ugh. I sit back in my chair and sigh, running a hand through my hair out of frustrated habit. I'm well aware of the homework I need to get done, and yet, my head is elsewhere, and I'm stuck with the continuous, nagging feeling that there's something more pressing, more important that I should be doing right now, but I don't know what.
I feel antsy and sluggish all at once, and the feeling doesn't sit well with me. I'm normally all over getting my homework done, pronto, but right now I just... I don't want to do it at all, but I want to do something. What is it though?
My mind wanders back to a couple days ago, when I managed to confront Ethan about what happened with... well, you know the story. I tell him about the date and suddenly it's a gay fest. He's telling me I'm bisexual, which is honestly? Bizarre to think about. I still can't really wrap my head around it— me, bisexual? I guess... I guess it's not that much of a shock, I did sort of have weird crushes on some professional soccer players when I was younger. Not that I thought of them as crushes at the time. (It's not weird, okay.)
Really, there was this one guy, he played for the Belgian Red Devils in the FIFA World Cup a couple years ago; I was maybe fourteen. I remember watching and really paying attention to the one player, eager to see every replay and every different shot of his. Maybe it was because he was a prominent striker. I was just really impressed with his performance, and I guess I thought it was admiration, the feelings I had towards him. And I guess it was admiration, but looking back on it now, I don't think I wanted to just be like him, I sort of wanted to be with him. But that's gay. And sort of weird. (Okay, yes, maybe a little weird.)
And— God, it's true, isn't it? I groan and bury my head in my arms on my desk. There seems to be no escaping it now that Ethan's opened the goddamned rainbow can of worms. I never even considered the fact that I could be anything but straight until now... Was that naïve of me? Ignorant? I don't know... It feels like it.
I looked up "bisexuality" the other day, so I fully get the whole liking-girls-and-boys thing now, there's no confusion there anymore. But it still almost doesn't feel, well, real. Like I'm in some sort of weird dream where I like guys and aliens profess their love for me and it's okay, and... I don't know, maybe it's just because it's all happening so suddenly, but I guess I just feel like I'm waiting for myself to wake up.
But no, that's not true. This is reality. I sit up in my seat again and slap my hand against my face. Stop thinking stupid things, I tell myself. If I let myself think it's a dream that'll easily be solved, I'll never try to sort out or deal with these actual problems that are very much real issues. Like Seth for example. I still have 0% of a clue as to what to do about him.
He's in love with me? Great. No, not really. Not great. It doesn't matter that he's a guy, have I mentioned that he's alien? 'Cause I think I have, but I'm not sure.
Just kidding, I haven't mentioned it before; 'cause literally no one knows what he is except me. And it's not a good feeling. I don't even know if anyone else knows he exists except for me, and Ethan now by extension. But it's not like that's very helpful to me, because he still doesn't know about the extraterrestrial bit. That's kind of important. He thinks Seth is just some guy from my past, come back to ask me out all sweetly and rom-com like, and that is certainly not the case. That's not going to stop Ethan from continuously trying to hook us up though.
I would know, because as soon as it was made apparent that I'm quite possibly not straight, all he's been doing is grinning and smiling dumbly. I will give him credit, he hasn't told anyone why he's happier than usual, which I can appreciate, but it still doesn't keep his excitement from being annoying. And not annoying in the normal Ethan way either.
His excitement over the whole bisexual thing makes my other issue with Seth seem so much worse in comparison. I feel like such a downer for telling him no, over and over again, no, I'm not going to talk to Seth. I'm almost unable to describe how it makes me feel. It's almost as if telling him only part of the truth is somehow much worse than not telling him anything at all. Because he talks about Seth now. Almost constantly when we're alone, it's all he wants to know about now. He just wants to learn more and more. What were we like as kids? How did we know each other? Why did I move? Why is he back? What's he like?
Hearing him ask is like letting someone rub sandpaper on a scab repeatedly, and I have to just let him do it. No matter how many times I tell him please, not right now, he'll always concede, and then ask again later. There's no stopping it. His curiosity is overwhelming his concern. And with each question and with each reminder, my chest feels tighter and tighter, and that scab feels like it's going to be rubbed off any moment now. Like the wound will soon be exposed, and I'll be unable to stop the bleeding once it starts.
Part of me is relieved to talk about at least a little bit of this giant mess of my life, but then, there's so much of it that I can't tell him about, that I can hardly get around it. If I were to answer any of those questions, it'd either be a lie or the complete, utter truth. And I can't do either of them. So I can't answer him. And it's killing me, it's killing him. I can see it, how much he wants to know. It's taking him everything he has to just keep the questions to himself when Maggie or anyone else is in the room, so it's no wonder that he can hardly keep it to himself when it's just him and me.
I'd almost feel bad for him if I didn't feel worse for myself.
I just want some sort of resolution, something, anything. I want to be able to talk to Ethan about it, I want to be able to talk to Seth without feeling guilty and angry and scared.
But I can't do that. I really, really can't. All the possible catastrophes just swarm in my mind. First and foremost, they all begin and end with that monster. The one that is and isn't Seth all at the same time. The one that murdered my...
I haven't seen that thing since. But I saw that look in Seth's eyes when I chased him down that day. It's still there. It's still very much there, I know it. And what's more important, he knows it. I have no idea what kind of control he has over that thing, what part of himself it is. Is that what he really looks like? That skeletal... monstrosity? My memory of it has been warped by time and nightmares, but I'm still precisely aware of what the thing looks like. The bones, the claws, the tail... the thing is only vaguely human, and I can only wonder how painful it must be for Seth, Sundo to... No, I'm not going to try to think like that. I can't afford to.
Any moment Seth could get too scared by something, too angry maybe, and that thing could come back. His real, sliming, grotesque self. What if I do try to make amends with Seth? He seems so human... but then, I could be with him one day, and then the next I don't come home. No one sees me again. If that monster were to devour me as it easily could, no one would know what happened to me. They'd be looking for me, and they'd never find me. Dad would never know...
That antsy feeling is coming back to me now, but this time it's worse, different. I know this feeling, but I can't stop it. The tightness in my throat, the clawing pain of my heart racing in my ribcage. I know it's irrational, the monster isn't here, I haven't seen it in forever, I don't even know if Seth has no control over it, but... I see those rigid, sharp jaws in my mind, those teeth like white knives to rip into my face. I feel those talons digging into my arms and the suffocating feeling of fear and panic building up in my lungs.
I see nothing but the image, the terrifying thought that the creature could very well kill me. I don't feel my knuckles, white, holding onto the edge of desk so hard that my fingertips are numb. My breathing comes out sharp and I can feel my brain shutting off. I struggle to fight it, the panic attack, the image, the monster. I don't know what. But I can feel it, overwhelming, nauseating...
The door to my room opens. I cry out and jerk up, swiping half my books off of my desk in the process of scrambling to stand, to see who it is.
It isn't Seth.
It takes time for my brain to register that, to calm down. My eyes dart around before I realise that it's my dad. Nothing dangerous. I'm fine. I grip the front of my shirt as I try to calm my breathing desperately. In vain I hope he doesn't notice the state he's found me in. I can see it on his face that he's noticed, however; he's seen the fear, the cold sweat, the paleness. It's too late, I can see it all in the concern that he looks me over with.
"Joshua...? Are you.. are you alright?"
His hand is still on the doorknob, and he's half in the room, half out. Like he doesn't know whether it's okay to come any closer.
"I'm.." I swallow thickly, "I'm f-fine. I'm fine." I breathe, sounding as convincing as an injured kid crying.
I don't have to tell you that he doesn't seem to believe that for a second. He looks me over for a moment, which I take to compose myself, and then he lets a long sigh escape his lungs. He looks away as he runs a hand helplessly through his hair; he doesn't seem to know what to say.
It's much darker than mine, his hair is, and it's started growing in a salt-and-pepper grey that makes him look more weary than he already looked before. My dad is your typical overworked office employee, who's allowed too little sleep and too little social interaction outside the office. I'm sure the job he had at Windsor was much better than the one he has here, but I'm also sure that he couldn't have carried on in that job the way he'd been going. And by that, I mean he'd been losing interest, falling into a depression. Everything was different without my mother, his wife. He needed something new, something to help him get better and reconcile. We both did.
Most people tell (told) me I look more like my mother than my father, and it's not hard to see why. I've grown up to have her same dark brown hair, tawny skin, and dark eyes. My father on the other hand is white, with black hair, and grey-blue eyes that I'm sure my mother loved. My mother was an American citizen, but she's Panamanian first. I suppose by extension, I sort of am too. Dad met her when he was in college, on a business internship trip to the country. It was an instant connection, as much as I still fail to understand how, and they continued to email each other long after he had to go back home. It wasn't even a flirty thing at first, from my understanding they were good friends before they were lovers. Eventually she transferred to a college in the US to meet up with him again.
My dad loved her so much, that when they got married he was willing to ditch his hella-white "maiden name", Malone, to take up her last name. Gonzalo.
And now she's gone. Dad and I are alone, and I can't tell how well we're doing without her.
"Joshua..." He says to me now, "Please... You're not fine. What ever is bothering you, please, talk to me. What is it? Are you okay? First the car incident, now this... I'm worried about you. Tell me what's wrong."
I feel my heart wrench in my chest; I want to tell him. I really do. But what can I say?
"Dad, I'm fine, really. Nothing..." I want to say nothing's bothering me, but that would be a lie. "Nothing's wrong right now." Everything is wrong right now. I don't like lying.
"Joshua." He says, sounding exasperated, concerned. He takes a step into my room, but only a step. He stops and leans back against the doorframe like this, as if it takes all of his effort to remain here, talking with me. "Don't lie, really, I can hear it. You're awful at it."
"I'm not—"
"You are."
I look at him indignantly, but it's no use. He's right, and what's more, we both know it.
"If you don't want to tell me about what's bothering you now... Fine." I can see he wants to know. He walked in on what was basically a panic attack, of course he does. He's worried. But he doesn't press the matter, and I've never been more grateful to him for letting something go than I am for this now.
"At least tell me this," He says before I can voice my relief. "Are you avoiding that Huggins kid? Isn't he your best friend?"
Huggins. He means Ethan. We've been friends practically since we both simultaneously moved here, of course Dad notices if something's amiss between us. Damn.
"I uh... No, not really... Not intentionally anyway."
That's mostly the truth, though it doesn't really sound like it. Heck, I wouldn't even trust myself at this point. Who am I kidding. Thinking of why I may or may not be slightly avoiding Ethan, I wonder if it's actually something I might be able to tell Dad. Do I want to tell him about the... sexuality realisation with Ethan? That— that sounds weird and awkward just thinking about it. Better not phrase it like that at all, that's shudder-worthy.
Not to mention, telling him about it feels all so permanent. As in, right now it's just an idea, but if I tell him, it'll be set in stone. No take backs.
To my response, Dad just sighs. "Don't you two have a game this Friday? This isn't going to affect more than just you two is it..?"
"We both have games, plural, this Friday. I've told you, Ethan doesn't play soccer, Dad. He plays baseball. But yes, we both have games, and no, it's not going to affect more than just us." At least I hope not.
But... I have to tell someone about the bisexuality eventually right..? Then maybe the question isn't why shouldn't I, but rather, why should I. I'd like to think Dad would be supportive, but, then again... we've never even talked about it before.
I don't have to tell him about Seth. Just the boys and girls bit. Yeah.
"If you boys are fighting, it's best to just—"
"Dad?" I say suddenly, before I can stop myself.
He stops mid sentence and looks at me, blinking. It sounded like a squeak, my question. All the fear suddenly rushes onto me. Oh, God. I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell him? What if he thinks it's dumb? Or that I'm wrong? Or that I made it up? Ethan said that might happen, but I'd dismissed it at the time... but God, this is a mistake, I've made a mistake, I can't just tell him now!
"Joshua?" He asks after too long of my silence, "What is it?"
"I..." My throat feels like I'm trying to swallow a sandstorm. I'm going to do it. I'm going to tell him. I'm going to— No.
But it's coming out before I can stop myself.
"Is it okay if I like boys?" I ask abruptly. My voice is too high, my words too quick, my palms too sweaty. The question hangs in the air like a tangible thing between us.
At first, Dad can only stare. He blinks some more, and then even more. He looks almost startled by the question, and quite speechless.
"Uh..." He starts, and the sound jolts me out of my own terrified silence.
"Boys and girls." I add quickly, correcting myself. "Is it okay if... boys and girls... I..."
Slowly I find myself losing the ability to speak. I didn't think I'd have this much apprehension waiting for an answer, but here I am, feeling as if I might be sick. I shouldn't have asked, I shouldn't have asked... This was dumb, this was so dumb, I didn't even know myself fully, but here I am asking my dad and it's a disaster and—
"I... guess?" He finally answers. I'm so stunned, I almost fall into my seat behind me.
He seems to struggle with his own words as he tries to continue, and he now seems unable to look me in the eye as he speaks. "I mean, I guess I have little right to judge you on the matter. It's your decision who you find yourself attracted to, right..? And... I guess I mean, yeah, we'll have problems if you bring home some sleaze or something, but we'd have that same problem if you brought the same kind of girl home, so it's no different really, so I guess—"
"Dad." I interrupt his ramble. Overwhelmingly, I can feel the tears wetting my eyes and a smile on my face that I can't control. The tension from before eases miraculously, and it all feels so real now. But in a good way. In a great way that I never thought could be possible.
I feel validated, real, like it isn't a dream anymore. My dad accepts it, and suddenly I don't care what anyone else thinks. I'll tell Maggie, maybe even some of my teammates if they ask. It's crazy, but I'm so happy right now, I could do just that. I'm bi. I'm bisexual, and it's okay!
Dad looks at me with that surprised-confused blink again. "What?" He asks, and then for a second he looks worried, as if his response might've been the wrong one. But it wasn't. No, it certainly wasn't.
In the next moment, I find myself crossing the space between us. In no time at all, I'm hugging him. It's a weird thing, hugging my dad. I hardly ever do it anymore. Most teens don't. But we should. We most definitely should.
"Thank you," I whisper hoarsely to him, squeezing tight.
He wheezes his surprise in something I don't catch. He may not understand just now what this means for me, but he accepts the hug, and he squeezes me back reassuringly. When I finally pull back, I wipe my eyes with the palm of my hand and take a respectful step back, clearing my throat in a manly manner. Dad just looks at me, smiling with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. Then something seems to occur to him, and his eyebrows rise up high with an "oh!" sound.
"Do you like Ethan!? Is that what all of this is about? Joshua..! You should have told me sooner, oh lordy, it's fine—"
"Oh my God, what?! No— No, Dad, no way!" I exclaim immediately, horrified. How could he even think that? And then I think about it myself.
And suddenly I'm laughing, thinking about my dad thinking I liked Ethan. Thinking about liking Ethan. It's crazy. I just start laughing, and then I can't stop. It all seems so funny now, and it's not long before Dad starts chortling too. Crazy. That's what all of this is. It's crazy, but it turned out perfectly, and I'm so glad. I couldn't ask for a better dad.
Behind me, my homework waits to be finished for the night, part of it on the floor, part of it on my desk. That's fine. It can wait.
Behind me, my phone buzzes with a notification beneath one of my textbooks. I don't hear it.
That's fine. It'll wait.
.
.
.
A/N: Hey guys! Glad to be able to bring you this chapter before the weekend comes to a close! I sort of enjoyed this chapter, because it reminded me of coming out to my own dad. Thankfully he was pretty cool with it (:
For those of you who may have guessed what Seth's sexuality might be in the previous chapter, if you guessed demisexual, then you'd be correct! Awesome job!
Again, apologies if updates are sort of slower than before now, school has started up for me, and I'm juggling homework on top of playing volleyball this year, which is quite fun actually!
So, if you liked this chapter or had any thoughts on it, please don't forget to leave a vote or a comment! I love those! Next chapter will have some more of our favorite characters :) Ready for the fated soccer match between Windsor and Grand Junction?