I drop the backpack onto the hardwood floor in a loud thump, falling face-forward onto my bed. I landed with a thump, the soft cushion of the mattress broke my fall enough to not make me whine out in discomfort.
I groan, feeling the need to take the nearest thing to me and wrap it around my head to suffocate me in shame; unluckily for me, it was only a pillow and all I could do was put it to the back of my head, gripping on the ends as I shove myself deeper into the mattress as I attempt to drown out yesterday's event.
What the hell was I thinking?
Accusing Julian like that? Taking it out in front of all his friends? I'm a horrible person.
Graham gave me a whole-ass lecture yesterday, telling me that I should've waited a minute to think everything through before going out with my plan. I agreed with him, but it didn't help that it stings that he was right. He said that my emotions made me act on impulse, and that my outburst yesterday was me not being able to tame myself. I couldn't. But I should've.
When something happens, I go. I don't wait. When I need something to happen, I go. I never wait. Just a small act triggers something in me to impulsively use my emotions against me. I should've waited. Counted to ten like the counsellor said.
What even caused the whole situation to be worst, is that with every class Julian and I got, he made sure to find the furthest desk away from me. I wasn't surprised by it — I would've done the same if I was in his position — but that doesn't mean it didn't add salt to the wound. This was the first time Julian was mad at me, and even with my ability to own up to my mistakes — usually within a couple of hours of doing wrong — I couldn't find myself to apologises.
I'm not a stubborn person; I'll admit when I'm wrong but whatever happened in this turn of events caused me not be able to even stutter the words sorry.
I feel ashamed, I feel horrible. I'm the worst person in the entire world right now, and I couldn't help but feel that way.
I sigh, dragging the pillow to the side as I needed to pull myself up to have a gap of air. I closed my eyes, staring at the empty room and frown, "what the hell am I going to do next?" I whisper to myself, dragging my leg off the edge of the bed and into my chest.
My eyes opened once again, and I found the bookshelf in front of me staring back at me. I scanned the dysfunctional shelf, and found myself looking at the yearbook section of kindergarten to junior year. Deciding to take a small break of misery, I headed over to grab the junior year off the shelf, as the cool front cover falls into my hands.
I situated myself back into the position on my bed, and dropped the book onto the mattress, flipping to the first page.
At the front cover, against the hardwood back, were signatures and farewell greetings of junior year.
Some of the people who signed my yearbook, I had no clue to who they were; and in some of their point of views, it was the same coming from them as well. It was just due to the fact that we were passing yearbooks all around at the end of the year in lunch period and whoever caught on, and signed, signed.
I found myself lingering on names and small writings. I thought if looking back at these could somehow brought a better gut feeling in my stomach, but all I could feel was the same pit of misery I'm feeling for myself.
"Francena!" Kenji's voice dragged me away from my thoughts and I found myself looking at my brother.
"What the hell?" I said, shocked from his tone and appearance in my room. My eyes travelled up and down on my brother, finding him in neat black attire: Adidas track jacket, Adidas pants and white socks.
"What are you doing?" He backs himself up, taking a seat at my desk.
"Nothing," I slammed the yearbook close and pushed it back to the further corner of the bed.
"Sure," my brother said flatly, "as if I didn't hear your moans of despair from the other side of the room. 'Nothing.'" He finished with air quotations, causing me to roll my eyes.
"You're so annoying,"
"And you still didn't answer my questions — plus, you're dodging the question so it must mean I'm right. To some extent."
I eyed my brother carefully, "since when did you read body language and signals?"
"Ever since it was the easiest to get something out of you," he leans against the chair, slightly lifting himself off the ground and into the air, "plus, I took an online quiz about it and it's pretty fun."
"And to think, I thought the only thing you do is play video games and go on your phone."
"I also watch porn, but that's another story."
"KENJI!"
"I'm kidding, Jesus, take the joke!" He said with widen eyes, easing out his hand for me to cautiously understand. I left it be, but not without giving him another dirty look.
I turn back to spare another glance at the yearbook, "what are you doing?" My brother asks once more.
"Just looking through the yearbook," I replied easily.
"You know that's not what I meant," and I turn back to him and glare a sharp look.
"What the fuck do you want then? If not for the clear answer I just give you; the hell you want from me?" I glare, seeing my brother's expression unfazed but my sudden anger outburst, I sigh. Leave your anger out the door. "Sorry, I got a bad day."
He doesn't say anything and stands up, walking over to my Google Home; he trails his finger on top of the speaker, "you know you play your music really loud? Like I can hear you though my headphones while playing video games?"
"Do you want me to turn it down or something?"
"No! It's not that, I don't mind — I mean, I do, but I don't care because it's my way of finding out if you're okay for the day or not. When you're sad, you don't listen to music; when you're happy, you play it. For the pass two days, you haven't played any music. And it's starting to become creepy. Scary. I don't know if you're okay, and it's scaring me. You've never gone this long without a song in the air."
I didn't say anything; left speechless. I look away from meeting his eyes, turning to a blank wall, and trying to hide my face slightly from view. "I-I'm fine," I stuttered, knowing very well I'm a terrible liar. I was always open and honest.
"What happened?" My brother's voice continue to boost the same amount of concern.
"I–It's nothing," I replied, exhaling deeply.
"Come on, Rei. We've been living under the same roof long enough for me to know that's not true,"
I smile, nodding slightly. He was right; fourteen years under the same roof and you know more about the person you're living with them then you know about yourself. "So," my brother stirs once more, "what happen?"
And I spoke. I told him everything that happened yesterday and some included background with it. I even decided to pull out the crumpled up notecard for him to see, deepening the explanation behind my moods of late.
"Damn," was the first thing he said after listening to my story, "if high school is going to be this difficult, I'm debating dropping out."
I punch his shoulder, "don't do that, idiot. If you don't start problems in the beginning, it won't come back to haunt you. Ten times worst."
I take back the notecard, about to throw it over to my desk when my brother takes the card from my hand, "wait, stop, let me see that again."
He begins to read over the content, the same words that spill out my secret to the entire school. "Hmm," he said, "that's gay."
"Kenji!" I punch him shoulder again, a little harder. He stops, turning to me as he lets out a cry of pain and begin rubbing his shoulder.
"What the hell?!"
"I thought I told you that nothing is gay unless you're—"
"You're gay yourself, I know you imbecile." My brother finished my sentence for me; he hands back the note to me, "I'm just saying, I've been hanging out with people who knew guys were gay before they knew they're gay and yeah, not all the time were they right and in the right mindset, but that doesn't mean everything was wrong. I picked up on that, and from that right there," my brother points to the notecard, "it definitely would score a 10/10 from the guys."
"So..." I find the my eyes falling back on the paper, "it's a guy then?"
"Definitely. Unless it's a lesbian, but I doubt it would be with the handwriting. It's way too ugly to be a girl's."
"But..." I trying to connect the dots he found, "how did you know he's gay then?"
"Duh, the ending," he points to the ending note, "the truth always comes out. So you better clean out your closet. It's sounds out like that classic phrase, you know? Coming out of the closet."
My mouth dropped, becoming completely dumbfound that I didn't catch that up quicker. My brother begins to get off the bed, smiling. "Don't be too sad; I know I'm smart."
I rolled my eyes, snapping out of my trance; I threw a pillow in his direction, "shut it."