Chapter Six:
|Rims and Unwishes|
•••
There was a rushing invasion of chill from the AC. He felt a bit sensitive to it at first, but seconds after turning back the golden knob and shutting the door, he felt more at home with it.
The TV wasn't on and he dreaded it. He wished once in a while Hamilton would have the sport's or some other freaking channel up, and he'd have something to use as a distraction from some of Hamilton's awkward questions of which he wasn't entirely immune providing honest answers to.
Shit! He curses himself each time, and mentally has his palms over his mouth.
Hamilton has been the only living thing he has openly been speaking to since he had his first "breakdown". Talking about his sad life all the time wasn't much of a treat as Aaron would hope, and digressing from his seesaw mental state to a very different topic entirely, was worth the talk. Adrian was worth the talk. It was nice to have someone to talk about his romantic life with –semi pseudo paraplegic romance –even though it wasn't for free.
It felt regular and archaic and old and a total cliché when he took his first step towards the man. He expected to feel something new, but it was still the same. From the ground floor elevator to the third floor where Hamilton's office was; the purple orchid that hung to right side of the door; the room thirty seven copper plated office number with Dr H. E. Greenfield boldly inscribed beneath, everything up unto this moment felt too predictable and strangely insipid.
Inside wasn't any better: the cold AC; black TV screen; the bookshelf that occupied the greater part of the right sage green wall, containing things on psychology, philosophy, and books on the human mind. He could even spot Ben Carson's "Think Big" written across the spine of one of the books. There was a large portrait of he, his ex wife, and his daughters anchored to the side of the shelf. They looked happy with their brooding smiles that stretches the jaw, silver teeth and a calmness from their posture...they were too happy even, only that in Aaron's head, happiness was relatively based on ones state of mind, and it was also a short-term achievement...quite underachieving.
Just opposite the door was a big window with a desk in front of it, it had only a leather chair that will often creak it joints each time Hamilton will choose to either withdraw his weight, or settle it in. Guess from inception, he never did plan on having any conversion by the desk anyways: it could probably be where he felt the most safest at.
Two peach coloured sofas faced each other, just in front of the desk. It had a slim glass table abridging each sofa. Hamilton didn't admire the need for distances between he and his patients, so the table between the couches, was really slender.
Aaron had already considered here a safe space, so the familiarity helped him feel more at home.
"Familiar is safe. New is a variable. Don't consider variables." Aaron's mother would often tell him when he was much much younger.
This familiar office, was home.
"I wasn't expecting you this week. You haven't shown up for the past three weeks!"
Hamilton spoke immediately the door's lock was in. He was flipping the pages of a book so quickly and skimming through the lines like he was hunting the text monster. And of course, the monster hunt had his attention until Aaron took a seat in the sofa right opposite his.
"I didn't feel the need to any longer." Aaron responded while retracting his gaze from Hamilton's, and had his head bent. There was a pounding urge of emotions he wanted to let free, and what they were were things that normally follow with judgement as a teenager, and those were what he wanted to directly avoid: judging eyes.
"I still follow him around you know..."
He dropped it.
"You wha—"
Hamilton was more curious than judgmental.
"Not consciously...it's more semiconscious. I find some excuse like extra exercise and doctor's blah blah blah, just to take the longer route home, but deep down I hope that I get to see him along the way; I even go for RWHB's freaking games since I knew he showed up there once, and sit all through its excruciating boredom; and when I hear that he's likely to be around somewhere or I sense the possibility of an event I feel will normally interest him, I attend, just to see him. I always cook up reasonable excuses to do these, even though I just don't have any sensible reason to, but I find myself doing them."
He sniffed like he was killing a running nose, and never in any attempt did he try to look Hamilton in the eye.
"Oh Aaron..." There was no more sadder way he could have said his name.
"Love doesn't require validation from your senses. It's like a surfer on the open blue ocean. All they know and feel is the force of the wave they ride on, and how its tide leads them. And right now, all you feel is that very wave of emotion, which is brimming with strength, propelling you in it's path —"
Aaron cut in, in an act of self chastisement. He needed reprehension.
"—on his Instagram, I scroll to pictures of him from years back and love them; I even comment in a very nice and friendly way, hoping that he'd acknowledge it and either reply or react to it, but he doesn't, even though I see his post and uploads hours after."
He wanted to feel bad for his somewhat childish stupidity, and he wanted Hamilton to whip him with lashes of words to make him quit his seemingly futile struggle at reaching for the stars.
"I totally understand how you feel –"
Nobody should be chastised for loving another, and the bald therapist knew just that.
"Hamilton, with all due respect, you do not. I even google his interest, watch The Simpsons his favorite cartoon and use pictures of the characters as my social media display photo...I even regulate each character for each week to show how much of a fan I am, just to have his attention, but I don't get them. Maybe he sees it, maybe he doesn't, but I hate to think that he doesn't or that I do not interest him enough."
"When you do see him, what do you do?"
The billion dollar question came, and so did a wrecking ball drop on his chest.
"Nothing!" He slightly cringed and molded a fist, while digging his nails into the flesh of his palms. The pain distracted him from the actual pain.
"I freeze up and stare at him for no good reason. I look at him and I'm lost in thought of so many moments I could have with him, and by the time I snap out of it, he's disappeared with no trace. Most times when I first spot him on my path, I run and hide or take a longer path to my destination."
"Tell me, why are you afraid of him, did he tell you anything in particular?"
"Yes. He told me to stay away from him."
"And do you know why?"
"Because...maybe because I said it's his life and I don't know him, and also the fact that I let him have sex with the girl he hates the most. In my defense he was really drunk, and I did not know where he's stays, and she did as she offered to take him home."
"You know Adrian better than anyone else, what do you really think is the real reason Adrian is pushing you away?"
That wasn't it. The truth was more painful to bring to the surface, a truth he's been in denial of for a very long time. Maybe it wasn't time to admit it yet. "Will admitting it do any good?" He thought.
"The real reason he... The reason is..." He took a deep breath and slowly freed it, raised his head for the first time since he had begun talking, to look into Hamilton's face.
"The real reason he is pushing me away is because he's scared that I'll get hurt if I come into his life."
"Then why are you trying to get hurt?"
"I. Am. Not! I can take care of myself, and I don't need some stranger...some boy to try to protect me from what I already know."
"So that's what hurts you most isn't, and that is the real reason you cannot stay away from him?"
"I don't know. I do not know how to not stay away from him. I sit and think, and all I can think about is him."
"Then don't. Don't stay away from him. Face your fears and let him know that you can handle yourself with him."
Hamilton's words sank and created a new sore in Aaron which Hamilton noticed as Aaron dropped his head again.
"That isn't the case now is it Aaron. You're worried he won't like you, or hell he isn't even into boys?"
Aaron said nothing. His silence spoke louder, and Hamilton heard it all.
"Still," Hamilton said. "You need to face your fears and tell him how you feel Aaron."
The session ended with sighs from both of them.
•••
Twenty five seconds into the game, the whistle was blown.
"Travelling!"
The referee bellowed, and the free throw was taken. The ball flew towards the net, kissed the rim, and bounced away.
Not a second wasted, it was caught mid air this time, and another attempt at the same basket was already set in motion. Rather than jolting into the net, it was halted by a blocking hand, hitting it away in a pass.
It was a five-on-five standard man game, and four minutes had gone by, with only two scoring attempts made.
Knees arched in a perfect attack stance, his narrowed arrow eyes shuffled between everything alive on the court. The distance between him and their opponent's net, the darting ball balancing under the palms of her bouncer, the boys ready to counter any moves he dares, and the utmost, the ball's direction.
From his handling, speed, versatility, body size, focus, and court placement, Adrian knew Devon was the small forward of his team, a sneaky attacker, with the terror of the devil himself.
Sweat slithered down the flesh drawn path on his back, with the ball flying straight for him. The ball stops in his hands, and within the same seconds as it came, Devon sent it back to where it was from, and thus, breaking the other team's guard, as they were fixed in place to tackle him, hoping he'll steal the chance, and go for the kill.
Devon was too smart to pursue vain glory, and chose to live to fight another day.
"1...2...3..."
He made three steps backwards, as his eyes tailed the ball he had shot back.
"4..."
He added another concluding step, and at this point, he was already halfway through the court. After the fourth count, his eyes swiftly ran behind him, and after he measured the distance he required to stakeout, his eyes returned to ball flying between hands and floor, cutting over and below knees, and bouncing with admirable strength.
"...5!"
He readjusted his distance, and got in position, singled his gaze and watched the ball fly to him again.
He was ready. Rather than pass it away, he was set and ready to take his shot. He immediately made a heel spin around to his opponent's net, bent his knee lower than before, aimed his arm at the target. His left hand balanced the ball on it curved edges, with the right stationed to attack. He leapt, sprung his finger, and shot with the tip of his fingers.
The ball accelerated for the net. It first rolled within the rim, before dropping into the basket.
"Three points!"
The ref's whistle cried again, and so did the cheers.
Back flips by Devon's team mate, joyously sparkled and dashed, but the ginger haired jock, jack, went a bit than usual. Bracing with his toes, he sprung up, succeeded in a flip round, but landed on a heel. The pressure and body mass forced a fracture when he landes poorly, and dropped with a dislocated ankle.
His team mates and friends from the opposing team noticed and rushed to his comfort.
Two boys assisted in heaving him above ground, to a height where they'd get to throw his arms over their necks, and carry him out of the court.
Devon's coach, Mr Grundy, on the sidelines screamed for a timeout, the ref acknowledged with the whistle, and Jack was quickly yet carefully carried to the bench.
"Get him to the nurse's office!"
Mr Grundy ordered, and two boys from the bench went to take over from the other two.
"A substitution?"
Devon ran to Mr Grundy, requesting.
"Yes, I know!"
He responded, sighed and dropped his temple to his fingers while trying to figure out who'd best replace Jack's position as the big man.
"McCleron!"
Devon cracked Mr Grundy's already panting mind.
"Uh?"
"Trust me Sir, McCleron can do it."
He wasn't sure if he could, but he would have to trust his guts or call it quits now before it becomes too late tom
"McCleron!"
Devon called out to crowd.
"What are you doing boy?"
The coach was inches away from grabbing the neck of his jersey and tugging at it till Devon choked.
"Trust me coach!"
He gently smiled.
"McCleron!"
He screamed again.
His name resounded in his ear the second time. There was no denying it, the young basketball captain was referring to him for some very stupid reason.
Adrian got up,
"Yve is gonna be the end of me!"
He facepalmed and rose from his seat. He was locked within a tight crowd, since eith Devon, basketball in Ridgewood High had became extremely popular, especially among the girls.
Adrian would have to cut through the multitude for his goal. He took another breath, and began to move towards the aisle.
"Wow, all it took was to call out for you in public? Not as I tough as I'd thought you'd be."
Devon smirked within.
Adrian finally pressed his way to the aisle. He stopped, closed his eyes and slowly drew in air, and had them out when his lungs had it maximum capacity at hand.
He first turned to Devon, and deadpanned, then he made another turn the opposite way, and walked to the gym's exit.
He left the gym, and for some reason, Devon was not entirely surprised.
Many were stunned. Mr Grundy had the "I told you so" look swimming all around his face... He couldn't hide it.
Devon simply crash landed a sigh, and thought of how stupid he must have made Adrian feel for imposing on his person with such a request.
"Stupid me!" He cursed himself under his breath. "Of course he doesn't want to play for so many sensitive reason..." He kept the cursing going in his mind. "I'm such a fool!"
Adrian got into the empty hallway. Too empty that he could hear the subtleness of his feet. Not surprising, most were either at the game, home or someplace less boring.
But something wasn't right. A quick bang from the other end of the hallway broke the serenity. He ignored it as he knew that it might as well be some nerd spending extra time in school.
Again, the same bang dropped, and with it were muffle sounds. Ignoring would have been a better choice, but curiosity can be a bitch sometimes. So he went to check it out.
The closer he got, the more he heard more than just muffles. It was a struggle.
"He's trying to fight back isn't he?"
Someone spoke out.
"... Isn't that sweet!"
Another added.
Adrian came in view of what -who - it was.
Four boys. Three fairly big, and the fourth was skinnier and easily stuffed in the middle of the other three, and one of the hallway lockers.
Adrian looked beyond the four, and turned behind to check the other end of the hallway, and found nobody, not a soul.
The skinny one was trying to avoid Adrian's eyes, as well as on high alert to secure his own face from getting hit.
They didn't seem to have noticed Adrian's presence.
"This guy again!"
Adrian reference was to the nerd, the one who made him drunk and left him with a hoe, the one who's been trying to get close to him.
True, but this wasn't the time to hold on to personal qualms.
"Cowards!"
Adrian spoke out, and had their attention.
"What was that?"
One of the boys responded, and immediately let loose of the nerdy boy's shirt, to fill it in with Adrian's.
"You three make me sick... People like you sicken me to the very core." His brows furrowed, and his gaze narrowed.
"...breaking a few of your bones should be nice —"
"Hey!"
A man called out from another direction at them –the security. He shouted and increased his pace, to meet up with the situation he saw.
"Shit! Cmon, let's get outta here..."
Beating up Adrian would have to wait a while longer, as expulsion wasn't worth the hurt.
"Let's take this up some other time..."
He said to Adrian.
"With pleasure!" Adrian responded without flinching.
Noticing that the boys were running, the security stopped, and turned away.
A crisis avoided uh?
"I didn't know you were this kind."
Aaron said.
Adrian looked at him first, before replying.
"Just because we spent a night drunk together, doesn't mean you know anything about me."
That's where Adrian was wrong, Aaron knew him more than anyone else.
"I may know you more than you think I do."
Aaron said confidently.
"Fuck off stalker..."
Adrian said in total unawareness of Aaron's frequent exercised...
"I -I..."
"Just stay away from me dude!"
Adrian blurted angrily.
"Well, I can not do that, at least not yet..."
Aaron responded, then turned around and left.