The Skeletøn Bøy

TWENTY-FIVE

"And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." ― Sylvia Plath

++ C H A P T E R | T W E N T Y - F I V E ++

Brent could barely believe his eyes when he watched Natasha walk into school dejected. She was always so happy and carefree, with a smile on her face. He would like to believe that she was upset without him, but he knew better. She was the one that broke it off with him, and he had no right to assume she missed him.

That didn't stop him from hoping.

He was piecing together the dots. Elliott stood at his locker, alone. Another rarity - usually he was with Adrian, but his brother was nowhere in sight. The slump of Elliott's shoulders told Brent something was wrong, but he didn't move to confront the pretty boy. Instead, he watched as Natasha did that for him, wrapping an arm around Elliott's shoulders.

Elliott jerked away, a strange reaction, but nothing Brent wasn't used to. It was clear that Elliott hated to be touched. Even Natasha knew this, but she still tried. She wanted Elliott, and the truth burned Brent all over again, just like it had at the dance when she dumped him with a smile in her eyes, like the action didn't hurt he in the slightest.

It probably hadn't.

He watched as Elliott turned away from Natasha, ignoring her completely as he threw his backpack in his locker and slammed the door. Something was wrong, but even Brent knew better than to pry. Elliott hated that more than anything. It was why Elliott had practically pushed Brent out of his house the night of the dance. It felt like forever ago, but it had only been a few days since then.

Brent wanted to be mad at Elliott, but he couldn't be. Even when he ran into Elliott yesterday in the hallway, he couldn't make himself upset with the pretty boy. Even when he was brushed off for class. And later that afternoon when Elliott ignored him at practice.

Something was wrong, alright. But, Brent knew his friendship with Elliott was basically nonexistent, and there was no way Elliott would spill his problems for Brent to understand. He was always so closed off.

And what surprised Brent even more than Elliott pushing away Natasha was watching him walk right towards him with a frown on his lips. He didn't stop until he was right in front of Brent, with his arms crossed.

"Tell Natasha to knock it off. Please."

Brent wanted to laugh at the situation. Elliott clearly didn't like Natasha the way she liked him. It was comically, and made Brent smile.

"I wish I could, but she's not my girl anymore. She's yours."

Elliott didn't think the joke was funny. "I'm serious, Brent. She's like a lonely dog."

Brent continued to smile. He was glad that Natasha wasn't getting the guy. He was still so upset at how she broke up with him, and he didn't want her to be happy. Not if it wasn't beside him.

"Well, Elliott, she's your problem. Just tell her you don't like her."

"As if it's that easy!" Elliott threw his arms up in exasperation. "I can't handle it anymore! She gives me these looks, like she's begging for some kind of attention."

Brent laughed at that. "Aren't all women?"

Elliott snorted at that comment and leaned against the locker in a normal teenage fashion. Brent was amazed Elliott was even talking to him after yesterday. Something most certainly happened between practice and now, but he didn't dare ask. He was positive Elliott would clam up and ignore him again. For sure.