perf*ct (boy × boy) ✔

twenty-eight: chicken or the egg

nathan dawson's pov:

I was sitting in our kitchen and playing with the hem of the table cloth. Jeffrey was facing away from me while chopping garlic for the sauce. The pasta was already cooking and I felt so nauseated I was certain I would never eat again.

Mom was watching television in the living room with Jonathan and I could hear a steady murmur of their voices, rising and falling like waves. My heart was throbbing and I wasn't sure why I felt like I was going to confess a crime. Even if I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, it surely felt like it.

"J-Jeffrey.. I-I.."

"What is it?" Jeffrey set down the knife, realizing I had something important to tell him. When I still didn't say a word, he washed his hands and took a seat next to mine. Then he leaned closer and gave me a reassuring smile "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

"I think I-I.. I might.. I.." I stopped and took a deep breath to calm myself. "I think I have dyslexia."

"Dyslexia?" Jeffrey blinked. He placed a hand on top of mine and studied my face intensively. I had never seen him looking so serious, so sad. "Are you sure?"

"W-well, no, but y-yes. I think so." I hung my head. "Jeffrey, I'm sorry."

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me dad?" When I glanced up, Jeffrey's eyes were pensive, but he was smiling. "And this isn't something you need to apologize for. If you have it, it's not your fault and it isn't the end of the world."

When I looked at him, wearing a green apron and his bald head shining under the ceiling light, I realized he was more like a father to me than my dad has ever been. I'm not saying that my dad wasn't a good dad, I just can't remember much of him. I was six years old when mom divorced him, and now me and Nicholas see him like once every two years. Jeffrey, on the other hand, didn't treat me or Nicholas any less like his biological children than he treated Jonathan. 

"I-I didn't want you to think I'm s-stupid, and I've been trying really hard, but.." I felt like I needed to explain myself.

"We would never think you're stupid." Jeffrey pointed out, shaking his head slightly to emphasize how ridiculous the idea was. "If you have a disability, it just means that you have a disability. Jonathan has learning disabilities too, and I bet you don't think he is stupid."

"Of course not." It was my turn to shake my head like Jeffrey was being ridiculous. 

"Exactly. So why would it be any different with you?" He asked. Then he hugged me and added: "I'm glad you told me, but I think your mom needs to know about this as well."

When I nodded, Jeffrey leaned back on his chair and hollaed to the living room: "Camille, honey, could you come here for a second?"

"Need a hand with dinner?" Mom asked, her voice jocular. She really wasn't much of a cook, so it was something they liked to make jokes about. But as soon as she peeked into the kitchen, her expression turned serious: "What's wrong?"

I wanted to tell her nothing was wrong, but instead I bursted into tears. The sobbing only got worse, when mom rushed to me and embraced me tightly. I wasn't being too discreet about it, and soon Nicholas and Jonathan appeared on the kitchen door.

When I met Nicholas' gaze briefly, his expression was filled with worry. I buried my face on mom's shoulder, still sobbing like a little child. I wasn't sure if the tears were from relief or sorrow, but I. Just. Couldn't. Stop. Crying. 

"What's wrong?" Jonathan cried out. He was about to rush to us, but Nicholas placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered: "Let's go upstairs. I'll show you that game we were talking about."