MISSING YOU - Byler

03 - Fear

I stand still trying to remind myself that's it's okay because nobody knows. Nobody can judge me if they don't really know me. And sure as hell Mike can't. Jonathan probably wouldn't mind. If I think about it throughly, I know he has other stuff to worry about. But still, I know that being open about it would change everything. My friendships. My family's relationship. My own self doubts.

It would ruin everything. Sometimes I try to affirm myself that there's nothing bad about it, though I know it's not true.

Fuck.

Even I have used that word as an insult.

Miss Lawson is the only person I have shared that part of me with, and I'm sure that if I hadn't I would've exploded. That secret was consuming me. And now I'm all alone with my thoughts again.

It's weird. I have this method of detaching myself from reality that seems to works extremely well.

I grab a pen and paper from my backpack to sketch a quick drawing. That will calm me down. It distracts me. Drawing always does the trick. Even if I don't like the way it turns out or If I end up throwing it away after. It's my way of forgetting everything and everyone.

So I start on the drawing, trying too hard to not break the pencil with the strength I'm applying. But still, it works. Too damn well.

...

"Mom I don't want to wear that, it looks ridiculous" I say laughing at the horrendous piece of clothing she just gave me. A green shirt with yellow stripes going on all sorts of directions.

"It's adorable Will" she looks at the shirt with a big smile. "Just promise you'll at least try it on"

"Okay" I return the smile. I know this shirt might've just cost her today's gas or even more. And to be honest, green is my favorite color so why not give it a try?

"Thanks for thinking of me when you saw.. this" she laughs at my little snarky comment. I put the shirt on. It's a bit big on me, but I don't tell her, though I'm sure she can tell.

"No problem" she smiles as she sees the shirt on me. Looking like she's proud of her decision.

The door rings.

"I must get that'" Mom says and walks away from my room. Meanwhile I just keep staring at the shirt. It's green. But like a good green, it's not light neon green, or dark forest green. It's a green that suits me. My kind of color.

I've gotten used to wearing hand me downs from Jonathan all of my childhood, but ever since mom got that new job at  Melvaid's grocery store she has focused on getting us stuff we need. It's good to see those changes.

Then, quiet murmurs sound faintly coming from the door.

I recognize my dad talking, constantly getting shushed by mom.

"He should come with me, we've discussed this" he said

"...trying to take care of..." I manage to hear mom "but he can't Lonnie"

Then a loud thump hits the floor.

"Bullshit" dad says trying not to yell. "My own son can't spend time with me? I've changed Joyce"

After a couple of seconds of discussion, the voices stop, followed by the sound of the door closing rapidly and loudly.

"Don't come back" I hear mom in between sobs.

...

"Will" someone wakes me. Shaking me. I open my eyes only to be met with someone that I know too well. Maybe because I've known them since I was like 5 years old, but the comfort they bring might be because every single day I look out for those eyes to look at me. And he's doing it right now.

"Will?" He says again.

Damn. I'm staring.

"Yeah- what's up?" I say getting up from the place I unintentionally fell asleep on. The tiles now feel cold.

"What are you doing here?" Everyone's been worried sick for you" Mike says with a confused frown.

"Uh- I came here to sleep? Obviously"

"You sure?" He signals to the drawing.

Fuck.

A messy drawn portrait of my mom lays down in my lap. The pencil is missing, probably on the floor somewhere. I don't answer him.

He sighs. "You can always tell me what's happening- or how you feel. You know that, right?"

"Of course" I look at his eyes again. Gosh the poorly lit light makes him look even more beautiful.

"It's late. Like late late" Mike says. "It's already 4:30"

Oh. He's right.

"You know, Jonathan called asking for you but I just said we were hanging out"

"That's good." I nod. "He would've called the police and that's not uh- exactly good"

"Yeah I know"

Then silence. Quiet but confortable. It's nice to talk to Mike like this, even if most of my distress from earlier came directly from the fact that I like him. He's staring at the drawing now, trying to decipher something I don't quite get. I mean, It's my mom. My mom with a soft smile and her hair mid air, like when a soft breeze hits you. Moments pass and Mike gets closer to me. He sits down right besides me in the floor of this bathroom. Thankfully no one comes here because this would be a weird sight. He just looks at me, trying to say something. I know it. I know how he acts.

"It's beautiful" he says through breaths. It's exactly what I thought Mike would say.

I thank him and look right at his eyes. He knows I'm hurting. He knows me like I know him.

"Right after Miss Lawson's uh- conversation- I walked here" I explain. "I guess drawing was relaxing enough to make me sleep" 

Mike and the rest know about the counseling sessions ever since shit went down. They sometimes help me study the classes I miss.

"You've gotten better at drawing" he says not taking his eyes off it. "Have you drawn- or like- painted, yourself? Ever?" He places a hand on my left shoulder, I try not to shiver.

"I don't think so"

"Hm" Mike sighs and then- "you should. I bet you'll look as good on a sheet of paper"

I smile but not because I'm happy. I smile because it's the only reaction he expects from a totally normal best friend who can take a compliment.