Psycho Hot (BoyxBoy)

TWENTY-THREE

Kenneth

"So, let me get this straight, you need to borrow my car to take a two-hour trip to Doncaster?" Adrian crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame of our shared bathroom.

I haven't been lucky enough to purchase a vehicle of my own, yet. That's a work-in-progress. Besides, the bus is equally as good. I usually don't ask to use my friend's car unless it's an urgent situation. This is one of those times.

"C'mon, Adrian, this is important," I plead, a mouthful of toothpaste temporarily impairing my speech.

He stares at me in disgust. "Can you answer me when you're not brushing your teeth?"

Darren told me to catch up on rest before I go on my quest. That was two days ago. Even if I don't want to admit it, he was one hundred percent correct. I'm refreshed, ready to figure this out.

I spit into the sink then smirk at him. "There! Better?"
"Whatever."

"I have to do this," I tell him, hopping onto the counter next to the sink. "If I want a life with Darren, if he wants a life, then this has to be done."

Adrian eyeballs me, asking, "Didn't you say his parents were abusive? Aren't they the ones who sent him there in the first place?"

Adrian didn't believe me the first time I told him that Darren is innocent. When I explained the story the second time, about two weeks ago, it took an hour of convincing. I still think that he's a bit skeptical, but he's come to terms with it.

"Well, his father is the violent one. His mum only let it happen because she's scared for her safety. She couldn't do much about it," I justify.

"Fine, I'll let you borrow my car for the day. Please be safe over there," my flatmate tosses me his keys. "Oh, and don't wreck it, or you'll owe me the damages."

***

     I'm thirty minutes away. Well, that's what the man at the sketchy fuel station told me. I've been following directions from a foldable map and the advice of 24/7 convenience store attendants for the past hour or so. I have to be driving the right way. Or else, I'll be lost in the middle of England.

Before I started on my route to Doncaster, I made a pitstop at Lennon's old house and slipped her letter into their mailbox. She used the pen and paper I keep in my pocket to write to her mum. I'm not sure what it contained, but I don't need to know.

The closer I get to the address, the more my stomach churns. I can almost feel my breakfast coming up. A couple of days ago, I was prepared to do this. Now, I'm having second thoughts.

I have to see this through. I know that. If I can get one of them to change their minds, it could resolve everything.

Ultimately, I reach a small town near Sutton. Cautiously, I drive past the row of brick houses until I see the right one. There's a quaint house on the corner of the street that matches the address on the paper.

As I search for a parking spot, I mentally brace myself for what is to come. Knowing that I'll be face-to-face with Darren's parents for the first time ever makes me restless. The visit isn't ideal either because one, Darren isn't by my side, and two, they're not expecting me. I don't even know if I'll be welcomed in. They could easily slam the door in my face.

There are so many risks involved, but I have to shoot my shot.

The brisk November air slaps my face, tiny needles pricking at my skin. I want to stall this visit, or maybe, turn around instead. Maybe Darren was right; I shouldn't do this...