Changing Will [boyxboy]

Changing Will {22}

                “Ethan, are you up?” My dad pushed my bedroom door open and peeked in. He frowned deeply. “Kid, did you sleep at all last night?”

                Kid. I hated it when he called me that. It was his own special way of disowning me in speech.

                I set down the book I was reading and looked up at him. “Man, no I didn’t.”

                “What’s wrong? You’re usually sarcastic. That’s totally normal for you. But right now, you’re being viciously sarcastic,” he said. “Did something happen?”

                “Oh no, my life is just dandy daddy,” I said.

                I hadn’t slept since Will had left me out in the rain on the side of the road. I was exhausted, constantly verging on panic attacks, and rapidly losing control of my composure.

                “Look, this whole situation with Will is really hurting you Ethan. Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, stepping into my room.

                “There’s nothing to talk about. He broke up with me for understandable reasons, and that’s that. Relationships end,” I said with a shrug, not wanting to tell my dad just how much my world had crumbled down when Will drove away from me that night.

                “You haven’t eaten in almost two days,” he said.

                “It’s a new diet I’m trying out,” I said.

                “What, anorexia? Ethan, you’re too skinny as it is. You need to eat and sleep. And you need to come out of your bedroom. It was fine when Benji was over. But he left, and you still haven’t come out of your room,” he said.

                “Maybe I just like it in my room,” I said.

                “Please, come out of your room. We’ll go out and get lunch somewhere. It’s a weekend, and you shouldn’t be holed up in your room,” he said.

                “Did mom put you up to this?” I asked suspiciously.

                “Put me up to what?” he asked in surprise.

                “To acting like you care,” I said. My mind was begging me to stop, but a wave of exhaustion and depression drowned my rational thoughts.

                “Ethan, what on earth are you talking about?” he asked.

                “I’ve overheard you and mom before. You’re ashamed of me and you can’t deny it. I’m just your gay, scrawny, outcast of a son, and you can’t stand it. You hate that you can’t stand it, but that makes it so much worse. Because you don’t want to be ashamed of me. You try not to be. But you’re so ashamed and disappointed in me that you can’t even convince yourself that you’re not,” I said coldly.

                He stared at me in shock. I could tell that I was right though. I could see how much it killed him to hear the truth.

                “Ethan,” he said weakly. “That’s not true. I love you.”

                “The people we love the most are the ones that disappoint us the most,” I said, dropping my gaze. “We have high hopes for them, and when they fail, it hits us hard.”

                A moody boy with tangled hair flashed through my mind, and I pushed the image away.

                He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone exploded into life at that moment. He pulled it out of his pocket and sighed.