Sweetspot - Reddie

11

Choking sobs.

Scrunched tissues, littering the floor and piling over the top of the trash can that sat under Eddie's desk.

A soft pillow damp with the saltiness of tears.

And, finally, a sobbing 15 year old boy, creasing his bedspread, head buried into his pillow, white fists grabbing at the sheets.

After the kiss, Eddie knew something.

Something that could destroy him forever, something scary. Scarier than the clown they had faced last summer, he would go as far to say.

I love you.

"I'm gay."

Eddie repeated these shameful words from bleeding lips- lips that still ached, through the disgust of it all- still ached and ached for his best friend's.

"I'm gay. I'm fucking g-g-gay." Eddie's head throbbed from his incessant sobbing.

With little strength, he pushed his weak body up from his damp pillow and let his back melt into the wall behind him, his eyesight blurred like a wet camera lense.

You were meant to hate him! You biked away from him, loving every part of him and hating every part of yourself, you biked away from him through the meadow...away, away.

His cruel and echoing thoughts rattled his brain, causing fresh tears to flow down his blotched cheeks. He hated himself. He hated these mind-forged manacles, how they chained his heart and dared him to attempt at freedom.

Conflicting feelings, every moment of every day of every week of every month of every year since I've known him. Everything's oscillating between I love you and I hate you. He's caught me in a never ending ache of knowing myself and not knowing a thing. Damn, I'm a walking contradiction. My feelings splitting me into two. I know how I love you; you can't love!

How can I feel so sure but so lost too? A confident boy who feels overwhelmed with shame.
-

When Eddie reached home, his mother was in her armchair, not moved from the morning, darning her rainbow stockings back together whilst the television hummed in background.

Eddie had thundered up the stairs, his throat swollen and his heart thumping with horrible certitude. The door had slammed behind him and he had sunk to the warm flooring- the sunlight had baked it- with a breaking heart.

"Eddie-Bear!? Oh Eddie-Bear! You don't feel sick do you? Please, Eddie, you must tell your mommy right away!"

Mommy.

"I-I-I have a h-headache, m-mo-mommy."

"Oh, sweetie! Don't worry, Eddie-Bear! Your mommy's going to fix you right up again! I'll run you a nice, cool, bath and fix you some soup and honey and lemon to cool your head, Eddie. I'll find your medication. Your mommy's going to have you right as rain, Eddie-Bear just you wait."

Eddie's mother kept to her word. She always did.

She barged into Eddie's room with spectacular force, like a soldier bursting into their base with news of the enemy- and held her son in her arms as he sobbed, a warmth to her fat cheeks and a smile stretched on cracked lips.

The cool bath was run, Eddie was wrapped up into a fresh set of summer pyjamas, a cold flannel pressed to his forehead and bundled into his bed.

The soup was cooked and delivered to the 'sick' boys room along with a mug of honey and lemon to sooth his roughened throat. The pills were taken, multiple times, and Eddie's doctor was called, an appointment scheduled for 9:00 sharp next morning, which was a Sunday.

And now as Eddie sat up in his bed, bundled in the duvets like a little boy, he felt nothing but numbness.

His room was dark by now, the nights moon shone, his alarm clock reading 11:00 pm. The whole house was silent, the only sounds were those of the owls and midnight cats.

Eddie felt strangely....at peace.

I love him and I'm gay. I know I love him and I know I'm gay.

Because sometimes you need to follow the pathway of your tears down your cheeks to find the right direction.