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The room smelled of bitter morning coffee and regret. The thin boy crept from the bed, his posture slumped, his eyes glum as he headed out to what he remembered was the kitchen.
When he sees the man in the kitchen, his heart rate rises, even if it’s only slightly, he can feel his heart pound faster in his chest.
His eyes widen, a facade of never-ever-again’s slipping through his fingers when he takes a few hopeful steps forward. Maybe they could talk about this. Maybe they didn’t mess it up.
“Morning” the guy cooking eggs by the stove sighs. He sounds tired. The boy could see his drooping under-eyes from where he stood (frozen). Did he even go to sleep last night?
Ryan shook his head and left the eggs unattended while he takes a few cautious steps toward the younger of the two. Ryan sighs.
The other boy holds his breath, waiting for the worst. Refraining from leaping up and kissing Ryan. He couldn’t read the man for anything, so it seemed. It made him mad, frightened him, even that he couldn’t even figure out what Ryan was thinking of him. He couldn’t even figure out if this was supposed to be a positive moment in their relationship or a negative one.
An ending, or a beginning?
After a few, agonizing, long drawn-out moments, Ryan pulls him into a short and sweet hug. Letting him go and looking him in the eyes. For a moment there, his wall wasn’t up. The boy could see so many feelings inside those honey eyes it overwhelmed him. Ryan turned back to his eggs. The boy tried to remember how not to cry.
It didn’t work.
Turning down the stove Ryan serves the eggs to a different plate and the disappears into the bedroom. He returns with the boy’s bag with his shirt draped over it.
His eyes are red. “You have to go, okay?” He says. It’s harsh, but soft and the smaller boy doesn’t know what to say. He only takes it as more tears begin to spike the backs of his eyes. A couple heavy ones fall as he takes them. He wipes them away roughly.
Ryan reaches out a hand. The boy hits it away, appalled. He turns to the door, just as Ryan is latching his long fingers to his side. Ryan twists him back to where they were facing each other. “If you want to help both of us, don’t speak of us.” He says, his voice serious like that first day.
The boy only nods, wiping away more tears. He puts his shirt on in the quiet living room and grabs his bag from the floor. “Goodbye” he speaks once before leaving Ryan in the darkness of his own apartment, wondering how he was going to fix this one.
He knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing things like this. He was a teacher for pete’s sake. Anyone could see him. Anyone could suspect. He sat on his couch, burying his head in his hands, letting out a long sigh.
All of this happened on June third 2017. A quiet day, though it was anything but after the boy had left his apartment. And soon to be much to Ryan’s dismay, there would soon be way more of that boy to come.