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“A tree house?” George asked, climbing up the ladder behind Matty. He watched as the 16 year old flopped down into a yellow bean bag chair, pushing his curls aside as he began to light up a makeshift bong, an old water bottle with tinfoil and weed packed in place of the cap and a hole on the side to smoke from.
Matty's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, he was honestly a bit paranoid that George could tell how nervous he was. He hadn't told the younger boy why he had taken him to the old tree house, just said they were going to hang out. He nodded, gesturing towards a faded blue bean bag chair across from him as he inhaled the smoke from the hole in the side of the bottle.
He held out the bong and lighter to George, who had now sunken into the blue chair, he shook his head. Matty placed them on the floor before leaning back to stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah a tree house, this place has kinda been my safe space for, fuck, nearly a decade now. Been coming here since my cousin's helped me build it when I was 7.”
The younger boy looked around, noticing a sheet pinned up and covering the back wall of the tree house. “Why is there an old sheet pinned up? Wall broken?” George asked. Matty shook his head, glancing wearily to the wall and back at George. “I write everything on that wall, all my secrets and poems and lyrics and.. yeah.” he paused for a moment, “No one's allowed to read it.” George just nodded.
Matty looked at George and smiled. He's had a dying crush on the 15 year old for just over two years now, and was finally planning on telling him today, maybe kissing him. Matty had never kissed a boy before, he kissed a girl once in grade 6 to make a school bully believe he was straight, he had gone home and cried that night. Cried until he fell asleep with a hole in his chest and fear in the pit of his stomach.
It had taken Matty years to come to terms with the fact that he likes other boys, and now he's finally worked up the courage to tell George how he felt. He was scared, scared this was wrong, scared this would ruin everything, but he couldn't live with this being a secret anymore. He was snapped out of his thoughts by George moving his seat closer to Matty, and his heart started racing again. George was close enough now that if he wanted to he could lean forward and kiss the other boy, finally letting him know how he felt.
His stomach was in knots as he contemplated what to do, knowing he would probably break down crying if he tried to talk about it, probably drive George away with how worked up he was over the whole thing. He sighed and made his decision, blurting out “Please don't hate me.” before leaning across the gap and pressing his lips against George's.
He felt fear bubbling up in his chest when George didn't kiss back, and his stomach sunk as George's hands pressed against his chest before he shoved the older boy off him. Matty blinked up at George, trying to fight back tears as George made a face of disgust towards him. He felt so small and weak, lying on the wooden floor, the boy he was in love with looking at him like he was a monster. He felt something in his chest break as he let out a small, “I'm so sorry.” His voice cracking and his vision blurring with tears.
George scoffed, rubbing at his lips as if Matty had just given him a disease, shaking his head in shock. “Matty what the fuck is wrong with you?” He shouted, and god was he angry. Matty wished he could disappear, he wished George would stop staring at him laying on the floor crying, he wished he could hide how much this hurt him. “Are you a faggot now Matty? Is that why you brought me up here, to try to make a move on me?” Matty's heart ached, and he was fully convinced that George's words had torn his heart in two.
“No, I'm sorry.” He choked out, sitting up on the floor and wiping at the tears on his face with the sleeves of his jumper. “I'm so sorry, I didn't know you wouldn't like it. I thought you would understand.” He sobbed, the walls were closing in on him as George spat at him, “Dirty faggot.” before grabbing his backpack, making his way out of the tree house and down the ladder, and Matty felt like he was being left to die.
“I'm sorry.” He sobbed out again, but George was gone, he hated Matty. “He's right, you're a dirty fucking faggot and you ruin everything.” He said to himself. He let himself just sit on the floor for a bit, ugly sobs tearing from his chest and tears streaming down his face. He rummaged around in his backpack, grabbing a marker before standing up, and all but ripping the sheet down from the wall and he continued crying.
His eyes raked over the wall, confessions and poems and song lyrics he has been filling up the wall with since he started this when he was 11 didn't matter to him anymore. He found the confession, “I think I might be gay.” Scribbling it out before writing “Dirty faggot” under it, and he didn't stop there. He started writing “he hates you” “you ruined everything” “fucking fag” “I'm so sorry” under anything about George, any poems about being gay, any thoughts and fears he had written out about loving George. Anything about himself was now covered with reminders of how fucked up he was, how disgusting he was and how he had ruined his friendship with the only boy he had ever loved.
He finished with the words “This is my fault” in big letters in the bottom corner, the only free space that had been left on the wall. He capped the marker and shoved it back in his bag, wiping his eyes and making his way down the ladder. He started towards home before stopping short, taking off his backpack and checking how much money was in his wallet. Just short of 90 pounds. He decided he wasn't going home tonight, no, he was taking the first train to London, he wasn't ever going home, he wasn't staying in Manchester.
On the three and a half hour train ride he didn't do much but cry, didn't do much but think about George. He also cried about his Mum and brother, god Louis wouldn't understand why he was gone or that he wasn't coming back. His mum would go mental looking for him, but he didn't care too much because less than a week later his mum would be crying in the family room, Louis clutching to her leg. Scared as he saw his brothers face, the photo on Matty's school ID, on the news. Scared as the reporter said words he didn't understand like “suicide”, as Denise rushed Louis up to his room and told him everything would be alright.
George saw the news report too, his heart dropping as the news reporter went over the gruesome details of his body being found mangled under the tracks of a train. Tears filling his eyes as he shut off the TV and ran to his room, shutting the door and falling onto his bed. This was his fault. He did this because he was too scared to admit he liked Matty back, because he was too scared and he had too much internalized homophobia to let Matty know he felt too.
“This is my fault.” he mumbled to himself, alone in his room.