Unconditional love

Thank you teeta, Kolgrim, silken-skies, Canis, luckeme, sarah, CaFFy, meg, Child of the Darkened Moon and Eisheth for your reviews. Found a beta. Thank you IdleFlame! _____________________________________________________________________

Chapter 4

 

At 11 am I have breakfast in silence. There’s always silence in our house. No radio, no music, no conversation. Other people would feel uncomfortable, but that is just the way we are.



I can see Dad in the living room. He’s reading, sitting in his couch. The wall of newspaper symbolizing the distance between us.



He’s not interested in me. He wants to know when I’m home or out, and whether or not I do my homework and have good grades. That’s it. Other than that, he has no interest in who I am or what I want. I know I am a failure to him. A rubbish son. Too bad for him he only has one.



As I am finishing my bowl of cereal, my mother comes into the kitchen.



“Good morning,” she smiles. “Are you going to the Arndale today?”



She’s offering me a ride, but I don’t need one so I shake my head. Brandon has to work today. It’s after 10 so he’s already at the 'adult lifestyle' store. He will be tired from staying up all night so he probably won’t have coffee after work. No reason to go to the Arndale.



“No plans?” she asks.



Unlike Dad, Mom usually tries to fake interest. She used to shout at me all the time when I was little, always telling me to shut up and listen to my father. And I did. Until suddenly, when I was in the fifth grade she noticed that I had a few problems, since then she has been reading all sorts of books about raising children, hoping it will magically turn her into a good mother. She asks me how I feel, and I say fine. Our daily routine. It makes her feel at ease.



“I’m going to see Ryan later this afternoon about that school project.”



“Will you be home for dinner?”



I nod. I think so. I expect to see Brandon come home from work until after 5. I don’t have any further plans.



“Okay, see you guys tonight then.” She kisses me on the cheek and then leaves.



I look at Dad and his wall of newspaper. I hate Saturdays when Brandon is at work. Nothing to do all day but wait…



So I guess I'll be checking out the birders website and read comments on the forum out of ultimate boredom. Who know maybe someone posted something interesting this week.





~





I sit down in my favourite spotting place in the bushes across Brandon’s apartment when he comes home from work around 5:15 pm. Like I expected, he went straight home. He’s probably tired because he didn’t get much sleep, though I’m pretty sure he’ll go out again tonight. Tomorrow it’s Sunday and he will have a day off.



I watch him go to the front door of the building. He’s smoking a cigarette, and he stops in front of the door, waiting to finish his smoke.



I don’t really know why, but he usually does that. He smokes in his apartment, but I guess the landlord put a no smoking sign in the corridor or the lift.



He’s looking in my direction.



He can’t see me, I assure myself. Even if I‘m not really invisible, I’m pretty well hidden and camouflaged.



Then why is he still looking in my direction? It makes me a little nervous. Perhaps he remembers my little mistake from last night? Maybe he’s wondering if I’m still hidden here. That would be pretty bad because I AM here.



My heart skips a beat when he finally moves. He throws away the cigarette, and he’s coming right at me. There’s no escape!



Turn around! I somehow hope I get sudden magical mind power that could compel him NOT to walk in my direction and expose me.



“What the…” he says as if he can’t really believe it himself.



He saw me. Game over. I want to move. I want to duck or run for cover, but I am paralysed. He comes right at me. He’s angry. Furious. I can hear my fast heartbeat burst my ears.



“What the fuck?!” he yells while he pushes a few plants aside. I stare at him open mouthed. I feel dizzy. I can feel I’m going completely pale while I try to calculate how BAD this situation is, but I still can’t move.



“Timmy? Are you fuckin’ spying on me?”



He looks right into my eyes. He said my name. He never called me Tim or Timothy. Always ‘Timmy’, he still sees me as a little child. That’s right, he can SEE me! He knows who I am and he knows I am here. I gasp. My vision becomes a blur and all I can see are black spots.



“Hey, I’m talking to you!” I hear Brandon’s voice and I feel a painful impact against my knee. He kicked me. I try to focus on him. He’s so hot with his brown eyes ablaze. He’s talking to me. I can’t believe it. I’m shaking all over. He can see ME!



“Don’t you try to pretend you’re handicapped or something. I know you can understand me just fine. I’ve had it with you, you fucking creep! It’s not enough you follow me around in the Arndale anymore? Now you’ve got to fucking stalk me at my own house?”



I hear my voice make an incomprehensible sound. It sounds like a painful moan. So he did notice me. He just… chose to ignore me?



What the hell did I expect? Why on earth should I believe Brandon would ever be nice to me? I’m a hideous freak. That’s why I never actually tried to initiate conversation with him in the first place. Well, if I ever wondered what he really thought of me he just gave me the answer.



“I should tell your parents!”



Those few words throw me into reality again. I’m sitting on the ground, hidden in a few bushes on other people’s property in broad daylight. Brandon knows I follow him around and threatens to tell my parents. My head is spinning and I can’t focus. This doesn’t make sense at all. It can’t be happening!



Though still completely numb, I manage to stand up, raising my hands defensively. I am scared. Terrified he will do as he said but I can’t bring out one simple word that makes sense.



“That got your attention didn’t it?” I look at him. The anger made room for a mean smile. Now that I’m standing on my feet I notice we’re about the same height. It is strange. Somehow I thought he was a lot taller than me. I haven’t stood so close to him in years. It’s amazing. Overwhelming.



“What are you still standing around here for? Go home you dirty little creep!” He gives me one more unfriendly glare and then he turns around and walks toward his front door. “I swear if I ever see you outside here again I’ll call the police.” He says without looking back.



Brandon hates me.



It hits me. I didn’t want to know that. I never expected anything from him. I just wanted to see him, admire him from afar. So it never mattered what he actually thought of me as a person. Because I always thought he didn’t know I was there.



But he does know. And he hates me. He told me I’m a dirty little creep and that really is what I am. And now I can never come back to this place and watch him in silence. Because he will know I am here. And he doesn’t want me to be here.



So stupid. It’s all my own fault for being so thick. This wasn’t supposed to happen and I don’t know how to undo it. But I must undo it because it hurts. I hurts so badly I can feel tears are stinging in my eyes.



I run. I’m going home because there really is no other place to go.



BRANDON HATES ME.



I try to wipe off the tears with the back of my hand but it doesn’t help. They keep coming. This awful feeling possesses me completely.



What’s the matter with me? What else could I have ever expected?



His voice endlessly replies the words in my head. Go home you dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep…





~





When I get home I quickly get out of my coat and go upstairs to my room. My eyes are spilling water at such rate I should worry about getting dehydrated. It has been years since I cried, and I hate it. I keep making uncontrollable sobbing sounds, and they get even worse as I throw myself into bed and pull a pillow over my head.



I’m crying like a helpless baby. Just because I’ve discovered what I should have known all along. I urge myself to calm down and be rational about this, but I can’t control it.



BRANDON HATES ME.



I hear sounds in the corridor, and I try even harder to be silent, but the sound of footsteps is getting closer.



“Dinner will be ready in half an hour…” I hear my mother’s voice. She enters my room. I keep my face hidden. She really can’t see me like this.



“Tim?” she suddenly sounds very worried, “What’s going on?”



My mind starts racing in a search for excuses for my current condition. I have to think up a pretty good lie to explain why I’m sobbing out loud in my bed on a regular Saturday evening.



She sits down next to me and gently touches me. She sounds calm, but I can tell she is worried. “Want to talk to me about it?”



I shake my pillow-covered head.



A long silence. I still can’t stop crying and it’s annoying the hell out of me. If only mom could understand what I’m going through. But I can’t tell her about Brandon. I can’t tell her what I do, where I was when he caught me.



“He…” mom says hesitantly as if she’s looking for the right words. “He’s not just a friend, is he?”



I stop breathing and my eyes open widely.



She must be talking about Ryan. I told her I would see my friend today, and she finds me here crying, making her jump to the conclusion that the reason I’m crying… is Ryan?



It’s amazing. Even though she’s way off, she understands the essence of my sadness. That I am heartbroken. It really is that ridiculous. I’m heartbroken over my idol, my god, who has seen and judged me. I’m a dirty little creep.



I hesitantly reveal my face to look at her with my swollen red eyes. She is startled, her expression filled with compassion.



“I don’t want you to see me like this,” I hear myself sob.



“It’s ok Tim…” She hugs me and I hug her back. “At least I know you do have emotions.”



What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I have emotions, I just choose not to share them… normally. So I’m silent and I stick to my routines. She’s my mother, for crying out loud. Did she think I was a machine?



She soothes me slowly, nursing my broken heart. My sadness seems to affect her so much I feel she’s almost crying with me, even though she has no idea what I’m so sad about. That is so typically her.



So here I am, crying in my bed, in my mother’s arms.



I’m so pathetic.



“Tell me about him. About Ryan.”



It’s Brandon. Not Ryan. BRANDON. Ryan is just some bloke from school who’s name I used to pretend I have a friend.



“I don’t want to… He’s…” I don’t want to talk about Brandon and talking about the real Ryan is absurd.



“What is he like? He’s in your school right?”



I nod numbly. I won’t tell her the truth, so I will go with the story she imagined. Ryan is just a boy, who doesn’t stand out. Just like me. I picked him as my friend because he’s a silent person like me, not popular, not hated, just some guy. For some reason he’s able to see me sometimes. He's nice to me, and he even talks to me sometimes even though I usually wish that he wouldn't. He's not particularly good looking, not hideous like me… just a guy.



“He’s just… a guy…” I hope she drops it.



“You don’t need to be ashamed of that… I… we… We won’t judge you if you like… you know.”



Um... Did I just come out?

Holy shit! I just told my mom I’m gay! I didn’t actually say it but it’s the conclusion she came to when she walked into my room and it’s way too late to deny it now.



I can tell she’s slightly uncomfortable with the idea, but she’s doing her best to be supportive, which is actually more than I’d given her credit for. I guess she may have suspected, or thought about it at least.



The sobbing stopped. I look at her. Mom knows I’m gay. Mom will tell Dad. Dad will tell my grandmother, and the whole family that I am a poofter. Tim is a poof. A bum-boy. A chutney ferret. A fudge nudger. Bent as a nine pound note. I always thought they would completely freak out when they found out, now I don’t care whether they know or not. Because BRANDON HATES ME.



That is all that matters.



I burst into tears again. His words repeat in my head over and over. Dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep dirty little creep…



I want to die.