I slip the pins in the waistband and hope they don't fall, while I warm my hands around the mug. It's lettuce-shaped and it brings out a snicker, I got it for new year's eve two years ago, at a suspicious-looking stand at a traveling flea market that ended up in this forgotten place by pure chance and that probably won't ever show up again. Weird mugs are only allowed for new year's eve anyway, like brooches. Apparently, they have to be regulated because they're useless, even though I use all of my amusing mugs. Mom says I'd become a hoarder if only she'd let me do as I please, which is... wrong. I'm not a hoarder, I'm a collector of oddities, if I may say so myself. Fortunately, I'm also very good at hiding my best findings, because if she already throws tantrums for mugs and brooches I can't imagine what she would do for screws and bones.
-You don't have to go to school tomorrow.-
His voice snaps me out of my wandering thoughts but I don't want to answer yet, so I take a sip of the too-hot, too-sweet tea. I have to hold in a grimace.
-What do you mean?-
-You know what I mean.-
I let out a weird excuse of a sound and bury my head back in the concoction. Dad is a great cook but he couldn't get a tea right to save his life, which is the reason I keep my favorite blends locked away.
-But I want to go.- Mainly because I want to pick up Àngel's things, not because I'm particularly thrilled by the prospect of doing maths for two hours. I don't want to leave them out in the open where his family could get their hands on them, where anyone could get their hands on them. I must look after them for as long as it's needed. Make sure they're safe for his return. If he returns.
-Go and do what? Worry the whole time until you fall asleep on your desk? It's your last month, you have exams to prepare, it's okay to take a day off to take care of yourself,- he's so obviously uncomfortable -Or something like that, yes.-
He's fidgeting with the cup, the spoon, and the sugar bowl he had set on the table earlier, but he still has his eyes on me, as if I, too, could disappear if he looked away.
We haven't always been like this. I guess adolescence hasn't been too kind to our relationship, no matter how hard we've tried. He's made an effort in the past, but no more. I know I'm difficult to deal with, but he doesn't do a stellar job at trying to hide it, just like everyone else doesn't. It's fair, but I'd still rather spend as much time as possible away from him. Away from anyone that isn't Tahani, or Àngel, or, as much as it pains me to admit it, Cedric.
Cedric, who lives in the coolest place in town, Cedric who has a glass ceiling in his kitchen, pallets for couches, sound equipment always laying around, and a dark room. A proper dark room he built himself. Cedric, who doesn't let me on the second floor. Cedric, who fucks my best friend and acts like he's his and nobody else's. Cedric who I hope got scared shitless by Tahani and Palosanto ringing his doorbell while he was smoking one of his fat, beloved blunts. Cedric, who got told about his secret boyfriend going missing and was questioned about it just like I was. Cedric who I didn't warn in any way. Cedric who I haven't checked in on yet.
-Wes? Are you still here with me?-
No. I'm at school. I'm in the fields. I'm in the woods. I'm anywhere but here. I'm at the train station.
-If I wake up in time will you drive me to school?-
-Have you heard any of the things I've been saying in the last half hour?-
-Yes,- I believe, maybe, I'm sure I missed something but I got the big picture, I think, -but if I wake up in time, will you drive me?-
I certainly can't proceed with the original plan now, he would hear me. I could just read a book, but he might see the light filter from under the door. The clock marks 4 am. I'd only have to power through three hours, pretend to sleep, and maybe I'll even fall asleep for real. I hate to admit it, but I'm starting to feel sleepy.
-Wesley...-
-Please, dad,- I plead, -do you really think locking me up would make me feel any better? Has that ever worked on me?- The answer is no, and he knows it. I can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he ponders whether listening to me might turn out to be a good idea or a big mistake.
It's great that humans can't read each other's thoughts, because of we could, he'd already know that it's going t be the latter.
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