Sucker Love
One
Stefan was walking home; bag over one shoulder, basketball in one hand. Beside him was Calen, his best mate. He didn’t really consider him a best mate as such, just the best mate he had. He never really bonded with anyone. They never really understood him. There was a crack in the concrete path and as Stefan bounced the ball it veered off to the other side of the street. Calen laughed lightly.
“Hey, I’ll catch up,” Stefan said, watching as the ball started to roll down a side street. He sighed as he jogged after it, really not in the mood for it at all. He’d been at practice all afternoon and it’d drained his energy to the point where all he wished to do was to sleep. As he rounded the bend in the road he spotted a dark figure across the street sitting on the swing at the tiny park. He was barely swinging at all. Stefan could tell that little black bob from anywhere. He’d never seen Brian outside of school, and wondered what he was doing all alone like that. Surely, he had better things to be doing. He took notice of the bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag he had in one hand as he took a swig from it. Then another. Not wishing to intrude but not wishing to simply walk away, Stefan found himself in a hard position. He was freed of it as Brian finally got up and began to walk, a little tipsy, towards the path. He stopped as he caught sight of Stefan standing there alone with his basketball in one hand, a blank expression across his face.
Brian wondered how long he’d been there watching him as he began to walk back home, frantically searching for the mints he had in his pocket somewhere. If his parents smelt the booze on his breath he was as good as dead, let along the cigarettes he’d been chain smoking earlier. He wrapped his cardigan around his frame a little tighter as he passed Stefan, still with that blank look. He felt like snapping at him, but then again he didn’t. He’d done enough yelling today and was sure he’d be doing plenty more soon enough. Besides, he figured it a bad idea to go off at a jock. He sure as hell didn’t want his ass beaten again in school because of his big mouth.
He got home and went straight up to his room, straight to his Bitch. He picked her up and strummed lightly, wishing he was even just a little better at playing. Maybe he could join a band, he thought. It was either that or acting school. He’d decided it already. And if he could be a success in neither, he didn’t know what he’d do. He had no Plan B. He felt he didn’t need it.
“Brian hunny, dinner’s ready.” He smirked at the tone of his mother’s voice. Not hours ago, she’d been quite stern with him. She’d told him what was right and what was wrong, and he hadn’t listened to a word of it. Now, with that cheery tone, it almost felt as if nothing had happened. He put his guitar down and headed to his bathroom, applying another coat of eyeliner just to get a reaction. Happy with his appearance he headed to the dining table with that of a cocky grin across his face.
“Brian sweetie, I thought we’d talked about this,” she started, putting her fork down and folding her arms one over the other.
“You look like a whore.” His father didn’t look up, but kept eating instead. Brian took his seat and began to pick at his food.
“There’s no place for such an appearance in this household, and there shouldn’t be elsewhere. What would God think?”
“Who gives a fuck what he thinks for once,” Brian muttered, stuffing more mash potato into his mouth before he could say anything he’d regret.
“Pardon?” Brian swallowed.
“I said, I already know what he’d think.”
“Well then why are you dressing yourself like that, Brian?” She actually expected an answer from Brian, and he just couldn’t give it to her.
“I don’t know,” he said softly. He couldn’t tell her he was possibly gender confused. He definitely couldn’t tell her he liked to look pretty, no, not in front of his father.
“You need a haircut at least. I can book you in tomorrow, after school?” They were both looking at him now. He stared back in sheer shock of what they were suggesting. What were they suggesting, that he change who he was entirely?
“You’ll never get a job looking like that, boy.”
“I don’t give a shit.” He was beginning to get angry now.
“What’s wrong with you!?” his father suddenly erupted.
“Hunny, don’t yell at him.”
“You’re a bloody faggot, aren’t you!?”
“Watch your language! It’s no wonder he’s always cursing!”
“He’s a bloody failure! He’s not giving anything to society! Hell, he’s got nothing to give!” Brian pushed his plate away quite forcefully as he proceeded to get up from the table.
“Fuck you both!” With that, he was off. He didn’t need that shit after such a long day already. He slammed his bedroom door and collapsed onto his bed, burying his head into his pillow. All his tears were absorbed by the fabric and he fell asleep like that, barely able to breathe.
“Hey, I’ll catch up,” Stefan said, watching as the ball started to roll down a side street. He sighed as he jogged after it, really not in the mood for it at all. He’d been at practice all afternoon and it’d drained his energy to the point where all he wished to do was to sleep. As he rounded the bend in the road he spotted a dark figure across the street sitting on the swing at the tiny park. He was barely swinging at all. Stefan could tell that little black bob from anywhere. He’d never seen Brian outside of school, and wondered what he was doing all alone like that. Surely, he had better things to be doing. He took notice of the bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag he had in one hand as he took a swig from it. Then another. Not wishing to intrude but not wishing to simply walk away, Stefan found himself in a hard position. He was freed of it as Brian finally got up and began to walk, a little tipsy, towards the path. He stopped as he caught sight of Stefan standing there alone with his basketball in one hand, a blank expression across his face.
Brian wondered how long he’d been there watching him as he began to walk back home, frantically searching for the mints he had in his pocket somewhere. If his parents smelt the booze on his breath he was as good as dead, let along the cigarettes he’d been chain smoking earlier. He wrapped his cardigan around his frame a little tighter as he passed Stefan, still with that blank look. He felt like snapping at him, but then again he didn’t. He’d done enough yelling today and was sure he’d be doing plenty more soon enough. Besides, he figured it a bad idea to go off at a jock. He sure as hell didn’t want his ass beaten again in school because of his big mouth.
He got home and went straight up to his room, straight to his Bitch. He picked her up and strummed lightly, wishing he was even just a little better at playing. Maybe he could join a band, he thought. It was either that or acting school. He’d decided it already. And if he could be a success in neither, he didn’t know what he’d do. He had no Plan B. He felt he didn’t need it.
“Brian hunny, dinner’s ready.” He smirked at the tone of his mother’s voice. Not hours ago, she’d been quite stern with him. She’d told him what was right and what was wrong, and he hadn’t listened to a word of it. Now, with that cheery tone, it almost felt as if nothing had happened. He put his guitar down and headed to his bathroom, applying another coat of eyeliner just to get a reaction. Happy with his appearance he headed to the dining table with that of a cocky grin across his face.
“Brian sweetie, I thought we’d talked about this,” she started, putting her fork down and folding her arms one over the other.
“You look like a whore.” His father didn’t look up, but kept eating instead. Brian took his seat and began to pick at his food.
“There’s no place for such an appearance in this household, and there shouldn’t be elsewhere. What would God think?”
“Who gives a fuck what he thinks for once,” Brian muttered, stuffing more mash potato into his mouth before he could say anything he’d regret.
“Pardon?” Brian swallowed.
“I said, I already know what he’d think.”
“Well then why are you dressing yourself like that, Brian?” She actually expected an answer from Brian, and he just couldn’t give it to her.
“I don’t know,” he said softly. He couldn’t tell her he was possibly gender confused. He definitely couldn’t tell her he liked to look pretty, no, not in front of his father.
“You need a haircut at least. I can book you in tomorrow, after school?” They were both looking at him now. He stared back in sheer shock of what they were suggesting. What were they suggesting, that he change who he was entirely?
“You’ll never get a job looking like that, boy.”
“I don’t give a shit.” He was beginning to get angry now.
“What’s wrong with you!?” his father suddenly erupted.
“Hunny, don’t yell at him.”
“You’re a bloody faggot, aren’t you!?”
“Watch your language! It’s no wonder he’s always cursing!”
“He’s a bloody failure! He’s not giving anything to society! Hell, he’s got nothing to give!” Brian pushed his plate away quite forcefully as he proceeded to get up from the table.
“Fuck you both!” With that, he was off. He didn’t need that shit after such a long day already. He slammed his bedroom door and collapsed onto his bed, burying his head into his pillow. All his tears were absorbed by the fabric and he fell asleep like that, barely able to breathe.