Change

I woke up at around 10:30 to the vibration of my phone under my pillow. Apparently his mom was letting us skip school today, which is something I was most definitely okay with. I quietly grabbed my phone and left the room without disturbing Brendon in his precious slumber. I answered it just in time. A woman’s voice was on the other line.

“Ryan, I’m sorry but your father has passed away due to alcohol poisoning. We did everything we could, but it had been in his system for much too long. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t even answer. The phone slipped out of my hand and hit the floor with a crash. I found myself on my knees, hands lightly tugging at my hair. I didn’t know what emotion to choose. I could be upset, but he was a douche. I could be happy, but that would make me a douche. I just felt empty. I felt drops of water on my legs, knowing they were my tears.

I sat like this in the hallway for quite sometime before realizing I was still at Brendon’s house. He had woken up to the sound of my phone, I think, and entered the hallway to witness my pathetic state. He saw my phone, completely smashed on the hardwood floor and looked back at me.

A hand came into view next to my own as he helped pick me up off the floor. I looked up at him, and his eyes were beginning to water as if he knew what happened without even asking. “It’s all over now, Ryan. It’s going to be okay.”

I didn’t speak. I just stood there, eyes glued to his. “Brendon… I…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. I broke down again, collapsing on top of him. Luckily, his fast reflexes caught me instead of knocking us both over. He stood me back up, straightening my posture.

“How about some breakfast?” He asked but didn’t wait for an answer. I was alone in the hallway again as he went into the kitchen. One foot after another, right then left then right again, I slowly walked into the kitchen after Brendon. He was preparing French toast, like a pro.

“Thanks.” I said. I didn’t look up at him. I just sat down at the table. My hand held my cheek. It too became wet with tears. Brendon continued cooking, keeping his attention on the food and nothing but the food. I watched him, mesmerized. Never had anyone cooked for me. It was always me cooking for myself and my father, and it was never any good, either.

Eventually he brought over some of the most delicious-looking French toast I had ever seen, and my stomach was overly-excited to see this masterpiece. The growl was loud and Brendon began to giggle. That sweet, angelic giggle made the corners of my mouth move up in just the slightest way.

“This is amazing.” I said with as much enthusiasm as possible.

“Eh, my mom makes it better.”

I just rolled my eyes at him, doubting that anyone could make better French toast than this. I ate it up so quickly, and that seemed to make Brendon happy. But then, he brought up something even I haven’t thought about yet.

“So… do you know where you’re gonna stay now?” He questioned me, his facial expression became somewhat serious.

“Uhh… I haven’t really thought about that…” I contemplated this a little and added on, “but I am just barely 18 now, and I don’t really have any family I can stay with.”

He looked down at his empty plate for a bit while deep in thought. “You know… we do have a guest room you could stay in while you sort things out, if you’d like. I’d have to ask my mom first but… I’m sure she won’t mind. Anything to help a friend, right?”

Friend. Right. “Really?”

Another gorgeous smile lit up his face, “Of course.”

I looked up at him with hopeful eyes, hoping to see something deeper than a friendship, but there was nothing. “Thanks, I’ll try to figure something out as soon as possible though. Maybe I’ll just get a job and save money for an apartment… I dunno.”

I could feel that mutual awkwardness begin to sink in again. I slowly began to realize that some guys are just too straight to get to. Maybe I was wrong… but I didn’t think so.