Steam Punk Goggles and Ink Stained Hands

DREW’S POV

~

I knocked on the door of what I presumed to be Barrone’s house. He’d texted me the address about an hour ago, but my directional skills were never excellent and for all I knew I could have been on the wrong side of town. I wondered for a minute whether I’d managed to get it right or not until the door swung open and I came face to face with Barrone. He was dressed in black skinny jeans and a white long sleeved shirt; it was weird to see him in anything other than school uniform, but I really had no qualms in seeing him in tight jeans. I would have leant forward and kissed him right then, but I’d remembered half way here that we had to look like just friends. So I held the urge to display affection publicly back and just smiled at him.

“Hey, Barrone!” I greeted, trying to decide whether a hug would be appropriate or not. The decision wasn’t mine to make though, as Barrone just gave me a wide smile before darting up the stairs behind him and calling over his shoulder for me to follow him.

I would have immediately, had a woman not emerged from a door on the left side of the hallway. Barrone stopped halfway up the stairs before turning back around and slowly walking down the stairs again, a look of worry on his face. I’d assumed he was just worried that the woman – most probably his mother - had made the connection and had realised we were together, even though I’d only just come in.

“Who’s this, Shane?” She asked, studying me with a slightly dazed expression.

“Mum, this is Drew; I told you he was coming over earlier?” Barrone explained, gesturing weakly to me.

“You did, oh.” She said, swaying slightly on her feet. It was then I realised that she seemed drunk, and most probably was based on the way she was swaying even though it was only four thirty in the afternoon.

“So, we’re um, going to go upstairs and watch some TV” Barrone said a little awkwardly, edging away from his mother a bit. I could understand, I disliked being around people who were intoxicated, especially if they were my family. It’s not a particularly nice thing to be around people you care about when they aren’t in complete control of themselves.

“Yeah, sure, whatever” With that, she stumbled off into the room she came out from, the noise from the TV seeping through the door as she opened it before quietening again when she shut it behind her.

That was the parent meeting? She isn’t going to talk to me or anything? Okay then…

I looked over at Barrone to find him almost glaring at the door his mum had just gone through; this I could also understand, if that was me, I’d be annoyed that my mother didn’t even bother to stay sober to meet her son’s boyfriend!

Oh, wait, she doesn’t know we’re together… Still though…

“Um, so my room’s up here” Barrone said, slapping on a smile that wasn’t as bright as before.

He led me up the stairs before pushing open a door on the far left, revealing a room with a single bed, a chest of draws, a desk and walls covered in posters. A couple of notebooks were strewn across the desk along with a pair of goggles I’d remembered seeing him with about a week ago. On top of the notebooks were a few pens, one of which looked like it had exploded over a notebook and most probably Barrone.
I glanced over to him, chuckling lightly when I saw that one of his hands was indeed stained blue with ink.

“What?” he asked self-consciously, obviously hearing my quiet laughter.

“Sorry, you’re just, yeah”.

Drew Woolnough, ladies and gentlemen, the best man at explaining, ever!

He just shook his head and patted the spot on the bed next to him, which I quickly occupied. He’d shut the door to his room once we were inside, so I slipped my hand into his, content that his drunken mother wouldn’t be able to see us unless she learnt how to see through wood or came up the stairs and into the room, and quite frankly – let’s be honest – if she’d tried to come upstairs we would have heard her stumbling.

We talked in peace for a while with no interruptions, our hands still entwined between us. Over time, we’d shifted so we were lying side by side on the bed, resting on a pillow each. After approximately an hour, we decided we were thirsty and Barrone went downstairs to get us some drinks. Originally, I was just going to wait up in his room for him, but then I decided I should help him carry them, even if they were light. It was the polite thing to do.

I made my way down the hallway - silently thankful that their house had a pretty simple layout and that I didn’t get lost - and started to descend down the stairs, my hand on the bannister.

Then, out of seemingly nowhere, I heard a smack resonate through the house that made me grip the bannister tightly.

What the hell was that?

I scrambled down the rest of the stairs and headed towards the open door at the end of the downstairs hallway. Once again, I stopped in my tracks when I peered around the door.

In the middle of a kitchen area was Barrone, pressing a hand to his red cheek. Two glasses of water were discarded on the nearby counter, one only half full with water dribbling over the edge and pooled around it’s base. Standing next to him was his mother, her hand still raised in the air from where she’d hit him.

It was her! All along it’s been her! How could I not have realised that! Oh my God!

I didn’t know what to do, should I have run or stormed in there and confronted her?

In the end though, I didn’t have to make the decision, as while I was standing there contemplating, she’d turned around and seen me.

Fuck.