The Deep End

The journey home was a close one, Alan had made it up to his room around twenty minutes before his mum's alarm clock's shrill ring woke her up (and also everyone else in the hose in the process.) He had managed to get a few hours of sleep at Austin's, but he still felt like shit.

His mum always sets her alarm clock for like the godforsaken hours of the morning, at maybe 6:00 am or something? Alan decided that he could totally take an half an hour power nap. He settled down on his bed, half clothed from where he had only managed to take off his shirt before his mind fell into unconsciousness.

The next thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a detail of his mum's face. He raises one hand to lean on his chest, panting from the near heart-attack; his mum still beams at him like he didn't almost just piss himself from fright. She has this terrifying tendency of not understanding personal space when it comes to waking people up.

"Alan, honey, it's time to get up."

He groans in recognition of that fact, and some mysterious energy from within enable him to get out of bed and go downstairs.

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The rest of the day is a blur; the whole 'handjobs' thing not really solidifying enough in his mind just yet, so he has acted pretty normal the whole day. Maybe kind of twitchy, but nothing too bad, Alan blames it on the cold. The whole way through school it was so cold it was like the school were planning to morph them all into human icecubes.

Alan silently thanks God that the hickeys that lay a mix of red and purple on his neck are somewhat small and lightly coloured, as well as being located on the crease of his neck and jaw; they were so awkwardly placed that no one noticed and it was a godsend. It is in his last period that the realism of the whole situation kind of unfolds in his mind and for a few minutes he is too in awe to think of anything but that.

Awesome, he got the d.

Not so awesome, he is so tired he is surprised people haven't started trying to decapitate him yet claiming it is the start of the Zombie apocalypse.

It was still totally worth it though.

He isn't sure whether he is meant to fill bad at all, but he even if Society deemed it that he should, he still wouldn't. Sure, Austin is more than a few years older than him, but age doesn't really determine exact mental maturity so he figures that if anyone knew it could pass, as long as they weren't from his hometown anyway.

The bell rung and he left school. Finally.

He daydreams to pass the time, pondering whether he should try and be nicer to his mother considering he has succumbed to the sin of the devil or whatever she blabs on about when they pass a same sex couple. He likes guys, so what? At least he isn't a terrorist, or gets drunk every weekend and has about ten unborn children. Idly caught up in his mesh of thoughts, he makes it home twenty minutes later than usual.

He isn't really fussed about it either.

His mother is home and apparently she is the only person who cares when Alan is twenty minutes late, like what could a kid like Alan do in that time? Well have a hella great, gay orgasm with another guy probably, but that isn't really the sort of thing that crosses an oblivious mother's mind very often.

He doesn't make it quick enough to the stairs, his escape rout blocked by his mum imitating a barrier, hands outstr etched and all. Alan didn't have to hear the words exactly to know they would be spewing to out of her mouth.

"Alan, where have you been?" Despite he demanding tone, there is a hint or concern whoch softens her expression from 'going to flip major shit' to 'might flip minor shit'.

Depending on his answer that is.

"Sorry, I just walked home a bit slower today, that's all." His languid smile is too obvious, and she doesn't buy it entirely; which is strange because he is telling the utter truth for once. Her eyes narrow but she doesn't comment, she just pecks his forehead and tells him to do his homework before trotting off to the kitchen. Alan makes a mental note to act extra heterosexual and normal until her suspicions wither.

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The Ashby family are all sat at the table for dinner he next Sunday. Alan's aunt and uncle are visiting and Alan is finding it difficult to even stay within the realms of consciousness in their presence. They are just blabbing on about church and his cousin's best friend refusing to go to church and just everything that involves church or jesus in some aspect.

Alan's busy twiddling his thumbs and mashing his spaghetti about on his plate; nobody cares including him.

Then his parents start talking shit on Austin.

"Mind you, most of those types of people don't go to church nowadays, like that boy that lives next to us." His mum throws in.

It wasnt obvious shittalking but it was enough to grab Alan's attention. He and his Dad exchange uncomfortable glances of varying degrees. Alan's hand twitches as he tries to refrain from defending him.

"Oh yes, I remember you mentioning him before. Tattoos, piercings, awful music. He's one to watch out for, they seem nice on the outside but their intentions are always repulsive."

Alan's hand twitches more noticeably; he notices his Dad sending him a pleading look. He gulps and shifts.

His mum replies: "I quite agree with you." She blushes quietly at the thought that he had once had contact with Alan. Not anymore, thankfully. She hoped it wasn't enough to make an impact on Alan. "You never know what they are really like."

Alan's aunt approved of this response, politely demandindemanding more information about this 'boy' living next door.

Alan's anger rose, his breathing sharp. It didn't only hurt him that people were talking about Austin like that, it frustrated him to no end. He just pictured Austin's goofy, beaming grin in his mind and laughed to himself. The face of devil worship, yeah right.

"Stop it." Alan demanded.

Silence.

"Alan, I know you may have felt like you had a friendship with him at one point, but he was j-"

"Stop it." He repeated.

His aunt's nostrils flared suddenly at his defiance, half shouting at him:

"How dare you spea-"

"Don't." He seethed. His chair scraped back against the wooden floor, he got swiftly and went to his room.

Alan's dad could see him wipe the corner of his eye as he made his way up the stairs.