Losing Grip.

I pushed at my garden gate as I walked down the path to the front door. I took a last look up at the pale yellow orb peeping feebly from the clouds and shook my head at it. I knocked the door without taking my eyes off the so-called “sun.”

“Come on!” I protested, at it. “Surely you can do better than that!”

“Sean?” A bemused voice came from the doorway. “Are you talking to the sun?”

“Yeah,” I grinned, heading into the house, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “The sun is being a pathetic fu- er, a pathetic moron today.”

My mum shook her head at my almost swearing and picked my bag up from where I slung it down, hanging it up on a peg. I wandered into the kitchen and started aimlessly rifling through the cupboards for something to eat. Y’know. A snack or something.

“Oh, Sean,” Mum said as she walked into the kitchen behind me. “It’s not really healthy to snack like that.”

I shrugged and pulled out a packet of crisps. Mum smiled and shook her head at me a little.

“Did you have a good day?” She asked, pouring boiled water from the kettle into two mugs. I eyed them, curiously.

“Yeah, it was okay. Who’s that for?”
“Oh,” She smiled, her cheeks growing slightly pink, “Gary is coming round in a minute. You don’t mind, do you?” She questioned, pushing a teabag around.

“No. That’s fine.” I shrugged my shoulders inside my school uniform.

“Good,” she smiled. “How was your day?”

“Not too bad. Yours?”

“Oh, it was quite hectic. We had about three double bookings!”

“How can you have three double bookings?” I laughed.

“I don’t even know!” She replied, chortling.

A few moments later I heard Gary’s car pull up outside. I smiled at mum and made my escape upstairs.

Gary was mum’s new boyfriend. I wasn’t too sure what to think about him if I’m really honest. He seemed all right, but we had barely spoken to each other. I suppose if mum likes him, she should just get to have the freedom to be with him. She’s accepted me and the relationships I want to be in.

As I closed my bedroom door behind me I let my mind wander, as it so often did, to the above-mentioned relationship. Or rather, the other half in my relationship. The other half of me. It sounded ridiculously clichéd, and it was the sort of thing I tended to think but not say. Does that make any sense to you?

I smiled at the photograph on the wall as I sat down on the edge of my bed. It was a photo of my boyfriend and I. You know I said mum had been understanding with me about the relationships I wanted? I came out late last year, when we got together. It could all have ended up much worse than it did; luckily my mum wasn’t a homophobic type and neither were our friends.

Of course, I can’t really imagine anyone turning Ian down; sexuality disregarded. He’s… well, for want of a better word, perfect. You immediately notice the amazing body- he’s nice and slim, but with muscles too, though not too macho. He wears really alternative clothes compared with most of the people around here, but they look good on him. He’s got soft, dark hair that makes you want to run your hands through it, and a face I could stare at all day.

My itchy and scratchy ring tone interrupted my little daydream. It was probably a good thing to be honest, because I know I think about Ian far too much. It makes me sound like a sad little fan girl of some rockstar- though he isn’t actually a rock star; he’s a seventeen-year-old guy with a good haircut and a job in HMV. And I’m not a fan girl; I’m a gay boy with a bit of a girly hairstyle.

“Hello?” I said, as I pressed the green button on my phone.

“Hey,” came a familiar welsh voice, older than mine.

“Ian,” I smiled.

We had this kind of private joke. Whenever we spoke on the phone I’d say “Ian” then he’d say “Sean.” Yeah, it’s kind of dumb and I didn’t know where it even started, but I loved it. I loved saying his name. I loved hearing him say my name, like I was worth giving the time of day to.

He didn’t say my name that day. Instead, he came out all in a rush with:

“You’ll never believe what’s happened!”

I poked at my duvet.

“Er... You cheated on me with Margaret Thatcher,” I sniggered.

I could hear him laughing wildly on the other end. I wasn’t sure why. I knew my Thatcher joke wasn’t that funny.

“Oh, Sean,” He half yelled, half laughed. “I’ve had the best news!”

My stomach lurched. I had a feeling I knew what he was going to say next.

“What is it?” I asked.

“They accepted me!”

“Huh?”

“Manchester! Manchester Uni fucking accepted me!” He squeaked. Nice. Very manly. Squeaking was pretty much out of Ian’s character so I could tell that he was either very excited or very scared. My brain started to process what he had actually said, and I realised that he was probably…

“…Fucking excited!” I heard a maniacal laugh from his end. “I’m so excited, I’m going to Manchester University in September!”

And that was the sentence that marked the beginning of the end.