"I'm homiesexual. That means I fuck my friends platonically." Mateo and Kieran are best friends with benefits. It's not a big deal - until they start to catch feelings.
View MoreMATEOI quietly push open the door to Alex’s bedroom. It creaks open to reveal the owner in question sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in hand. He jumps away from the bed and marches across the room, standing in front of me with his arms crossed.“Where were you last night? I’ve been calling you for hours!” His concern is touching, though he hides it behind his frustration. I’m glad we’re at this stage now rather than the hell-like limbo we were in before – where he was obligated to hate me, and I was obligated to accept it. The past month had been lonely – only Lana had attempted to t
KIERANFor about two hours now, I’ve been sitting on Mateo’s front-step, waiting for his parents to come home. Every time I hear someone walk by, my head snaps up in a wide-eyed panic, before I remember that Mateo doesn’t live here anymore. That starts the whole cycle of misery again until I distract myself with some crappy ad-filled game.I go back and forth with that and with my conversation with Lucas on Instagram – he’s trying to organise details for this weekend, and I’m being spectacularly unhelpful. Not by choice, mind you, simply because someone else will walk by and my attention will be broken once more. I think we settle on a time, and I’m pretty sure he&r
KIERANThe week after, I feel hollow. All the emotions I’ve held onto for the past however many months have finally been released in one draining flood, and now all I can really feel is weariness. Mum offered to let me stay home this morning – I would’ve accepted, but she had work and May had school, and I’ve already missed most of last week. Besides, what I really need right now is a healthy dose of Lana, Alyssa, Alex and Rob to cheer me up. Mum drops me off early as usual, and I wander through the desolate school grounds. The depressing grey paths lead me away from the half-melted, half-muddied slush and into the slightly warmer but somehow quieter buildings. My limbs weigh me dow
KIERAN“Kiki!” Mateo shouts at me from across the cafeteria, making it impossible to avoid him. He’s at our usual table with the rest of our friends. Some part of me spurs me towards him before I stop in my tracks. It’s hard to see him from this distance, but he begins walking to me. As he approaches, his apologetic face becomes more evident, and I catch a flicker of hope flash across it. Lucas stands motionless beside me. We had just gotten out of the line, so we both held our trays, hovering. “Are we really going to sit with him?” Lucas murmurs, disdain plain in his voice. I glance sideways and see his eyes pinched in distrust, hatred simmering underneath.
MATEOI jolt awake, cold water dripping down my face. My head spins from moving too quickly, and when the black spots fade away, I squint against the harsh light to see Alex standing in front of me with an empty glass in hand. The pounding in my skull strengthens as he starts yelling at me.He’s too disgusted to look at me. He paces back in forth in front of his couch which I’m lying on, hands angrily gesticulating. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re a piece of shit, you know that? You promised me that you wouldn’t be a dick to Kieran, and here we fucking are! What happened to the whole last-person-in-the-world-to-have-a-problem-with-him bullshit? I can’t believe Kieran put up with you for thes
MATEOLucas’ high-pitched whine of a laugh bounces around the walls of Kieran’s room like a helium balloon. Kieran’s actually in the next room over, but it still manages to pierce through. I grab a pillow and chuck it over my face, squeezing it against my ears in an attempt to drown him out, but then Kieran starts giggling. His laugh is exactly that – a child’s giggle. It bubbles out of him, and you can’t help but smile too.I let the pillow fall to the side and let the sound wash over me. It’s rare, these days.I’m not nearly as blind, deaf nor as naïve as he thinks I am. I know that they’re talking about m
KIERANMateo has been staying with me for the past week.He hasn’t told me much about what happened that night – only snippets here and there. All I know for sure is that his parents found out about that he likes guys somehow. He didn’t take anything other than his phone with him, and he’s been living out of the drawer of clothes he keeps at mine. I’m not sure whether he was kicked out or if he ran away, but it’s evident that they didn’t react well. He’s not the same kind, gentle boy I knew. Something in him has broken.The first few nights, he was distant. He acted like I wasn’t there at all – as if he was
MATEOThe grandfather clock in the corner of our dining room ticks and tocks incessantly. I watch the rusted silver pendulum swing back and forth and focus on the way the cuckoo bird pops out to announce midnight, it’s mechanical whir filling up the entire room. As it pops back into the wooden structure, my dad ceases his angry pacing.He’s been wearing a path in our floor for the past ten minutes, silent ever since he came into my room. He had roused Kieran and me from our sleep and got Mum to drive him home without so much as a reason why. The two of us had exchanged a glance before he left – Kiki with one of confusion and concern, and me with a “don’t worry, I’ll tell you later,” sort of compromise.
KIERANWitnessing an awkward exchange is possibly the worst fate there is. I pick at the thread-bare cushions of Mateo’s couch as the birthday boy himself opens his front door. When he had gotten Lana’s text, he had grimaced and told me he wasn’t actually sure if she was coming until this moment. I’m a little surprised myself, but I guess it’d be worse if she didn’t show. The two of them have spent nearly every birthday together – I think the one exception was the time Mateo’s family visited Italy for all of December.I watch as Mateo steps aside to let Lana in, but the girl goes in for a hug. Mateo had lamented to me about th
MATEOAn incessant buzzing brings me from my sleep. I groan, throwing a hand over my eyes to block out the harsh sunlight as I blindly search for my phone somewhere within my sheets. Whoever’s calling me this early in the morning better have a good excuse, because my dream self was eating a massive New York-style pizza. Before you ask, I don’t know how early it is since I still haven’t found my phone, but if I’m feeling this awful and I can hear birds singing, then you know it’s too early.My phone falls silent, and I let myself believe that this means I can rest. Nope – not a second later and it starts up again. I finally pry open my eyes, squinting against the sunlight and trying to shake the
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