"Hey, Sawyer." Mom called to me as I entered the house, a curious expression adorning her face. Her hair was tied neatly back in a black bun, lazily dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

I forced a small smile to decorate mine in return. "Hey."

"You called, but you didn't say where you were." She said, trying to avoid having to directly ask me. Why was it that parents always felt the need to do that?

We had an unspoken rule in my house that you had to call, but that was about it. If I wasn't home when they were, I needed to let them know when I would be joining them and that I was still alive.

I called while I was still at Sam's - before it all went to hell - to let them know that I would be a little late.

Once I was inside, I was a bit taken aback by the sight of my mom in front of the television. I honestly didn't think that dad was capable of not watching football for more than eight seconds. He didn't care whether they were reruns or not. It was an unhealthy obsession, one that bled into my relentless need to avoid sports at all cost.

I shrugged, plopping down beside her, knowing that she wanted to have a conversation. I didn't want to talk, because I was still utterly hung up on what had happened. But I also didn't want to seem too suspicious.

A sudden expression grew on her face, one that was successfully freaking me out. It reflected knowing and motherly teasing. "Nowhere important, I assume."

I nodded, noticing that she was watching One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest. I always loved that movie. I ran a hand through my messy hair, leaning back against the not-nearly-as-nice-as-Sam's couch cushions. What a life it must have been, being rich.

"Are you sure that there is nothing?" She asked again, effectively confusing me. Did she know something that I didn't? Mom and I were never very close, but she was still my mom after all. I loved her with all of my heart.

But what did she know?

"What are you hinting at?" I asked, trying to figure out why she was being so suspicious.

"Oh, nothing." She hummed, gazing at the TV listlessly. "It's just that you've been kissing someone."

My eyes bulged out of my skull. She knew! She knew! Jump the ship! I would rather take my chances with the sharks!

Mom instantly picked up on my reaction, her eyes studying me like a hawk as her lips quirked up.

"H-how...?" I trailed off, praying that she hadn't seen me. Sam and I practically made out in the driveway before I came inside. Was she looking out of the window when it happened? What did she know?

For a split second, I considered crying or screaming.

Or both.

"Calm down, Sawyer." She finally laughed, only confusing me further. "Your lips are swollen, that's all. And you've got this starstruck look in your eyes, it's sweet."

A tsunami of relief washed over me. It was still bad because she knew that I had been kissing someone, but anything was better than being outed. My mind danced around the starstruck part, pondering what that actually entailed.

"Oh." I breathed, trying to collect the fragments of my mind into some semblance of logic.

"Why did you look like you killed someone?" Mom raised a manicured brow.

I shrugged, pretending as though it never happened. I didn't know what I expected to happen. It wasn't like she was going to let it slide so soon.

"Hey." Hey she murmured to get my attention again. "You can always talk to me, I am your mom after all. Was it with Millie?"

I almost choked on my own soul, shooting my gaze towards her in disgust. Millie was pretty, but I think the universe itself had figured out by then that my type consisted of something very different.

Some examples of that were blonde, taller than me, could be a major asshole, was rich, and had hazel eyes.

And there was also the other unimportant factor.

A boy.

"What?" She asked, holding up her hands. "Millie's beautiful, smart, with a good sense of humor-" and a girl, I thought to myself "-what's not to like?"

I looked away, unable to handle her prying eyes any longer. I wasn't going to suddenly tell her why I could never like Millie that way. For two reasons - one, Sam and I agreed that absolutely no one could know for at least two more weeks, and two, who's to say that Sam and I would even last much longer? We might end up having a falling out and dissociating. He might even have been the one and only boy I would ever like, so who was to say that I was even gay?

It was all so fucking confusing.

You know what wasn't nearly as confusing? Bashing my head into a wall.

"She's like my sister." I decided to say instead.

Mom seemed content with that answer, but kept going anyway. "Okay, then who was it that you were kissing?"

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to come up with a good excuse. I already screwed myself over, and there was no coming back from that. Hopefully I wouldn't fuck things up further.

"Why does it matter?" I said, taking the angsty teenager route. I didn't like giving my parents a whole lot of lip, but there was no other option that my brain could think of fast enough.

A confused look stumbled onto her face. "Sawyer?"

She knew that there was something more going on, and it only pissed me off more.

In the car ride back to my house, Sam and I fought a bit. I told him that we had to figure out a way to fix this, and he grew more furious. I only said it because I didn't want to see him like that anymore, but I only ended up making it worse. When he pulled into the driveway, I opened my mouth to apologize, but he was already kissing me before I could even talk. It wasn't the longest kiss we ever exchanged, but it wasn't short. No wonder mom could see my swollen lips.

We didn't talk after, I decided that it would be best to leave then before we could ruin the moment. So I did, which I almost wished that hadn't. I wished that I had stayed and kissed him more, I wished that I could have been held for longer, I wished that we could have properly made up.

Mom was now watching me intently. I knew that she somehow felt the severity of it all, even if she didn't know the exacts. Her eyes held concern, and her soft posture held comfort.

I almost let a few tears slip.

I wanted to cry so badly. I wanted to cry for Sam and his situation, I wanted to cry for nearly having died only days before, I wanted to cry for Dennis, Brian, and Caden for having to be involved, but most of all, I wanted to cry for myself. For the worry that I was choking in over too many things at once.

But I held it in.

"I just..." I tried to think of something good to say, some sort of passable excuse, but I couldn't. "I just don't really want to talk about it."

Mom nodded softly, sliding closer to me and patting me lightly on the back. She didn't hold me, because she knew that I didn't like being held. If only she knew the half of it.

I loved her, but it was not her that I wanted.

I just wanted Sam.

"Sawyer Jay." She whispered reassuringly, her skin so warm against the back of my neck. "You know that I love you, right? I understand why it seems so impossible to talk to your parents. I never told my parents anything. But don't convince yourself that I'll never understand. That's how I was with my parents, and we both know how that went."

I nodded, knowing precisely what she meant. I hadn't seen Mom's parents in a long time. I barely even remembered them because they all had such a weak relationship. Mom always said that it had to do with how little they interacted with one another as she was growing up. Although, I didn't know if she just said that to make me want to talk to my own parents more. Either way, it was sad.

However, I never had a sentimental attachment to them anyways, so I didn't really feel like I was missing something.

Mom placed a light and brief kiss to my forehead. "There's food in the kitchen if you're hungry."

I shook my head, standing up from the couch. "I already ate, so I'm not hungry. I think I'll just head to bed early." I lied.

"Goodnight Sawyer." She smiled sweetly, and I wished her the same before climbing the wooden staircase.

They creaked and groaned beneath my weight, reminding me of screams. I wanted to scream too. Maybe we could become a chorus of pathetic screams all originating for the weight of someone else's life on our backs.

It seemed that I wanted to do a lot of things.

When I walked past my parents room, I could hear the heavy snores of my father. I wondered why he decided to hit the hay so early. Then again, that was what I was forcing myself to do as well. I was still just shocked that he wasn't glued to the television.

All I felt like doing was fading in and out of a dream state, because at least then I wouldn't be able to think about everything bad that was happening around me. There was something about earlier that seemed to screw me up.

It didn't make sense that I could get choked out and hardly bat a fucking eye, but a mostly successful money exchange that went shockingly smooth, made me want to have a breakdown.

I think it had to do with Sam's reaction, I thought as I closed my door and flopped onto the bed. He simply looked so defeated.

In my mind, he was always determined, always adamant that everything would go well if you just forced it to. Seeing that dark part of him take over must have broke me.

I just wanted to help.

After having lain in bed for what felt like years, I finally gathered enough brain matter to bother checking my phone.

When the screen lit up, I was met with Instagram, the picture of Millie staring back at me. It occurred to me that must not have exited out of the app. Her sad face was enough to have a pestering tear slip from my eyes.

I hated myself for being so weak, but I couldn't help it. Everything was bound to spill over eventually, and it was well on its way there.

I missed Millie.

Me:

Hey.

I hoped that she would answer soon, because I really needed her comedic relief. She deserved someone better than me as a best friend. It seemed that everything had progressively been getting less funny, and more serious. Which was my worst nightmare.

I didn't know how much more I can take.

Bitch Puddin':

Hey!!

A massive sigh of relief shook my system. I needed to talk to her, and I needed it right away. I didn't care that it was over text.

Me:

I miss you.

Bitch Puddin':

Oh god, holy fucking shit, I've missed you too!!😫😭

I chuckled a bit at her word choice, my heart swelling within my chest. If only that moment could last forever. When I began typing, I found myself feeling the overwhelming need to tell her everything. Or at least about me and Sam. Yet, I didn't, because I knew that I couldn't.

Besides, I felt like it was something that I should tell her in person, not over text. So I said something else.

Me:

I don't care what you talk about, just please send me anything and everything.

It seemed taht she took that as challenge, because she did exactly that.

We conversed late into the night about annoying parents or that stupid math assignment that was due tomorrow or which outfit complimented her the best in a no romantic way. She sent me deep-fried memes, and long videos of her ranting.

It felt so freeing.

If only it could last forever.

•O•O•