Chapter 25
Kyle
Iplace the last remaining items into my backpack, having already spent the last few hours hauling boxes back to my family home.
But it’s for the best.
Sitting down on the double bed, I wait for Bren.
Tiffany is visiting her mother with Ethan, so we’ll be alone.
These fucking meds make my mind feel sluggish and heavy, as if the world is out of focus, time passing in slow-motion.
I can’t really feel anything. No anger, no sadness, no joy or excitement.
Just numb. I wonder if I will dissolve and scatter away on the wind.
Bren says I’ll get used to it and things will be better, but if this is what it’s going to be like from now on, what’s the fucking point of anything?
But if there’s one thing I hate more than my meds, it’s what I did to Bren.
That’s why this is the right choice. Let Bren live his life without the burden of me, without my betrayals and my chaos.
When I think about it, I’ve always made Bren’s life worse.
Perhaps if I never existed, he could’ve found a way to be happy with Tiffany.
Live a normal, straight life with a decent job and a family.
Bruce might’ve treated him like a real son. Bren might’ve been happy.
Things had been good for a while—the three of us living here with baby Ethan.
Being gay, I didn’t think there was any chance of being a dad or having a family, so this was as close as I’ll probably ever get.
Tiff had been great too, letting me care for Ethan, babysitting, feeding him his bottle, and rocking him to sleep when he wouldn’t stop crying.
I love Ethan so damn much and I’ll miss seeing him grow up.
My gaze shifts around the room—our room—memories materialising before my eyes…
Bren is smiling, and I am too. Laughing, talking, fucking.
Why did it have to happen? We were finally happy and free.
Sharing a bed with Bren every night was a dream come true.
I don’t think I could love anyone more than I love Bren.
I huff, my eyes settling on the photograph of us that sits on the bedside table.
But of course, something had to go wrong, didn’t it? There are never any happy endings for boys like me and Bren. Deadbeat kids from fucked up homes.
In the hospital they tried to explain it to me, but all I know is that it felt like something broke inside my head, and I went fucking crazy for a while.
Manic, they called it. And a psychotic break, as well.
Diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. Meds for the rest of my fucking life.
You’ll need to manage your depressive and manic phases carefully, the doctor had said, with fake fucking sympathy on his face.
I’m nineteen years old and what do I have to look forward to now?
I don’t remember how many guys I fucked while I was manic, let alone their names. Don’t think I used condoms either. Spent all our savings, too. Took out credit cards and ran up a shit load of debt. Went missing for a week and didn’t call Bren. He thought I was fucking dead in a ditch.
Shame eats at my insides.
The front door opens and closes. “Ky, you home?” Bren calls out. “How are you feelin’?”
I stand and wait for him to appear in the bedroom doorway.
“Hey,” he says, his face immediately concerned when he sets his eyes on me. “You okay? Did you take your meds?”
“Yeah. We need to talk.”
Bren frowns as he scans the bedroom. “What the fuck’s going on, Ky? Where’s your stuff?”
I lower my chin and stare at the floor, focusing on the dirty carpet stain. “I’m gonna move back home. I need to get my shit together.”
Bren shuffles uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “You can do that here, with me.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I say, raising my eyes back to his.
I need to be brave and get this done. “This is over. Us, we’re over.
I caused so much shit for you and Tiff to deal with, and you have Ethan to think about.
I cheated on you and I don’t trust myself not to hurt you like that again.
” I look away, but not before I watch Bren’s face turn white.
The guilt is unbearable, and I feel like the worst fucking person on the planet, but I know this is the right thing, the kindest thing, I can do for him.
“But you’re on your meds now. It’ll be fine. I can forgive you. I have forgiven you.” His voice sounds panicked and fragile, but I can’t bring myself to truly care.
I shake my head. “You haven’t. I see it in your eyes when we fuck.
I see the way you look at me with pity and I hate how you have to keep an eye on me like I’m a child.
It’s better this way.” I look back at him but focus on his cheek.
“Make a go of it with Tiff or find some other boy. Someone who deserves you.”
Bren steps up to me and cups my face with his hands, forcing me to look at him. Tears fall down his perfect face. “But I love you,” he says.
I’ve waited so long to hear those three words, but it’s too late now. I wish I could say them back, but I can’t, because, if I do, I’ll never walk out the door.
A tear of my own spills over, taking me by surprise. “Bren, I ruined your life just by being in it. Take care of yourself.”
I press my mouth to his, hard, tasting the salt of our tears and trying to catalogue the kiss to memory. Then I pick up my backpack and walk out of our bedroom and out of the house, ignoring every single one of Bren’s desperate pleas.