Jason
My back hurts from sleeping on this damn thing, and Gabe sits at the table, having himself a lovely morning.
“I bet it’s great having a real bed, huh?
” I arch my back, and the crack it makes is alarming.
“Did you hear that? That’s my life now.” I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes.
“It must have been freaking fantastic being able to actually shut a damn door and have some privacy, too,” I add. “What do I get? A couch.”
And if I don’t want the couch, my only other option is to sleep right next to you.
He’s not even looking at me. He sits there, slurping down his cereal, watching the beautiful dead landscape outside because this trailer park was probably built over a toxic chemical dump, and that’s why we’re all fucking lunatics!
Still nothing.
And now, I’m mad.
Why does he have to be in my face the second I wake up in the morning? I fucking told him to steer clear of me, and what does he do?
Chows down on some store-brand cereal right next to me, having himself a glorious morning while I’m over here reeling from the fact that I had to strangle my cock like it robbed me to stop myself from biting into that ass he keeps showing off…
Well, fuck that!
I stomp into the kitchen, look for a bowl, slam all the cabinets during my search, and pour myself some cereal.
My eyes are on Gabe the whole time. He’s pretending he doesn’t notice me, but I know him—I know how his body moves. His shoulders are tense, and his breathing is heavy.
He’s furious that I’m ruining his peaceful morning.
Good.
I take a seat at the tiny table right across from him and glare while I eat.
His jaw clenches, but he still won’t look at me, so I start eating with my mouth open, making sure he can hear my cereal mashing.
His eyes narrow.
Those pale cheeks turn red, and his hand shakes as he grips his spoon.
If he holds it any tighter, it’ll snap in half.
“Morning, sunshine. Enjoying breakfast?”
Wanna get in my face? Fine. I’ll get in yours, too.
He continues to eat, staring out the window and trying to ignore me.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
Not even a glance.
“I bet it’s really annoying. Having me here…eating. Ruining your perfect morning.”
I’m almost positive I can hear his teeth grinding.
“I’m having a lovely morning. Peachy-fucking-keen. Just…” I slurp down a big spoonful of cereal. “Lovely.”
His eyes finally land on me, and a spark of electricity shoots through me.
But then his eyes narrow, and a wicked smile appears just before he shoves a big spoonful of cereal into his mouth and chews.
Loudly.
Obscenely.
Mouth open, bits of food flying out and landing on the table.
Two can play that game.
I shovel cereal into my mouth, my teeth chomping and bits of soggy cereal falling down my chin. “Tastes good, huh?” I garble through a big mouthful.
He nods and scoops another spoonful into his mouth, glaring at me as he chows down.
Soon, it becomes a contest. The two of us compete to see who can be the most disgusting.
Hold my beer, asshole.
I drop the spoon, scoop cereal with my hand, and slosh it into my mouth, moaning and licking my fingers while I savor this generic, boring-ass cereal. “So, damn goooooooooood.”
Then, Gabe does the unthinkable. He reaches across the table, grabs a fistful of MY CEREAL, and stuffs his face.
“Hey,” I scream at him.
He shoves the fistful in his mouth, then picks up his bowl and literally dumps the rest into his mouth, with most of it spilling out the sides and down his neck.
“Oh, you think you’re a smartshit, huh? Well, watch this.”
I stomp into the kitchen and grab the milk and cereal. “Looks like you finished all of yours. Here!”
I grab a handful of cereal from the box and throw it at him before drenching him with milk.
Gabe literally steps onto the table and battles me for the milk.
“No! Mine,” I bark in the tussle.
He manages to rip it from my hand and shakes it over me.
Milk goes everywhere: on the walls, the ceiling, the seats, everywhere.
Including me. I’m covered.
“That does it!”
I grab a fistful of cereal and rub it in his face, but then he grabs my hair, pulls me down to the table, and starts using it to wipe down the table.
“Get off me,” I scream.
I twist his wrist to free myself and start chucking soggy cereal at him.
Soon, we’re both flinging gloopy cereal at each other—a full-on food fight.
I slap him with a handful of the mash right in the face, but then he chucks a fistful, sending it sailing and smacking me in my neck with a squish.
Squish.
Squash.
Plop.
That’s all I can hear through our grunting.
It’s World War III and the weapon of choice is store-brand Wheaties.
Right when I’m about to hold him down and dump cereal in his mouth, the screech of the front door grabs our attention, and Linda walks in. “Boys, I just wanted—OH MY GOD! What the hell happened?”
I look at Gabe.
He looks at me.
My eyes trail to the floor, covered in cereal and milk.
Gabe’s wet.
I’m wet.
We look like deer in headlights.
“Um…I spilled my cereal,” I explain.
And as soon as the words leave my mouth, milk drips from the ceiling, landing on the floor right in front of me.
“You spilled your cereal?” Linda’s voice is deafening in the tiny trailer.
“Yeah...”
She looks at Gabe.
Then me.
Then at the mess.
And her head falls into her hands.
“Boys, why?” she asks.
Because we’re idiots.
That's the only answer, but instead, we just look at the floor like we’re twelve.
Linda takes a deep breath. “If you don’t clean this up soon, the milk will spoil and stink up the whole trailer. So clean it up!”
I swear, even though she’s in the trailer, her voice made a wolf howl in the distance.
“Okay,” I reply.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You two need to figure this out. You need to get past your bullshit and figure out how to be friends again. Got it?”
Gabe and I slowly turn our heads to look at each other.
There’s cereal caked to his face.
Milk drips from his hair.
I try to stop it—I bite my lip, trying my damnedest to stop it, but I can’t.
I start laughing.
“It’s not funny,” Linda bellows.
But then Gabe starts snickering. Gabe. The guy who refuses to speak!
And soon we’ve both got our hands over our mouths, doing everything we can not to bust a gut in front of Linda.
“Jesus Christ,” she sighs. “Well, since you’re having such a blast, I want to try having another family dinner tonight. No fighting! Not with food, not with fists, nothing. Got it?”
Gabe and I look at each other, finally starting to calm down.
“Okay,” I reply.
“Good.” Linda slowly turns, but before she exits, she turns around once more. “We’re a family now. I want family dinners to be a regular thing. By hell or high water, we’re going to be a family.” She exits the trailer.
I stare at Gabe again, and my chest squeezes like it used to—before everything happened.
His eyes soften, like he wants this moment between us to last.
And part of me wants it to as well until the memories come back.
The hurt.
The betrayal.
To hell with that.
“Have fun cleaning, weirdo.”
I run into the bathroom and lock the door.
A few seconds later, he’s banging on it, and I scream, “Make sure to get all of the milk off the ceiling, too,” and then I turn on the shower.