“Ian, stop playing around.” said a young woman glancing at the back seat from the front mirror.
“But I don’t want to get a haircut!” A five-year-old Ian screeched while once again attempting to get out of his car seat. His small, pudgy hands were having difficulties with the system of belts and plastic.
“Honey, you need a haircut. You can barely see! Now stop playing with your seatbelt before I stop the car.”
His mother gave him a warning glare before turning her attention back to the road. Ian simply shook his honey-colored hair out of his eyes and stuck out his tongue.
“I can see fine!” he replied indignantly while still trying to get out of his car seat.
“Ian, I said stop it!” His mother snapped and turned around to face her son.
“But mama!”
“But nothing! I told you to---”
His mother didn’t get in another word.
Tires squealed from the other side of their car and Ian’s vision briefly went blank.
His eyesight focused and he saw his mother’s body snap violently forward with a sickening crack. Sharp metal had crunched to the side of him, but all he could think about was his mother’s still body hunched over an armrest, her now dull brown eyes staring at him.
Ian didn’t like this one bit. It was like his mom just fell asleep and wouldn’t wake up despite everything that was going on.
He reached for the car seat seatbelt and a searing pain shot through his arm. Tears began to form in his eyes.
“Mama! My arm hurts wakeup! Mama!”
There was no answer and Ian’s pain seemed to melt into worry, then fear.
“Mama! Please wakeup! I’ll get my haircut, promise! Just please wakeup!”
But Ian’s mom didn’t.
So Ian did the only thing he could do; scream hysterically.
And scream.
And scream.
"Yo, Ian! Wakeup!"
///
I open my eyes and I find myself face-to-face with a certain bleach-blonde hair, tanned skin, jock. He has an amused look on his face and I realize that there are tears comming down my face.
"Aww, poor baby. Did you have a bad dream?" he says in a mockingly sweet voice. I have never wanted to punch the expression off his face as much as I did now.
"Shut up." I say, wiping the tears from my eyes.
This is typical behavior of Liam. He's the jock that everybody loves and I'm the geek he loves to pick on. The one, of course no one ever comes to the rescue for. He's an over-sized, over-testosterone jerk who needs a lesson in manners.
. . . He was still kind of hot.
"Dude, you should have heard yourself! ‘Mama!' 'Mama'! It was priceless!"
He's actually laughing at me!
I grit my teeth out of annoyance and try again. "Leave. Me. Alone, Liam." I say, praying to God he actually listens. I really don't want to start a fight at 2:00 am.
Unfortunately, neither God nor he wants to listen to me tonight.
"Are you sure you don't want Mama to change your diaper?" He says and reaches for my boxers, I slap his hand away.
"Stop it, pervert."
He gives me a sick grin and says, "I'd bet you'd like that, wouldn't you? f**."
Ow, that actually hurt a little. And maybe I would like it, but that’s aside from the point.
"As if I'd want a dumbass like you."
Notice how I avoid the question.
He pushes me and snarls out, "At least I don't wake up in the middle of the night crying for my mom. ******** p***y."
My fist clenches and my knuckles turn white. I'm using every fiber in my being to not punch or attack him.
"You know what, Liam? Just shut up now. Because you have no clue as to what the ******** you're talking about." I stand up and try to take deep breaths to control my rage. Seriously, where does he get off being such an a**?
He stands up with me and just rolls his eyes. "Ian, dude, relax. I was just joking. I swear, you're such a dork."
"Just joking?" I shriek, finally snapped. "You think it’s funny to make fun of someone's nightmare!?"
Then I do the unthinkable. I swing around and my fist connects with his chest. He looses balance slightly from what I presume is shock and I swing again, but he catches my wrist.
"You want to know what my nightmare was so badly?" My voice is choked from what I realize are tears beginning to fall. "It was when my mom died, okay!? It was when my mom died right in front of me!"
I can't tell what his expression is, but he lets go of my wrists. I hit him again, and again, until my fists just slide pathetically down his chest.
His arms close around me in a hug I never thought possible.
"I'm sorry . . ." he whispers. I don't know if he's being sincere or not, but it’s a nice notion.
"It’s okay." I say between the hiccups from tears.
We stay like that for a long time. His hand, massaging my back trying to quiet my sobs. He doesn't say anything either. No wise cracks about me being gay, or how I can't punch. But he just continues hugging me.
Then I realize something; no one had ever hugged me that way before. I had always been cast aside as the emo kid that no one paid attention to. But Liam was actually giving me a shoulder to cry on. The warmth of his hands on my back and his arms around me feels really nice.
Without really noticing, I snuggle closer, now able to hear his heart beat. The tears have stopped, but for some reason, I don't want to let go.
He stops massaging and I feel he hear beat quicken. I look up and . . . he's blushing?
"I really am sorry, Ian." He mumbles.
"Really, it’s okay. I---"
Lips are pressed against mine, cutting me off.
I think I might have fainted.
I never thought his lips would be so soft in a kiss so gentle. Liam's tongue slides over my lips, and I open my mouth, allowing his tongue to flicker inside. His hands slide down my back and place themselves on my a**. One hand squeezes while the other one tugs at my boxer shorts.
A thought goes off in my head. What if this was just a ploy for sex? What if he didn't care about me? After all, people don't just change that quickly.
Fear starts to explode in my brain. Oh, God. What if this was just a chance for Liam to get laid? It wouldn't matter to him, for all I know when I wake up the next morning he'll deny everything and call me a f** for dreaming about him.
Liam pulls down my boxers slightly and I push him away.
"Dude, what's your problem!?"
"My problem is you! If you think I'll have sex with you just like that, then you don't know me at all!"
I lie back in bed and roll over to avoid looking at him. What if I was wrong? What if he does like me?
Oh, God. I think I like
him . . .
But I can't take that chance, it'd be much better to not start anything, right?
"I know you well enough to love you." He whispers before turning off the light and going to bed himself.
Dear, God. I think I just made the worst mistake of my life.
~Owari.
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