Page 37 of Sorry, We're Closed

He stands from the table, pulling me behind him and I can't help my eyes falling to his behind as those chocolate trousers hug him so well.

He takes me through a door, the same door he came out of the first time I saw him, a staff only sign hanging flimsily from a suction cup. He pulls a hidden cord which brings a dim light to what I assume is the staff and storage room, considering the banged-up shelves, sofa and fridge which has been shoved into the corner.

He drops my hand and turns to face me.

“Sawyer, care to explain?” I chuckle slightly because this boy can lead me anywhere and I'd still follow. It doesn’t matter as long as I’m with him.

“I'm sorry, I just feel safer telling you everything here.”

“I'm sorry… Safer? Sawyer, are you okay?”

Instincts that I didn't realise I have kick in, I bring myself inches away from Sawyer, both of his hands in mine, his scent of the sweetest vanilla radiating from him. He is intoxicating in the best possible way.

Seconds linger between us where the tension drags. This isn't one sided either. I feel Sawyer's eyes drifting between my eyes and my lips.

Just kiss me already.

Instead, he pulls me along and sits me down on the battered sofa, placing himself next to me with his legs tucked underneath him, a gap which feels like miles between us.

“Avory, please let me speak. Let me finish and let me explain everything. I haven't told anyone any of this since Gwen and her brother first found out, so I can't imagine how this is going to sound.”

Gwen must mean the world to him if he's told whatever I'm about to hear to her. Why is he going to tell me this then? I nod and my eyes lock onto Sawyer.

His lips move as he speaks, his hands pulling at threads on his khaki sweater, his nails digging at the skin on his hands. I listen to him as he tells me everything.

Thirteen fucking years old.

When I was thirteen, Marcus was introducing me to electric guitars after learning on acoustic for so long. To hear about everything since then, I have no words for what this boy has been through. I can’t move; I can’t bring myself to say anything because nothing I can say will bring the certainty and love that this boy so desperately craves and deserves.

Instead, my eyes meet Sawyer's which are sparkling but not like they usually do, instead they create pools which slowly drip down his cheeks, reflecting the one overhead light in the room.

“I know this does nothing for what you've been through, but I'm sorry, Sawyer.”

He responds with a sniffle as he continues to pull, tug, and rip the dangling strings of his jumper sleeve.

“I deserved this. I caused this by coming out, and ever since, whatever this is, has started, I have been followed by guilt and signs that I shouldn't be doing this.”

I swallow down the dread that starts to build in my throat. I’m not ready to say goodbye, to leave him here to continue a life being fuelled by fear and guilt of something which is not his fault.

My mouth finally forms the shapes needed to get some words out, but they aren't the words I expect.

“I'm not ready to say goodbye to you, Sawyer. I have never felt this way about anyone, and it scares that me that I am so attached already, but losing you scares me more.”

My eyes shudder between the floor and Sawyer's open mouth. The silence between us is killing me, and my foot begins to bounce rapidly. Did I just massively overstep some sort of boundary?

My hands rest on the waxy fabric of this navy sofa until a soft graze of Sawyer’s fingertips on my wrist moves my focus. His tips move up the back of my hand, before intertwining with mine, and we both face forward.

“Shit, Sawyer, I'm sorry, I know I'm not helping the situation, but you are an amazing, beautiful person. Inside and out, you have shown me nothing but your beautiful soul. And how both of your parents can disown you and throw someone so amazing to the curb, I will never understand.”

I exhale deeply, releasing the anger that is burning in my chest slightly, so my next words don't sound so harsh. His hand grips mine tighter than usual.

“They are both full of shit, and neither of them deserve you and everything you do.”

I bite my bottom lip and squeeze my eyes shut because I instantly regret saying it. Some things are meant to be said while others are meant to be kept in your mind.

“Thank you, that doesn’t feel natural to hear but thank you. I have spent years fighting these thoughts, fighting myself, fighting everything that they hate about me, but funnily enough that is also everything that makes me, me. Since you've been around, even with this guilt and these signs all screaming at me that this isn't going to work, you somehow silence them. You bring out this part of me that was silenced for so long and make him scream the loudest he can in an empty room.”

My chest rattles as I exhale again, I look to the ceiling because I’m not willing to cry in front of Sawyer just yet.

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