Damien
I’ve never had the actual impulse to want to kill someone as much as I do Nathan. That fucking shithead had Caleb living in fear for years. Not knowing if he was going to see the next day.
I. Wanted. Him. Gone.
Not just for my satisfaction, but for Caleb’s sake, and safety. I wanted him to know that he won’t have to worry about him ever again.
“Enough about me. What about you Damien. If I have to be vulnerable, so do you.” Caleb used the base of his palm to wipe the last bit of his tears, letting go of my hands in the process.
“It’s no where near as bad as yours, so I don’t feel as it’s that important.” I hesitatantly say. They probably don’t want to hear my problems, after Caleb’s my problem just seem stupid.
“Yea, you’re right.” Milo states.
I look away embarrassed. I should have known that my problems are stupid. My maybe mom was right to ignore how I felt, does it even matter-
“Is that what you wanted me to say?” He questions rhetorically, “I said I wanted to hear both of your troubles. Holding stuff in only makes a persons mental health worse.”
“Now start talking, I want to know what’s being going on with you.” Caleb gently grabs my hands with a light smile, his eyes were still puffy and cheeks were still red from his crying from moments prior.
“Well, it’s my parents. Everything that I do, is an achievement for them to flex to my relatives. And not in a way were they brag about me, they always make it about them and make it seem like I’m just some worth person without him. They can’t compliment me without saying that it was because of them. Yesterday my dad was saying how I was varsity and captain of the football team when I was in highschool, but say that I wouldn’t have been able to do anything if it weren’t for him. They constantly make my achievements about them and manage to make me feel like shit.
Not to mention, neither of them could care less about how I feel. Especially my mom. She put so much pressure on me, she want me to have straight A’s, and be perfect and shit. When I confront her about putting too much pressure on me she just makes herself the victim. Like always. Whenever she does something wrong and I tell her, she plays victim. And it’s pisses me off so much. Everything is about her and her feelings, and she never cares about how I feel.
I told her just how I was feeling, and she once again played victim, she probably didn’t even bother to fully listen. Now I’m wondering if my feelings even matter to anyone? Are my feelings futile? I would expect my parents to care, but no, not even a little.”
“If it makes you feel any better, your feelings and opinions matter to us, if not anyone else.” Caleb holds my hands tighter, his faint smile with eyes mixed with distress and reassurance.
“Agree. Your feelings are just as important as Caleb’s, Mine, whoever’s. No offense, but fuck your parents for not caring.” Milo assures as his face grows a content smile.
“Thanks.”
“We’re being serious Damien.” Caleb’s voice sinks with sternness.
“I know, and thanks.” I laugh a bit at his persistence.
“Y’know what, since you didn’t have anyone with you yesterday for thanksgiving, we’ll have dinner and watch TV to make up for it.” Caleb stands straight up in one quick movement.
“You mean breakfast dingus? It’s -” Milo pulls out his phone, “10:58 in the morning.”
“Potatoe, tomatoe.”
“That isn’t even how the say goes.” Milo retorts as he stands with an eye roll. I stand up as well with a smile.
“How about I help? Like old times?” I raise a brow. And they both virgously drag me to the kitchen and we begin to make breakfast together.
“So I was thinking we make waffles, eggs, grits, and sausage.” Caleb suggests and we agree and immediately decided to get started, so we’d be able to chill by 12.
I decided to make the grits and sausage, since I was the one who could cook better than both of them, and mas majoring in culinary. In reality I just wanted to be lazy, while it looked like I was doing more. Milo was making the eggs and Caleb was making the waffles.
I was a bit concerned that the guy who had no cooking experience was making waffles, but I didn’t say anything, hoping that he wouldn’t make too much of a messy.
“How do you guys like you eggs, I like mine scrambled.” Milo said as began to crack open the egg.
“Scrambled.”
“Same.”
He cracked the egg into the bowl and began to stir it around before going to the fridge, grabbing some butter and putting it in the bowl, then pouring the eggs he just scrambled onto the pan.
“So, why did you start cooking anyway?” I asked Milo and he just shrugged.
“Eh? Because of you I think.” He said as he watched the egg on the pan sizzle.
“Really?”
“Yea, I figured I needed to learn how to cook, and I remembered how good your food tasted and I wanted to make it taste like yours. So I taught myself, with a little help from my mom and YouTube.”
“You thought my food tasted good?” I smirk and he avoid eyes contact with an eyes roll.
“Shut up.”
Eventually Me and Milo finished with our parts, everything was platted, we were just waiting for last few waffles before we could go sit.
Caleb slowly opened the waffles maker and he once again made the waffles great surprisingly. He happily took them out and put them on his plate before unplugging the waffle maker.
We make our way to the living room with our plate of food, and milk. Me and Caleb had chocolate milk, Milo has strawberry milk and we all sat on the long sofa. I sat in the middle, while the other two sat on the end.
We picked bettlejuice as the movie to watch together. But by the end both of them were knocked out sleep. Milo’s head rested on my shoulder while Caleb head laid on the arm of the sofa, and his legs draped across me and Milo.
I smile at the two sleep men on either side of me. I’m glad I did stay, I’m so glad I’m came back home so I could share this moment with them. So I could share the moments we just had in the kitchen with them.
I pressure a kiss on both of their heads.
“Thank you-” I whisper with a smile before planting another kiss on the corner of their lips, “for making me feel special and-” I pause before gently placing soft kisses on their lips. “-making me fall in love with you, again”
Comment