He woke up startled, unaware when he had fallen asleep, to begin with. There was hushed arguing coming from below him and he knew his parents were arguing again.
It was easier to count the times they didn’t fight these days. He turned over on his small, twin bed and faced the wall as the arguing grew louder. It always did.
He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to deal with such an environment. Every night, he tossed and turned in that small bed. The lime green walls seemed to close in on him. The smiling faces on the posters taunted him. The dark haired boy dreaded coming home and oftentimes, stayed after school to study. His grades had never been better.
He considered taking up some kind of drug habit, he’d figure it would be less tortuous than hearing a marriage fall apart for two years. His phone buzzed, lethargically, the boy reached over to the nightstand beside him.
“Where are you?” read the text. A smile edged onto his face as he read the name on his screen. He tapped out a quick reply, getting up from bed swiftly.
The boy grabbed clothes that smelled clean off the floor and threw them into his bag. He stuffed his pens and sketchbooks into the same bag and rushed down the stairs. The argument ceased. It was completely quiet now.
When his parents came into view, he gave them a small pitiful smile. Their faces were wrinkled in anger, upon looking at him, they softened.
“Isaac, where are you going?”, a concerned mother inquired. Irrational yet uncontrollable anger rose up in his chest. It was similar to the one he always felt when his parents said a word to him.
He was angry because they put him in the middle of their incessant yelling. They would broadcast their insecurities onto him. There were so many things he wanted to say.
Isaac said nothing.
He walked out of the house.
Down the street, he heard a car honk. Eagerly, he ran towards it and swung open the door.
“Took you long enough,” they said. “I was starting to believe that you weren’t going to come, loser.”
Isaac smiled, a smile that felt natural and wasn’t forced. Stepping into that car, inhaling the odd mixture of fragrances the car always seemed to have, was a relief. He exhaled a breath he did not know he was holding in.
Beside him, the freckled, pink-faced guy from English class, smiled also. It was the teasing, half smile that did him in about a year ago. That same boy delicately placed his hand on Isaac’s, a comforting reassurance that everything would be okay.
There was no need for explanations. He never asked questions. This boy just knew. It was for this reason that they were able to grow together so closely. Isaac was looking for a friend and in that, found a best friend.
That boy was beautiful. His hair was short yet unruly. Red haired, with dark brown eyes. His face always had a slight pink hue. Brendon turned towards the wheel and drove off. Isaac didn’t know where they were going, but he didn’t doubt Brendon’s intuition.
That was the last time he ever saw his parents.
The only thing he wished he had done that day was tell them the truth. He wished he could tell them that he thinks about them all the time. He wished that he could tell his parents that he was mostly happy now.
His kids were great, growing smarter and more cunning every day. As he watched his kids play in their backyard, he felt himself tear up. His mom would never play with his small girls.
Brendon slid his hand into his own, very much like that fateful day, where their lives began. This time he rested his head on Isaac's shoulder and exhaled.
“I’m glad you got in the car”