See, the problem with thinking is that thoughts are usually not good for the situation. For example, me thinking kiss me again is NOT something I should say out loud or write down. That’s about the worst thing I could do. So instead of doing something stupid, I ripped out a sheet of paper from my notebook, and started to write a note back to him. 

Angel,

It might have been bad timing (I won’t say if it was or wasn’t because I don’t know myself), but I do like you, and if we could talk about this, I’d really appreciate it. 

- Mawce

P.S. You’re a really good kisser

Yeah that was stupid, but he hasn’t seen it yet, so I do have a chance to rewrite it. Unfortunately, no matter how much thinking I do, I never do the thing that’s not stupid. So, following my pattern, I slid the note under his door, and walked back to my room. I wondered if he would be happy about it. I hoped so. 

I wish I could go home. To my own room, my glow-in-the-dark stars, the kitchen tile that was crooked, the door to the pantry that never closed right. Why did this have to happen to me? If I hadn’t been so fucking stupid- maybe it would be better. The ceiling in this house was popcorned, so to distract myself, I looked for shapes in the patterns of texture.

There was a dog, three shapes that looked like a capital letter I, an iguana, and two birds. Not very exciting, but a good way to take up time. Not really, if I'm being honest. No matter how many ways I tried to distract myself, I kept going back to the kiss with Angel. His lips had been so soft, and all I had wanted to do was melt into it, into him.

I buried my face into a blanket, and put my headphones in. If I was going to suffer, I was going to suffer. Addison Grace was always a good, depressing choice. His voice filled the space I resided in, and my heart immediately felt more comfortable with the hurt it had acquired. I forget, sometimes, that music is one of the main ways I express myself, and that without it, I tend to forget how to process my emotions. I've never done well with silence. Maybe it's just my autistic ass being unable to function the way everyone else seems to, but I've never understood why people would choose to live in the real world instead of one they could make up inside their heads. It's easier, when you can control everything.

Like how in my head, Ida was still with me in person, my mom wasn't a homophobic prick, and Angel hadn't gotten awkward after our kiss. Unfortunately, no matter how hard I try, I can't make that stupid little dream of mine come true. I don't really understand how my mom was okay with all of my shit, but being gay was the worst possible outcome. I would be queer even if I wasn't gay! I don't really share that kind of thing, so I suppose you, dear reader, will just have to wait.

When I could see the stars outside my window (in case you were wondering, Draco is my favorite constellation), a small knock came on my door. I guess I had fallen asleep during all of my moping time, because I could not remember eating dinner, or doing anything else than lie on my bed, for that matter. I stood up to open the door, black spots crowding my vision from having stood up too fast, and Angel was on the other side, holding two plates of food.

"I thought maybe we could eat in here and talk?"