Leroy Adkins is an underperformer. He barely graduated. He barely got a job, and he hardly socializes in his day-to-day life.
Zachary Turner has been sick for as long as he can remember, and as he grows older the crushing realization that he never...
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One could say Leroy spent the next few days in a mini trance, replaying what Zachary had said to him in that one moment. Every time he thought about it, his chest felt light, and his heartbeat picked up its pace. He wasn't really sure what to think of the whole ordeal, or what to do, especially since Zachary had proceeded to continue things business as usual as if he hadn't said something worth dwelling over.
He loves you. Leroy said to himself, blinking as he stared down at his bowl of cereal. No, he said he thinks he does. He reminded himself, being anal about the specifics. He could barely think straight, and even when he was in meetings or trying to get through work his mind would conjure that intense look on Zachary's face, and the hairs on his arms would stand when he remembered what he said.
Zachary loved him—or thought he did, and Leroy wasn't sure how to react.
No one had told him that before, and he'd never really been in a long-term thing enough for those feelings to develop.
He started wondering how he felt about Zachary—wondering if how he felt about the older man with long tight curls and the most sculpted face counted as being in love. He felt sick thinking about how much he cared about Zach—how his world would turn upside down if even the smallest thing were to happen to him. He clearly cared a lot about him, but the fantastical somewhat obsessive descriptions of love were not really what he thought he was feeling.
"You've been sitting there for over an hour."
Leroy looked up when he heard his mum's voice.
"Hmm?" he muttered, frowning a bit when the older woman took a sit at the table across from him. She was holding a steaming mug, probably nesting the tea she liked to drink.
"Is something the matter? I'm pretty sure cereal is soggy right now," she said, and Leroy looked down at the bowl, and sure enough, it was. It was probably cold too. It didn't matter. It wasn't like he was thinking straight enough to even be hungry.
"It's fine," Leroy said, pushing the bowl aside. "I wasn't that hungry anyway," he declared, resting back on his seat as he spared his mother the faintest of smiles.
"You don't look too good," the woman said, pursing her lips before bringing the mug of tea to her lips. "What's on your mind?" she probed, setting her mug down.
"It's nothing," Leroy said, shaking his head. He wasn't sure he was ready to share his dating woes with his mother. She would just make everything depressing by bringing up his dad. She always did.
"Are you sure?" the older woman asked, not letting it go. "You know, you can talk to me."
Leroy sighed, folding his hands across his chest. "It's just dating issues."
"The person you're seeing?" his mother asked, and Leroy narrowed his eyes at her. He hadn't told her he was seeing anyone, had he?
"Err..." Leroy trailed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not exactly seeing anyone, more like a general issue—"
