Leaking Heart: A Novel

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 9 (v.1)

Submitted: November 22, 2011

Reads: 69

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 22, 2011



I overslept. No chance of my little suicide act now.

I rolled over onto my side, facing the alarm clock. 9:57. I felt horrible today, for some reason.

I sneezed. Ah. A cold.

I really had to piss. I threw the blankets off of myself and took my time getting to the bathroom. My feet and knees ached. And come to think of it, I don't remember crawling into bed.

I leaned myself against the wall with one hand and held it steady with my other hand. I sniffled.

"I really am gay," Shiloah had said.

What did I say back? Oh, yeah...I slammed the door in his face.

I chuckled to myself. That bitch.

I remembered his beautiful smile in the bathroom, when we first met. How great a kisser he was. His smell. All of a sudden, all the darkness in my mind was erased away from the horrible deeds he did. Why?

I shook my head to get rid of the thoughts and didn't bother to wash my hands or flush.

There was a note on the kitched table. It was Dad's handwriting. Breakfast in the microwave. Make sure you eat it. Your mother is going to look for leftovers...Anyway, hope you feel better, Athan. We both love you. :)

A smiley face? Really?

I tossed the yellow notepad paper into the trash basket, then went to the microwave to see what was on the menu. Pancakes. My stomach groaned, threatening to vomit just by thinking of eating it.

I shut the microwave and looked around at the closed cabinets that surrounded me. "What to eat, what to eat," I murmured to myself. Then I decided that I wasn't hungry and roamed around the house, looking for something to occupy myself.

"What to do, what to do..."

I scratched my head. Greasy.

"Shower," I muttered to myself. I climbed the stairs two at a time. I got to the top. Knock knock knock.

I paused.


I scratched my greasy head again. I glanced at the bathroom door, then down the stairs, struggling to make a decision. Answer the door in pajama bottoms and horrible hair, or take a shower? Door, shower. Door, shower. Door, shower. Door wins.

I slid down the banister like I did when my parents weren't home, and wiped my nose on the back of hand. I pulled open the door.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

Shiloah looked at me. "You weren't at school."

"Of course I'm not at school. I'm sick," I said. When I wasn't muttering, I sounded stuffy-nosed and hoarse, which I was.

He looked guilty and pained. I found that I hated that look on him; I would much rather see him smile.

"Um. Come in, Shiloah," I offered, scratching my head again despite my best effort not to. I hated it when my hair was like this.

He hesitated, then entered. As he passed me, I pulled the door closed. Then he laughed deeply. "You've made a grave mistake, Athan."


"For you see--" He turned around and hid his nose in the crook of his elbow, spreading his other arm out as if presenting something, "--I. Am. Dracula! Mwa-ha-aha!"

I blinked. "What?"

He let his arms fall back down to his sides. "You've never seen Dracula?" he gaped. "You know, the thing where he goes around sucking people's blood, but he can't come inside unless he's invitied?"

"I know what it is," I replied. "I was wondering why you were impersonating such an awesome guy." I led him into the kitchen, scratching.

He laughed.

I sat him at the table. "Did you eat this morning?" I asked. "I didn't."

"I didn't either." He stared at me as I started scratching with ten nails.

"Sorry. I haven't showered today. Yet," I added. "Pancakes?"

"Um. Sure, if it's no trouble," Shiloah shrugged.

"None at all," I replied, taking my plate out of the microwave. I placed the plate in front of him. "Eat up. I'm taking a shower."

He looked as if he were going to protest, but I left before he could. I went up the stairs three at a time; tripped on the last one. Epically.

It felt good to shower. The water ran down my body as I massaged the shampoo into my scalp. I made sure to hurry, though. I had a guest downstairs, after all.

I dried off and wrapped the towel around my waist, hair dripping down on my bare shoulders. I would go into my room and get dressed.

The phone rang. Downstairs. I wouldn't have time to get it if I got dressed, so I went down and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Athan," greeted Mom. "How are you feeling?"



"I took a shower," I explained.

"Oh. Well, do you feel better? Did you take any medicine?"

"No. Do I need to?" I asked. I glanced into the kitchen, then back at the receiver, then did a double take, throwing my attention back to the kitchen. Shiloah was gone.

"Not if you feel well," Mom said.

"Yeah," I said absently, not paying attention to her. "Uh-huh..."


"Uh, yeah, bye. Love you, too," I said, hanging up. "Shiloah?" I called.

I turned in a circle. Still couldn't find him. "Shiloah?" I went to the front door. It was still closed. Maybe he left?

I sighed and went upstairs to my room. I let the towel drop to the floor as I shut the door and walked over to my dresser. In the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the mirror.

I saw the reflection of Shiloah, sitting on my bed, a small smile on his face. I screamed and whipped around, already red in the face. "What are you doing in here?" I yelled.

I watched his eyes travel down my naked body.

"Hey! Face is up here!" I shouted at him. I stooped and picked up my towel, then quickly and hurriedly wrapped it back around my waist, blushing with embarrassment.

My bed squeaked as he stood up and walked over to me, still smiling. He laughed softly. "You're so cute."

I looked into his cool eyes as he put his hands on my face and pressed his body against mine. Then he kissed me sweetly.

I embraced it, closing my eyes and cherishing the feel of his lip ring, his soft, syrup-tasting tongue sliding gently over mine. I forgot the towel, wrapping my arms under his and pressing my hands against the back of his shoulders. He was taller than me.

It was hot again, and I was kissing him back again. I loved it.

© Copyright 2018 Yoshie Akira. All rights reserved.


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