Chapter Seventeen - Stay By My Side
(Oskar)
"Soo Tommm..." I warily trailed off, darting my gaze to the bright gleam of the chandelier just right above me and the countless picture frames placed on top of the fern colored cabinet.
He seems to have a really nice and lovely family---something I could never have. Happy, well-loved, and filled with affection. I could just about tell that with the warm look of his parents and his younger self being kissed in the cheeks by them.
I heaved a sigh, flickering my sight to Tom who stopped walking, feet halted and eyes now staring back at me. "What?"
If anything, this might've been a wrong idea to come with him. I might die here- --kidding. All jokes aside, his anger seems to have subsided just a little. As far as I could see, he could have some anger issues--but that's none of my business.
Some people just want to keep their problems a secret, so I won't pry.
"Nothing."
He sighed, a deep one at that, then ushered his feet towards the white spiral stairs with his back now facing me. He grips his right hand on the handle, then turns his neck to see me. "Just sit by the couch or something. I'll get some clothes."
"Thanks dude," I replied whilst I rubbed my shoulders simultaneously.
He nods, not saying another word, then takes the stairs upstairs without ever looking down. I trudged my way to his camel colored couch with the television still blaring some late-night show. I take a seat, my feet planted close to each other formally, like I'm not supposed to be here.
Except that's true. My fingers involuntarily tapped anxiously on my lap to a random beat, a soft hum escaped my lips while my mind tried to rewind everything that has happened.
'If only he wasn't born! Everything was ruined the moment he came!'
"You really didn't hold back, mother," I chuckle sourly as I muttered under my breath.
I wished I wasn't born too. I always wished I never did. But did I have a choice? I didn't. Did I ask to be conceived in this world? What did I even do to deserve this? Am I disliked so much by the gods above that even my own parents don't want me?
I really don't belong anywhere---not even at my own house. Everyone thinks I'll just fail at life for pursuing to be a musician; most people I meet think I'm some broken kid who needs someone to fix him up. I didn't need that. I just wanted someone to understand me.
I thought that no one would. I didn't want to be treated like some pity child; treat me like I'm most people damn it.
At least Avery did. She didn't look at me like she's going to fix me up just like those dysfunctional people at the books you read. I was fairly normal, but people seem to forget that once they find out the circumstances I've been going through.
"Your clothes."
"Oh," I snapped out of my little reverie, noticing the clothes Tom has over his extended hand. "--thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied in a straight face, motioning me to take it off his hands.
I outstretched my arms and took it, grasping it around my fingers. It was a cotton type of pajamas with bunnies designed around it. I notice that Tom also has bunnies imprinted on his pajamas too. He likes bunnies, I guess.
I shrugged off the thought and sprung off the couch, standing close to Tom with our heights not far off. I was taller than him by just hair's reach. He murmurs. "The bathroom is by the farthest left."
I nod. Then off I went towards the bathroom.
. . .
We were currently downstairs, watching some late-night movies--albeit my focus wasn't at the movie at all. The air was so tensed and it felt awkward to say the least like meeting someone for the first time and not knowing what to say.
This guy dislikes me and now I'm at his own home, on his couch, watching a movie with him at late night. How fun. He also doesn't say anything and strains his focus to the movie without further complaints.
Fortunately, there weren't any classes until 10 since the faculty teachers had some important meeting to attend to. With that being said, I should at least say something to ease the thick brew of air.
"So Tom...nice movie?" I wryly brought up, my lips forced up to imitate at least a decent smile.
He sighs, running a hand on his disheveled blonde moss of hair. "Alright Oskar. Let me just say this: I don't like you---at least my impression of you at the moment."
I wait for him to continue.
"You know that I like her, right?" he turns to me, looking serious and sincere.
"Of course I do," I acknowledged. "---I'm not some blind guy who doesn't see it."
"Good," he mutters, then glances at anywhere but me. "---that's exactly why I can't be comfortable around you. You like her too, Oskar. Don't even lie about it."
"I...." I fumble with my words, seemingly not knowing how to respond to him now that he has confronted me. If only I knew this was going to happen, then I would've at least prepped myself. "---I honestly don't know, Tom. Maybe I do like her--well I do, but I'm not sure if it's the same as yours."
He cocked a brow, intrigued. "What do you mean by that? You like her and at the same time not?"
"It's complicated," I chuckle lightly, although it was bleak and forced just not to make the atmosphere as tense as it is right now. "---I have feelings for her, but then again, I think I'm much better off being friends with her. I respect her more than I like her. Does that make sense?"
"No."
"Right," I nod, wiping my clammy palms on my lap. "---what I mean to say is that I like her, but I don't want to pursue her at all. It feels wrong and I respect her more like someone I look up to."
"Then why did you act as if you were trying to compete with me?" his rude demeanor starts to turn into confusion, eyebrows scrunched up for questions. "---all this time I thought you wanted to slam in my face that she's better off with you."
"Oh that," a small sheepish smile emerges the edge of my lips. "---that's because I wanted you to get jealous."
"What for Matthew?" he stares intently at me, now all attention focused onto me like a hawk eyeing its prey with tenacity. It feels uncomfortable. "---what's your goal?"
"Because I owe her so much," I simply replied, grinning slightly. "---for being the first person to respect my music. That's why I wanted to help her."
He doesn't look convinced nor is satisfied with my answer. I don't really have anything to hide, so might as well tell him if he's that rigid about it.
I slightly bend forward, hands clasp around my lap. "It's really obvious you have a big crush on her, Tom. Avery didn't really believe that and most of all thought you were just annoying, so I decided to provoke you to confess your feelings for her."
"Dude!" Tom slightly raises his tone. "----what the hell?"
"I wanted to help her," I ignored his little outburst, too enthralled in saying the truth that I was numb inside. "---so that she realizes she likes you too. But she hasn't said it yet."
He remained silent. I peeked at his side to see his cheeks all flushed red with his face entirely beet red. I stifled a laugh. I couldn't contain it when he looked like a teenage girl blushing about finding his own crush likes him. "You're wrong dude!"
"Am not," I disagree, shaking my head.
"She really thinks I'm just annoying," he murmurs under his breath, the blush still present around his cheeks. "---if she likes me, she could just say it. I mean I already told her, so what's stopping her?"
"She just needs a push," I answered, leaning back to the couch, my feet now more relaxed that I spread my legs a bit to give more leeway to myself. "--plus, you guys like kissed so why is it surprising anyway?"
"Oskar!" he squeamishly screeches, as if his face couldn't get redder that it would soon turn into purple. "---how the hell did you know that?"
"I mean I saw you guys when I passed through the clinic," I shrugged casually. "---I was supposed to be getting myself something for my stomachache when you two kissed out of the blue---rather you did."
He buries himself through his palm, as if he was trying to cover his embarrassment---which I could clearly see and he looks like he could overheat. "No, no, you're wrong. I was the one who kissed her so basically I was forcing myself onto her."
I sigh. Avery and Tom sure are similar if you ask me. They both don't like to accept things unless told by the person themselves. How troublesome.
"I think Avery just recently realized she likes you too," I spoke in the middle of his fussing. "---and I think she probably won't ever say it, or so I think. So, I guess make her jealous?"
"How?"
Well that was fast.
I grin, taking in his curiosity.
"Play hard to get, Tom. I'll tell you the details soon."
He splits his fingers to peek a hole just to look at me. "You will?"
"I will."
"Well, thanks....Oskar?" he eyed me awkwardly. "---this is kinda awkward if you ask me. I mean I despised you up till now and you're helping me. I don't know how to act around you."
"You don't have to act friendly with me," I reply.
"Well you clearly aren't as bad as I thought you would be," he murmurs under his breath. Now calm, he removes his hands that covered his face. "---I thought you would be more pompous and egotistical."
It kind of makes me want to laugh. I don't know why, but this seems fun. It reminds me of guys who talk about their crushes and supporting them. Is this what it's like? I rarely engage with guys my age, so I haven't really had talks about soccer, sports and games---which I think guys talk about often.
Not that I'm assuming the two of us would be friends.
"Mind telling me why you and Avery came home late?" he softens, the anger I saw a while ago subsided. I guess he's in a good mood now.
"I had some family issue at home," I vaguely replied, my fingers involuntarily clenched into fists. I stared down at them, hoping that my feelings don't get ahead of me. "---then Avery came and one thing led to another, I'm here, unwilling to go home."
"Oh....well, I'm sorry about that," he softly piped up, sounding sorry about it. He probably knows already what that problem is. Believe me or not, but it's common to have dysfunctional families. Sometimes, things just don't work; I'm one of that---my family is one of that.
There's no use dwelling in the past. If things won't resolve itself, then it's okay. I'll just continue to live my life the way I want. When I save up enough money from my part time job at eighteen, I'd move out; then I'd rent a small studio space and go to community college. I'd work up my way and meet some acquaintances who can get me connections to become a musician.
In the first two years, I might fail so I'll focus on my side jobs while working up the courage to start over from scratch. It sounds shaky and filled with uncertainty, but people live in risks all the time. If I don't take a leap, then when will I ever?
"It's alright Tom," I waved him off. "---I didn't say that to gain pity or something. That's just....unfortunately the truth."
"Alright," he dismisses it.
He ponders for a bit, as if contemplating about something. Then he whipped his head to meet my gaze and with a bright, gleeful grin, he interjects. "Want to start over again, Oskar?"
I could only linger my gaze at him and he continued, extending his hand in my direction. "I know I've been rude to you all this time, but learning the truth, made me realize I was a fool for assuming things."
"I want to be fair to you and start all over again," he commented. "—like a blank state."
"So what will you say?" he grins, eyes squinted with his dimple in full view.
I do admit that our first impressions were bad and left a tacky taste on our tongues. Partly of that was because of me, but here he was, willing to start over again like some cool dude.
He's really a weird guy in my opinion. He was mad, blushing, sad and now happy in a span of less than an hour—which I would've applaud with how versatile his emotions are. I guess that's just how he is.
He seems to be a nice guy too. Well I know that, especially with how he trusts and treats Avery with care.
With a reluctant smile and shaky hands, I accepted his hand, shaking it firmly with mine. "I'd be glad to, Tom Beckett."