He breathes a sigh of relief when Trent leaves him alone. The fabulous Warbler watched him until he stopped shaking, then made him eat peanut butter crackers that had mysteriously appeared from somewhere. Satisfied that his captain was not in danger any more, Trent had sashayed off to second period in a cloud of rainbows, sparkles and fashionable broaches on his navy blazer.
He doesn't know why he is so relieved when Trent leaves. He wants so badly not to be alone right now. He wants to be somewhere safe, surrounded by people who love him. He wants to be somewhere that gives him permission to love himself.
His loneliness, it's a physical pain. A vice is gripping his chest, constricting his lungs and his heart. It hurts so much, being alone here. Emptiness is burning him from the inside out.
He wants his mama to wrap her arms around him, and hold him close, rocking him back and forth. He wants to hear her whisper, I love you, no louder than a breath.
Oh, God, he wants to call him mother so badly.
He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone. Deftly, he enters the code to unlock it. He presses the address book function, and scrolls through the numbers. His thumb hovers over the entry for Mom, but he can't bring himself to press it.
He cannot call his mother now. It might be early morning in Lima, but she is half way through her day in France. He will worry her if he calls her like this, and, as much as he needs his mother, the need to protect her from his darkness fills every fiber of his being. He doesn't know what would be worse: his mother picking up and having to lie to her, or her not picking up at all.
So, he lays, curled up and paralyzed by indecision. The soreness in his body from last night is nothing compared to the ache in his heart. He doesn't know where the emotion has come from. He doesn't know how to banish it. He wishes, more than anything, to have control of the void he is staring into.