the worst kind of betrayal (writing practice -- part 1)



Have you noticed, that craft classes always have that one distinctive, thick smell? Of course, the obvious smell of wood, like you’re a wood mite living under the skin of a tree. Alex’s birthday is right around the corner, so I’ve decided -let’s make him something,- as I would prefer something homemade over shop-bought any day of the week, I want to make him feel like that.
     “Hey, loser,” Callum swatted me over the head as he came to talk to me, the dull ache remained for a couple of seconds
     “Hey, dickhead, that actually kinda hurt, did that…”
 “Oh shut up, it was a tap on the head.” He slunk down beside me, elbows on the desk, his short blonde waves covering out of his face.

     “So, what are your plans tonight?” he asked as he brushed my hair back into its usual style, “The parents want me to go to a vegan restaurant with them because they’re trying it out and I’d go with a bargain bucket of spicy wings, at least I’d get banned from going ever again,”
     “Well, it’s mine and Alex’s nine month anniversary today so I’m making him somethi—“
     “-nine month anniversary?- People actually do that?” His face paled slightly at the idea. Sentimentality is definitely not his forté.
     “Yeah, it might actually get you laid if you do something romantic for once in your life,” He looked up at me, and tried to hide his smile of defeat.
     “What is it you’re designing him anyway?”
 “He likes interior design, so I’m making him a latched white key holder with gold hooks — it’s to go in his kitchen, he said he needed something to breakup the dark greys and black marble tops. He paused for a second, his face turned inquisitive.
     “Why don’t you ask him out for a meal if you’re so bothered?”
     “He’s already told me that he’s going out with his parents, so I didn’t want to impose on that. As you know, I hate people that change plans,”
     “Oh yeah,” his expression relaxed and he let out a slight sigh, "you sounded so fucking gay then, but you do have good taste… like when you helped me get ready for a date… I, on the other hand, don’t…” He straightened himself up and inhaled deeply, “Well, I’m gonna go get myself reported to PETA for disrespecting a vegan restaurant, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”
     “Yeah, I’ll ride my bike to yours at, like, nine-ish?”
     “Sweet, see ya.” He passed Jim as he left the class, who shot me a subtle look of distain. “What are you looking at, brother Christian?” asked Callum.
     “Just a couple of admitted sodomites,” he replied with a smirk.
     “You see, Jim, even though your parents don’t believe in contraception or abortion, the least your mum could’ve done was swallow…” Callum smiled and left before Jim had a chance to reply.

     “Okay, people,” said Mr. Horsfall’s this voice, penetrating my chest, “time to pack your things away, I know you all want to go early and quite frankly, so do I. Enjoy your weekends!” At home, I finished the present, placed photographs of me and Alex together inside and wrapped it, even tying ribbon around it to make a nice bow on the front. Final touch, an anniversary card from the internet, reading:



My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep: the more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite.



A spur-of-themoment inspiration suddenly struck me…
I am one soppy bastard, I thought.


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