Days have passed and I barely leave my room. As much as I want to text Bradley, I can't seem to part with the pillow I'm cradling in my arms, thoughts of Whittney burning through my mind.

I can still smell him when I put my nose to it and inhale deeply. A few tears soak into the fabric as I squeeze my eyes shut. Even though I'm the one who told him to leave me alone, a part of me is still upset that I never heard back from him. Wrapped up in my blanket cocoon, I've had plenty of time to think, and all I can think about is how much I miss him.

No. You can't be stupid enough to want to go back to him.

There's a knock on my door and I sigh heavily. "Go away, Charlette."

"It's Mom." Her soft voice barely reaches my ears. "Can I come in?"

Pulling the blanket over my head, I groan. "No."

The door opens anyways and I feel a hand rub my back. "I just want to know what's going on with you. You haven't left the house and you hardly ate any turkey last night. You usually love Thanksgiving."

"It's nothing, Mom." I turn over so my back faces her. "Can you please leave?"

She squeezes my shoulder with a sigh. "Okay, honey."

When the door closes behind her, I grab my phone. It's been off for the last couple of days because I couldn't deal with all that's going on. I just needed the illusion that my life was set on pause. The notifications start streaming in when I turn it back on and one message catches my attention right away.

'Are you really gay?'

I sit up immediately, swiping through to see messages that more or less ask the same question. Some from people I don't even know. I start choking on air, my vision blurring as I reach into the drawer of my nightstand. One deep breath from my inhaler manages to calm me down enough to prevent a panic attack.

Then a message from Rodney: I fucking knew it.

Slamming my phone down onto my bed, I curl up into a ball. The whole entire school probably knows by now and the thought has me screaming into my pillow. "Dammit!"

There are three people who could have done this to me, each guess hurting more than the last. Bradley, the one I led on, only to let down. Austin, the one I never told the truth to. And Whittney, the one I didn't side with, telling him to get out of my life even though it's the last thing I wanted.

As much as it kills me, I can't shake the idea that it was Whittney who blabbed. He threatened telling everyone, but I figured that was just talk after he sent that apology text. It turns out that he kept his word.

With a huff, I roll out of bed and throw on a jacket over my hoodie, grabbing my keys on the way out the door. I'm not spending another minute sulking in my bed, not when there was someone I needed to see.

Charlette stops me in the driveway. "Where you going?"

I continue past her, toward my car. "There's someone I need to apologize to."

~ ~ ~

My heart beats heavily as I park my car across the street from Bradley's place. Now that I'm here, I can't bring myself to get out of the car. I pull at my sleeves nervously as I look up at the daunting apartment complex.

The last time Bradley and I talked was over the phone and it ended with him hanging up on me. It's different now, though, with Whittney out of the picture. Maybe Bradley will give me another chance.

With that boost of motivation, I get out of the car. I look at the list of residents and press the button next to 'Stuart'. There's no answer, but the door buzzes open and I slip in. His apartment number is twenty-four, which, after running up three flights of stairs and two breaths from my inhaler, I find out is on the fourth floor.

My hand stops mid-air before I knock, taking one more breath of my inhaler. When I finally build up the strength, it doesn't take long for someone to answer.

Bradley opens the door with a smile, but it fades quickly when he realizes it's me.

"Harry? You can't-" Bradley sighs, closing the door slightly behind him. "You can't just show up here."

"I know, I'm sorry. I-I just thought that we could talk?" I pull at my sleeves again.

Another voice rings out from inside the apartment. "Bradley, who is it?"

Rodney.

Bradley looks me in the eye. "It's no one." He lowers his voice. "Harry, you really need to go."

"Please."

He looks both ways down the hall before quickly pulling me in and closing the door.

"My room is around the corner to the left," Bradley whispers, pointing down the right direction. "Wait for me there."

I quickly turn the corner and close the door to his room behind me. Voices carry down the hall from the main room and from the sound of it, at least half the team is over right now. It was definitely a risk to come over without warning, but their familiar voices seem to fade away as I look around the room.

Never have I seen a teenage boys' room look so well kept. Not one thing is out of place. The covers of the bed are draped over in such a way that it almost looks ironed down, small blankets are perfectly folded at the end. There is nothing covering the dresser, and the nightstand is only decorated with a lamp, accompanied by a small alarm clock. A tv rests in the corner across from the bed and the stand it sits upon has little drawers. They're probably filled with PlayStation controllers and games because there's a spotless, unplugged gaming console on the shelf.

As I look around, the urge to snoop takes over. The closet in the corner calls to me and I can't push down the curiosity. It's rare that I ever see Bradley in the same outfit and when I open the door, I realize why. It's a walk-in and it's filled to the brim with clothes hanging perfectly sorted by color.

With all these clothes, I wonder how no one in his family has figured out his little secret. So many colors of the rainbow spring out at me that I feel like gay pride is being rammed down my throat.

When I hear the loud slamming of the front door, I quietly shut his closet before looking for a place to sit so I'm not awkwardly standing here. To my dismay, the bed is practically screaming for me to stay clear. Sitting down on it would be a crime. It's too late anyway because Bradley enters the room without closing the door behind him.

The guys must have all left because he doesn't look as tense as he did before.

Bradley crosses his arms as he looks at me. When I don't say anything, he raises his eyebrows. "Yes? You wanted to talk, so talk."

In all the years I've known him, I've never been on this side of one of his unimpressed looks before. As much as I want to evert my gaze, I keep eye contact, even when my cheeks heat up.

"I wanted to, um." I clear my throat. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry."

He doesn't flinch. "Is that all?"

"No. I also wanted to say I wasn't trying to lead you on. Well, not completely. I mean, it wasn't my intention." I scratch the back of my neck when I realize I'm rambling. "What I'm trying to say is that I like you."

"Harry." He looks down with a sigh. "I don't want to go through all of this again with you. Why don't you just-"

"I broke it off with Whittney." 

That catches Bradley's attention, his eyes finding mine. "You did?"

I nod and tears fill my eyes. "He did something really shitty and we had a fight."

Bradley's hand cups my cheek when he takes a step closer. "Did he do this to you?"

He must be talking about the fading bruise I've completely forgotten about. "Yeah. But I hit him first."

With brows raised, his eyes twinkle in amusement. "You always struck me as a pacifist."

I smile sadly. "There's a lot you don't know about me yet."

Bradley wipes my tears away and pulls me into a hug. "Hey, it's alright. Everything's okay."

I shake my head and pull away. "No, everything is not okay. I think Whittney's the one who outed me."

"Douchebag," Bradley whispers under his breath. He grabs my shoulders and smiles lightly at me, kissing my forehead. "I'm here for you, Harry. I'm here."

This time, I'm the one to hug him. I hold onto him for dear life as I calm down. "Thank you."

Bradley cups my cheeks with both hands and kisses me. When we part, he strokes them lightly with his thumbs, leaning his forehead against mine.

"I forgive you."