When he reached his room, Jett hurled himself onto his enormous bed, the one he’d filled with throw pillows and soft blankets. When he brought home a hook up, he never shared this part of himself with them. His bedroom was his own personal sanctuary, his safe zone.
Jett scooted to the head of the bed and grabbed a large, squishy unicorn pillow that was his favorite, and hugged it to him. He rested his chin on the head of the unicorn, bending the horn and rubbing his thumb along the soft fur the way he always did.
The hated tears came, hot like a brand against his cheeks. He never cried, hadn’t since the night his dad left. His father had declared loudly enough, so that half the neighborhood could hear, that he was sick of his mom raising Jett to be a fairy, that he wasn’t going to contribute money for sissy ballet classes anymore.
Shortly after that, Jett had received the scholarship grant for all his classes. But it was too late, his father was gone and never came back. Jett had no idea where he was now.
Even though it wasn’t cold, Jett tugged at the fluffy throw he’d had with him for years, the one his mom had given him when he’d moved into the dorms. The ballerina pixies were wearing thin in a few spots, but between the unicorn pillow and the covering, it usually helped calm him.
As he sniffed and wiped away his tears, the sound of the front door closing followed by Silas’ car starting brought on a new bout of crying. Silas was leaving. Silas didn’t care about him. All he gave a shit about was the fucking band.
This time, he didn’t stop weeping until sleep dragged him into unconsciousness.