The Cabinet

Theodore lied in the bathtub, no water running, face mask on and stared at the now pastel pink spots on his shoes. He watched the smoke rise from the cigarette that hung limply from his fingers, and they seemed pale in the artificial yellow light. He had leaned his head back, too harshly judged by the sound and dull ache. It was childish of him to be mad at Tate and Isiah to have something he couldn’t have. But it was an emotion he has never felt, being a rich kid that always got everything does that to you. At some point Theodore didn’t even know what he wanted anymore or who he really was and what of him was built by his parents. He knew nothing and it gnawed at his bones.
“Are you in the bathroom.” Shit. He hadn’t even heard Holden come home. His mind hardly reeled into action after obsessively thinking for too long, and he gaped at the door. Apparently he took too long. “Are you ok? Can I come in?”
“Yeah.” It was only a croak, but it was enough as the door opened and Holden looked at him with worry, an expression Theodore hadn’t seen often in his life. He watched Holden’s eyes shift from his face to the bathtub and to the cigarette.
The cigarette was taken from his fingers leaving a light warmth behind before it got flushed down the toilette. “Not inside, idiot.” Holden kneeled beside the bathtub, eyes level with his. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.” He stared at the tiles beside him where flowers in sepia were painted onto, and he counted their brown petals.
“If you want to lie about how you are, you really need to get better at behaving like nothing’s wrong.”
“Normally it works,” he muttered, reaching the thirteenth petal. Holden changed the subject, “What’s that on your face?”
“A face mask. Want one? Helps with dry skin.” Theodore barely finished speaking when Holden answered.
“Hard pass.”
“Come on, you need to take more care of yourself.”
Holden raised an eyebrow. “With a face mask?”
“Yes.” Theodore said at the same time Holden said, “No.”
Ten minutes, and a back and forth of yes and no, later Holden leaned against the tub, white mask smeared across his face and Theodore just cackled at his unamused expression. “It smells like honey. Really bad, artificial honey.”
“It’s supposed to be good for your skin, not attract bees.”
“I feel like bees would die in shame for this.” Theodore swatted at his shoulder, and maybe he imagined they didn’t seem as tense as they normally did. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”
“Why should there be anything wrong?” Holden only turned his head to raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s nothing, really,” Theodore answered after a long pause.
“Then why can’t you talk about it?” Theodore stared at the back of his head, at the black mass of hair.
“Because it’s not nothing,” It was a mere whisper, as if there was something hidden in the cabinet under the sink he couldn’t dare wake up,“it’s the reason I’m in this town, why I was at the gas station the night you picked me up.” They whispered the words, but Theodore saw the cabinet open slightly.
“And what is the reason for that?” Theodore wanted his cigarette back.
“I’m a coward.” As he looked over at the cabinet it was tightly shut.