June 20th, 1969

"We gather here today to remember the loss of someone very close to all of us," Tyler says, Josh right by his side with their hands interwoven, "Gabriel Eduardo Saporta passed at the hands of a police officer at precisely 11 o'clock PM on June 17th. It was a horrible tragedy that yet another queer youth had to die at the hands of a police officer. Some of you may be angry. Some of you may be grieving, but as one, we are all in pain. We should not remember Gabe as nothing but a toy, a whore, a slut. But as a man of no fear. Because he fought back against those police. He fought when when we ran.

"Gabriel is a symbol that all love is valid. That men can love men and women can love women. That a man or woman can be neither or both. That men can really be women and women can really be men. He is a symbol that we will not turn back," Tyler looks to Josh, his voice pitched high and cracking, "We must fight back. Even when all hope seems lost. Thank you."

Tyler steps back and Josh comes ahead, a small bruise fading from his cheek.

"We will now take volunteers if you'd like to share a story or speak more on this matter."

Patrick is the first to stand beside Pete, his fingers untangling from the raven-haired boy's and his legs guiding him up to the altar. Gabe's body rests peacefully in the coffin, a dark suit over his body and all the color gone from his face. He's beautiful. And Pete can't help but feel the deepest ache within himself for the Latino boy. His first time. The kid who made him laugh at least a thousand times. He only knew him for three months but... a lot happens in three months.

Pete can hear the sound of rain beginning to fall from the cloudy, New York sky. Rustling to bright green pines and onto the roof of the church, God is crying and Pete doesn't even believe in one. He never saw it, but he knows Gabe fought. He knows he must have screamed at those cops. And it was passed off as nothing but an overreacting faggot. Like he didn't even fucking matter. That pisses him off the most. That they didn't even pay him respect. They just spat on his dead body and joked about how they probably took him out of the pain his ass must have been in.

He feels tears rising to his eyes at that thought.

"I'm Patrick. And I know only a few of you know me, but that's okay. I knew him. I knew him as a friend, a close friend. He told me everything that has been on his mind for so long, every little problem and every little issue. And I know, it was a horrible tragedy what happened. I know that what those cops did was inhumane. And more to that, how Andy, a good friend of ours, has been sentenced to death. Gabe didn't deserve death. He didn't deserve to die for nothing more than being attracted to men. He poses no threat to society. He is not disgusting. If you're here today and you're queer. Believe me, you are not a burden. Nobody deserves to end up like Gabe did except for the policeman that shot and killed him."

Patrick takes a deep breath and after some thought and a glance to Josh, he parts his lips and onto the audience, he looks. Across Gabe's mother and sister. His father didn't come. He said he'd rather die than come to his son's funeral. After all, he was nothing more than a faggot. Than a whore for men who want a quick jerk and go. His gaze continues to Travis, and Joe and Hayley. To his aunts and uncles and cousins. There aren't many, but there are enough to outnumber those from The Ninth Circle.

"It's unjust. It's absolutely disgusting that homosexuality is illegal. That people get to decide who people are allowed to love. Gabe was close to several people. To me, to Travis. It's utter bullshit that he can be killed just like that. Without hesitation. Several witnesses saw. How that police officer just shot him because he was defending those close to him. And I'm tired of people acting like it's okay. It's just how things are. It's bullshit. It's... it... it needs to stop. We need to make it stop."

Patrick wipes a tear from his cheek and after a long, calculating breath, he looks to Tyler and says.

"Thank you."

He leaves the altar and not long after, Travie takes his place, eyes low and hands folded. His normal afro is braided back into dreads, a rose in his pocket, bright red.

"When..." Travie takes a breath, not bringing his eyes from the floor. Pete knows they dated, not entirely in love, but not entirely out of it. Gabe was extremely polyamorous, Travie was okay with him fucking whoever he wanted. Sometimes together, sometimes not. But what matters is that this hit Travis hard. Harder than anyone else here. Pete just wishes everything were back to normal. That Gabe had never died. It pulls him down. He doesn't know if it's something he can take well.

"When Gabe and I first met, it was at The Ninth Circle," He licks his lips, "He was the sweetest man I'd ever met. I'd never had sex before. I'd never kissed a man before. I'd never been in love before. Not truly. My parents had always pushed me to find a girl because they were afraid. There were so many rumors of the queer population growing. They were afraid that I'd be sent to hell. Or that... that I would be stuck in purgatory forever. They forced me, girl after girl. But I knew I was gay by the time I was ten. I was just too afraid to admit it.

"I went to The Ninth Circle after a friend of mine, Will, told me about it. And like I said, that's where I met Will. He was my first for everything. We were in love, and we weren't. He was there when I needed help, and I was there when he did, too. We had sex, and it was nothing like I'd ever experienced before. We kissed, and it sent a spark through me that I'd never felt with any girl. We were not exclusive, but we still stayed together. After rough days, he would tell me it would be okay. After his father disowned him, I was right there for him. And it was all we needed. We fell in and out of love with other people, but we stayed together.

"It was odd, but we didn't care. Because it worked for us. Gabe didn't deserve to die how he did. He was young. Only 27. It's not old enough. It wasn't just."

Travie's dark eyes rise, meeting Pete's and Patrick's and Joe's and Gabe's mother's.

"We've all lost something today. A lover, a friend, a son, a sibling. And we are all hurt. He meant something to me that I didn't have with anyone else, and I will never really recover. None of us will. But we will heal over time. We will have scars, but they will no longer be open wounds.

"Because we have something they cannot take from us.

"And that is resistance."

***

Knock, knock, knock

"That should be Frank," G says, their eyes attached to the door while Ryan rises to his feet and grabs it. Pete is leaning back against the couch, hand in Patrick's while Lindsey's head sits comfortably in his lap and Hayley holds her torso. Dallon, unfortunately, gets her feet.

They're all here from The Ninth Circle because Frank's brought them here with news of a protest. All they said is that they're meeting up at Lindsey's to talk over everything that's happened and figure out what they're doing next. They can't just find another gay bar and pretend it never happened, but at the same time they can't just head up to the police station and demand Gabe and Andy's life back. So, they handle this like anyone else would.

Frank doesn't sit, Ryan only returns to his own seat and Frank stands in front of all of them, their hands in the pockets of their jacket and their eyes cast up to the crowd, "Do we all know what happened to Brendon and Will? I know the word hasn't really gotten around yet, we need to clear up some things before we begin."

"We haven't heard," Patrick says from beside Pete, "I know they haven't decided on Brendon's sentence but what happened to Will?"

Ryan flinches out of the corner of their eye, his fingers visibly beginning to shake. Tyler immediately hugs him close and lets him know he's okay. It's okay. Will's okay. Pete's curiosity spikes.

Frank swallows, "Will... his parents sent him off to Creedmoor. To treat his, quote and quote, 'queerness.' I don't know what they're doing to him but, we know for sure conversion therapy. Possibly lobotomies. I don't know. As for Brendon, he's been sentenced three months in prison for assaulting a police officer. It's not bad, but at the same time it's not good. We need him for the protest. Which, by chance, I've come to organize today."

"What's this about?" G asks, their arms splayed back across the couch.

"Well," Frank says, "There have been more and more raids on gay bars lately. People who are just being arrested for how they dress or who they love. And I've been talking to a few friends I know of. They want to protest. We're not sure when, or where, but we're hoping the next raid that happens, we'll be there. We need signs, spraypaint, anything you've got. It'll be peaceful, but if they start to get violent, we're violent right back at them.

"This isn't a happy little, 'someday we'll have the right we need.' This is a, 'we need our rights now.' We are people, too, we love differently, and it's bullshit, absolute bullshit that they can arrest us for something like that. We deserve normal human rights," Frank looks across the room, Lindsey has sat up from Pete's lap and she's got a spark of determination in her eye. It's obvious everyone kind of does. Ryan doesn't look as defeated, his chin is high. G is smirking to Pete and Patrick's left and Patrick is on the edge of his seat. He's ready. They're all ready for this.

"The next raid they have on a gay bar, we'll be there. I'll call you, and you guys call who you can. Everyone needs to know. No more oppression, we're going to fucking fight."

"Do we have any tips?" Hayley asks.

"Not yet, there have been rumors of Stonewall but nothing's been confirmed," Frank replies, "Like I said, it's going to be the next raid."

"What if we die?" Travis says out of nowhere. Everyone's eyes turn to him, "Are you sure we'd be able to have another death on our hands after Gabe and Andy. I mean, how many more funerals have to happen? This isn't going to fix anything, the government is going to just shut us down again. Then what? Say Lindsey dies next, or G. We'll be devastated. We can't do things that risk more than we can lose."

"It's a risk we have to take, Travis, if we want equality, then we have to risk it," Frank replies.

"Bullshit," Travie growls, rising to his feet and shoving past Frank, "This is all bullshit and you know it."

He slams the door shut, and just like that, he's gone.

Silence fills the room, awkward and thick. It takes a good minute before Frank can finally part his lips and he says in a whisper, "I'm gonna go check on him."

He leaves, and after a few minutes, conversation floods the room, Lindsey and Hayley talk about how hurt Travie must be, how sad they feel for him. Tyler and Josh and Patrick and G launch into a conversation about the protests, will it be at Stonewall? Will it be peaceful? And to his right, Dallon is there, staring at his hands, his dark hair covering his face. Hayley quickly pulls him into their conversation though. Pete is left there without a conversation and... he feels okay with that. While everyone else is distracted, he heads up from the couch and goes upstairs, shutting his door and falling back into his bed. He feels like a teenager without a care but he just... he feels empty.

William is at Creedmoor. Ryan is hurt. Brendon is in jail. Andy is bring sentenced to death. Gabe is already dead. He can't help but feel a sense of dread. What's gonna happen to him? What's gonna happen to Pete? Will he die, too? Will he be hurt just as bad? Or will he survive?

He's in so deep in his thoughts, he doesn't even hear Ryan come in. But he's immediately alert when the brunette sits at his bed and clears his throat.

"Hey um..." He licks his lips, "I trust you a lot. And... you've been a good friend to me. And I feel like I shouldn't go alone, I don't know if I can go alone." Ryan takes a deep breath, gathering their thoughts, "I... I'm just afraid for Will. I want to visit him. and I know they won't let him see me but... if you're there I feel like they might let me at least see how he's doing. Or maybe you can talk to him... I'm just..." Ryan purses his lips, his throat swelling.

"I... I miss him so damn much," They whisper, "I want him back."

Pete licks his lips, feeling tears rise to his own eyes as he listens to Ryan break and fall and shatter in front of him.

"I messed up, you know. I should have... I should have helped him get away..."

"I'll come," Pete replies, pulling up and looking Ryan in the eye. Their fingers are shaking and they look completely and utterly broken.

"Really?"

"Of course."

cs~򞭠