I just realized that I haven't told you about my life before I was outed.

I'll be honest...it was a good one. I had loving parents, a little brother Raphael who looked up to me, and people whom I could then call my best friends. I was quarterback for my football team, and was hence quite popular in school. I used to earn decent money from private tutoring and pet-sitting, and after saving up for a couple years, I managed to collect a small fortune. All in all, a very nice and happy teenage life. 

My parents are very religious, if you didn't get that from my brother's and my name. Nathaniel, the angel of fire. Raphael, the angel of healing. I remember finding that so ironic after my parents found out I was gay. 

I burnt away their hopes, and they hoped my brother would 'heal' them. 

It was a little amusing honestly.

Every Sunday, my parents would drag me and my brother out of bed for church. We'd grumble about being up too early, and my father would lecture us on how we were acting immature and irresponsible. Meanwhile, my mother would glare at us playfully, and make funny faces behind his back. She says that it was her way of making sure we never took our father's words to heart. It worked most of the time. 

Raphael was like any other little brother. He was devoted to me, was incredibly loud, and was too fucking cute. He was also extremely smart. That kid played chess for fun. He always liked to play with me. Or, wipe the floor with me. He always had a wicked delight in his eyes when he played chess, a look that honestly terrified me. 

Because that kid could be completely stoic for the first 5 minutes of the game, but the minute you screw up, his face would slowly morph into a malicious grin, and that is when you knew. That is when you know that you are about to be destroyed, in the most brutal way possible, by a 7-year old kid. 

And then, immediately after the game, he would turn into the most innocent child ever, as he brought out his Pokémon video games, and handed me a controller, with a smile so bright, that it hurt to be upset with him. 

Raphael refused to speak to me for a month after I was out. It was most definitely the worst feeling in the world. I know that he was just a kid. I know that he was only doing what my father told him to do. And I know that he just wanted to please his parents. But despite all that, I still continued to try and talk to him. Finally, after five weeks it worked. 

He came to my room in the middle of the night, and hit me till I woke up. 

When I did, he hugged me and started crying. As he sobbed, he kept telling me how much he hated me for disappointing my parents. How much he hated me for being the reason my father dumped so many expectations onto his shoulders. How much he hated me for being the reason he was bullied in school, because his big brother was a f*ggot. 

As much as I hate to admit this, I was insanely happy when I found out. Because at least in this, unethical manner, I could talk to my brother.

Of course I did loose my shit when I found out he was being bullied. I might have threatened and emotionally scarred the kids who hurt Raphael. I might have also physically hurt them.

It was nothing too serious, just a little shoving around and some light bruising. My quarterback status meant that I was built enough to be intimidating. If anything, my social isolation meant I had even more time to dedicate to the gym.

Their parents complained to mine. But I got away with it. Punishing me meant acknowledging me, and that was something my father refused to do.

At any rate, my brother was left alone. A couple years later, when he joined high school, he met a few people, forged close friendships, had a couple girlfriends, and basically lived a normal teenager life. When he turned eighteen, I convinced him to move it with me. He's attending college now for a degree in cyber-security.

My mother, Catherine Cruz, is the only person I know who isn't afraid of my father. To the rest of the world, she's a God-loving, (not fearing but loving) and a compassionate women. To me, she is the most loyal person to ever exist, the most wisest, and the most loving.

She is the only person who can make my father look at the world that exists outside the Church. I'm pretty sure she's the only person who can make my father feel emotions. I'm not exaggerating, My father had to be forced to hug me and my brother as children. 

I suppose he just never was one to express what he felt. But I remember, everyday after he came home from work, he would hug my mother and kiss her head lovingly. Then he would turn towards me and my brother, and nod uncomfortably. My mother would jab my father with her elbow, and gesture towards me and my brother with little to no subtlety, and my father would either crush us like ants, or barely even touch us. There was no in-between.

After I was out, my mother started splitting her time between me, Raphael and my father.

After coming home from school, Mum would sit with me and we'd each lunch together. She's tell me that my father just wasn't used to the idea of two boys liking each other, that he would come around. I never believed her, but I didn't want to tell her that. She tried so hard to keep our family together.

My relationship with my mother became so much more than family after I was out. We started talking about real stuff, not the basic "How was school?", or "What do you want for dinner?" She told me things that she claims to never have told anyone, like how she had a rebel phase and got lip-piercings and rode motorcycles. 

She even had a twin brother, who came out as pansexual to his family when he was 16. No one accepted him. Not his parents, or his friends. My grandparents locked him up, and they just pretended as though he didn't exist. Even my mother found it hard to accept him. She says that this was the first time she had ever heard of it. 

She couldn't understand it, nor did anyone let her. 

My grandparents were controlling extremists. They lived strictly according to the Holy Book, and the words of the Priest. So when he said that 'unnatural sexual urges' was a consequence of demonic activity, they immediately arranged for an exorcism. 

My uncle couldn't handle it. He slit his wrists. When he thought he wasn't bleeding fast enough, he slit his neck. 

Two days after I found out of my uncle and his cruel death, my grandparents died in a car accident. They were on their way here. Someone in our town had told them of their gay grandson. 

My mother was crushed. At first I assumed it was because she lost her parents, but she told me a while later that she felt desolate because of her first reaction, which was relief. 

She said that her parents were cruel after her brother's coming out. She felt relieved that I wouldn't have to go through what he did. But despite it all, they were still her parents. And she loved them. And I loathed myself for forcing my mother to go through that. 

As for me, despite how cruel it might sound, I'd never felt more happy when I found out of my grandparent's death. 

Maybe there is a God up there. Maybe He doesn't care about who I love. Maybe He loves me.

***-***

Author's Note

Wow. That was..intense.
Just to clarify, this story is set in Canada, in the year 2005, which is when Nathaniel was out.
I know the uncle's part was a little graphic. But it was actually a pretty common thing in the 50's for the LGBTQ+ and it still hasn't completely stopped.  The psychological damage had people kill themselves in the most horrific ways possible. 

Hit a like if you liked this chapter.
Comment on this chapter...I'd love to know what you guys think.
See ya later lovelies<3

EDIT:- @Selly1010 helped me realize that I never mentioned Nate's mother's reaction to her parents death..yikes. So, I've written that in now...thanks a bunch!!

Also, big thanks to @Nax_00 who helped a bunch with grammar and sentence structure.