[another cover by woodIeys ]

ONE:: when the bomb drops.

"I'm gay." I stated, my eyes resting on the couch where my mom sat, looking up from her bible, her face one of shock.

My mother was a preacher from a long line of other preachers, it was in her blood to study the bible every morning. The churning in my stomach, the sweat of my palms, the way I hung my head in shame; I stood by the doorframe, my eyes glued on the ground and my shoes on in case I need to bolt.

It was silent, so silent you could hear a pin drop as I held my breath waited for the words that would set me free from my emotional blockage; I'd thought that they'd accept me because they were my parents and they loved me. I thought this'd be like those inspirational coming out videos online, I was wrong.

My dad stopped sipping his coffee from his favorite mug as he stood by the staircase, his green eyes never leaving from the side of my face, the same green eyes I'd inherited. Out of my peripheral, I could tell that his eyes had widened, his shock approaching but ultimately simmering down to a hint of understanding.

And then, my mother spoke, humor in her voice as if I'd made the joke of a lifetime. My eyes flickered back to her as she smoothed down her church skirt, her mouth forming a smile as she quickly shook her head, "you're not gay, Jules." She denied before writing something down on the notepad by her bible. It was Saturday and she was preparing for church the next day.

Denial, something I'd tried when I first came to the conclusion that I wanted a boyfriend instead, when I stared more at the basketball team than the cheerleaders or the scoreboard. I'd been able to disregard that as confusion, I wasn't gay. I couldn't be that gay guy.

But when I realized I loved my best friend more than what was normal, I'd started to question my denial and accept myself eventually.

I was definitely gay.

I breathed in sharply, forcing the tears back and willing the burning in my eyes to stop, "Ma... I'm gay." I guided my voice, it coming out stronger than expected, despite the raw and broken sound. I felt like a broken record, constantly repeating something as insignificant as my sexuality to my parents. My eyes down casted on their own accord, shamefully, I was unable to look at her.

My father stayed where he was standing, "How do you know?" he asked and this brought my respect for him up immediately. It's not what he asked, it's how he asked it; my father was curious not judgemental. He was comforting in the best way he knew how.

Looking up, I shrugged forcing my eyes not to stray to my mother in fear I'd retaliate. The corners of my lips upturned slightly as I ran a hand over my face, "I just... know."

At least my father didn't hate me.

"You're just confused, Julian..." mom condescended, her voice a mixture of dying amusement and bewilderedness. She shook her head after a while, burying her nose back in her book for a second.

But before she could dismiss me, she looked back up at me, it bothered her. All of it did and she was uncomfortable, I tried not to waver in my demeanor. It had been months building up to this, I slowly started pulling away, started hanging out with Calum more often, girls less often. I kinda hoped she'd noticed.

"It's a weird age... impressionable." She was smiling, it soft as if she were actually sympathetic. "What about Carrie? She's a nice girl." And her words were blunt, hard, as if she were holding back some anger and I tried not to retreat.

Carrie Mulford was a nice girl but that was all she really was. She was one of the choir girls and I guess she was cute too with brown hair that fell over her shoulders and big brown eyes. My mother was close with her mom, had been since high school, I could sense the edge she had on her words.

"Yeah, she's nice."

"And she's pretty," she enforced, lips pursed and she was smoothing her hands over her skirt. "You know, Jill says she likes you."

"I-I don't," I tried, closing my eyes to keep composure, "I don't like her, Mom."

"Well, why not?"

"Loraine."

"Dad, how do you feel when you look at mom?" I asked, skipping over my mother's hurtful words and looking at him; my father understood me more than anyone else, he understood... he had to understand.

He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off, "do you feel like you can't breathe?"

I wrinkled my nose, looking from my mom to my dad, "Do you feel shortness of breath or like you just wanna -like- be with them? Is that love?"

Calum Cain was someone I often went out of my way to be around and I wasn't sure why thoughts of him always stayed in the back of my mind.

I thought of everything about him from his perfect blinding smile to his oceanic blue eyes and buzz cut blonde hair. Those basketball shorts he always wore even when he wasn't playing and those strong arms that wrapped around me when we did play. The little smirk he often had on his face that he had when he was planning something...

I loved him. He was just so cute and we were always there for each other, we had been for years.  Wiping at my face quickly, I tried to hold back tears.

Don't fucking cry.

"I tried to like girls, I did."

I stared at the floor, hearing a clink on the coffee table and then I heard my father's dress shoes getting closer and closer to me, the sound echoing in the dead silent room. He hates me, I thought. I assumed he'd walk past me; I assumed the worst with constant ways that I'd get hurt again that day, my head overflowing, my heart beating wildly in my chest as if it were to jump out any moment and flop on the floor.

I held my breath when he stopped in front of me, I almost thought he would hit me, maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to judge him. Breathing in, he wrapped his arms around me, me resting my face on his shoulder, tears staining his work shirt as my hands laid limply at my sides.

"Please don't hate me."

"J, I might not understand it but I'm not gonna hate you for it..." Letting go, he held me at an arms length, his grip resting on my shoulders as he looked straight at me, seeing as we were almost eye level. "What kind of father would I be if I told you not to be happy?"

It was silent and I sucked in a sharp breath, my mother fallen silent. It was getting close to the time he had to leave, that much was obvious by the way he went to reach for his briefcase as soon as we pulled apart.

I should've waited, should've done this at dinner instead but now we were standing here and I had to face my mother alone, she'd never been one to bite her tongue.

I let out a weak laugh, my father's eyes straying down to his watch, "sorry to cut this family time short but I'll be late if I don't hurry..." picking up his briefcase, he took a glance at my mother that informing me that later they'd end up fighting.

My father was a lawyer which made him even more defensive. I heard his footsteps before the door opened, a jingle of keys, and then the door closing as he stepped out and left me with the person who evoked all of these pre- breakdown emotions.

I stood there in silence, my mother not daring to say a word to follow my father's dramatic acceptance speech and all I could hear was my own shallow breathing.

"Carrie is a perfectly nice girl, Julian, she's right." She emphasized, not sparing a glance at me and I could see what my sister meant when she said Mom was judgmental. She'd never really been that way to me, Jade always took the brunt of it.

But now she was sitting here, disregarding something that felt so important to me and she wouldn't even look at me.  "It would do you some good to remember that."

"I'm sorry-" I tucked shaking hands into my jeans. Trying to soften the blow, I went for a smile that she didn't see. "This doesn't change anything, you know, I'm still me."

"It doesn't change anything because it's not happening."

"Mom..."

"You do know you're going to Hell if you keep on with this disgraceful behavior, right? God didn't intend for people to be running around with their same sex, he made a man and a woman for a reason."

I was going to Hell, according to her.

And it hurt just as she intended it to; she's trying to scare me. At least that's what I told myself as I started to freak out about the possibility of going to Hell. She's not God, she doesn't know what he intended.

"This- This is ridiculous, Julian. This isn't you-"

"It is." I tried to say without my voice cracking, oh what a struggle that was.

"No it's not. You've been brainwashed by the things you see on TV and the people at that school; I knew I shouldn't have sent you there in the first place."

The entire situation was escalating way too much, way too fast.

She was pacing now, her hands over her mouth as she thought over her parenting method. She was treating this like I was a criminal of some sort; like I robbed a bank instead of realizing my sexuality. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God." she kept repeating, shaking her head, her eyes glazing over. She didn't get it, she didn't know how hard it is to grow up in her house being different than what she assumed 'God intended.'

"Mom, you don't understand-"

Spinning around, her blonde hair flew wildly as her eyes widened at me and she breathed in sharply. She looked at me like she was ready to slap me if I didn't shut up, her fists shaking at her sides, "No, I don't! I don't understand why my son believes he's gay! Did I not raise you right?"

Did I not raise you right? She thought that me not being straight implied that I wasn't raised properly, that this was just a defect, that I chose to be this way.

At that time, I found that staying silent was for the best as I stared down at my feet, digging my hand in my pocket and wrapping my fingers around my keys. Willing myself to move my feet and walk away before she or I lost it, I closed my eyes before opening them again and staring back at the staircase wishing dad would appear again. I was on the verge of tears again and holding them back would've been easier if my father was there to calm her down.

"Did I not make you spend enough time in Sunday school?"

I sighed, "Mom..."

I felt her bony finger poke me in the chest, no doubt she was angry and no doubt she was lashing out, "Don't 'mom' me, you're a sin. You're sick, Julian!"

And that was when my restraint snapped, tears pivoting down my cheeks as I wiped at my face harshly and quickly. The venom in her voice, the way she wanted to hurt me and force me to believe in her completely pessimistic views. I couldn't stop my face from contorting into one of pain as my mother stood there, a sympathetic look slowly overcoming her face,

Way to further the stereotype of gay guys being fucking wimps.

Willing my tear ducts to stop filling up an ocean, I closed my eyes like dams and shook my head at myself, "This was stupid... So freaking stupid." I muttered before gritting my teeth, risking a glance at my mother's defeated face and turns for the door.

"You need help, Julian. This isn't healthy."

And with that, I headed towards the door leaving and heaving down the steps one by one each cutting at a piece of me as I repeatedly replayed her words and facial expressions until there was nothing left of me except a raw beating pain inside me.

A/N:
the first chapter is always the worst.
I hope you like it, anyways; I've wanted to do this for a while now.
Updated: Sun, Jan. 18