Tw: internalized homophobia

I'm sorry. This is going to be weird. Just... I have a reason.

Roman went to a cafe.

He sat in the sparkly chair.

A waitress brought him some cake.

"Thank you."

He ate the cake.

He wanted some toast.

He got up stiffly.

He walked over to the toast and picked it up.

He ate toast.

He left the cafe.

He went to the store.

There was a pretty shirt there.

"This will match my eyes."

He grabbed the shirt.

Someone walked into the store.

"Who are you?" Roman asked, holding his pretty shirt.

"I am Virgil, the savior of the cookies of... Sugary Deliciousness."

Roman liked his pretty shirt. 

This savior was pretty, too.

He was so pretty. Roman thought he was really pretty.

But he was a guy.

Roman was male, and guys like girls.

Girls are supposed to be pretty.

But this savior was so pretty.

Girls weren't pretty.

Guys were!

Roman and Virgil and the shopkeeper collapsed.

Patton cried into his knees as he dropped his dolls.

He didn't know why, but guys are pretty, and acting it out with his dolls only made him realize there was something wrong.

Girls were supposed to be pretty. And yet guys were the ones who were.

He knew he should tell his parents, but he didn't want to be broken.

What if he was beyond repair?

The wooden dolls also thought guys were pretty.

They also wanted to wear dresses and spin around.

They also wanted those makeup kits and those pretty shoes.

They also thought guys were pretty.

The dolls were his friends.

Roman and Virgil were his friends.

They understood.

They also wanted to be a pretty guy.

They thought guys were pretty, just like him.

They were also broken, and they were happy that way.

He didn't want to tell his father that guys were pretty.

What if he took away the dolls?

The little wooden figures were all he had, and he needed them.

They were his friends, and he wouldn't let anything happen to them.

But his father needed to know. He could fix Patton.

Girls could be... pretty.

Even though that was a word Patton only thought about guys.

He hid his dolls and went to tell his father.

He found him in the living room.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Am I broken?"

Thomas scanned Patton up and down.

He didn't see anything wrong.

He tickled Patton's feet.

Patton giggled.

"Nothing wrong there."

He tickled Patton's stomach.

Patton laughed.

"I don't think you're broken."

"But... that's not what I'm saying."

"What are you saying?"

"Am I broken here?"

Patton tapped his head.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Because..." Patton looked at his feet. He was scared.

"Guys are pretty."

Thomas laughed. "Yes, they are."

Patton smiled at him.

"Am I pretty?"

Thomas gave him a thorough look, even though he already knew the answer.

"You're very pretty, Pat."

Patton giggled. He loved his father.

"Why do they say girls are pretty?"

"Some people think they are."

"Why do they say that I shouldn't think guys are pretty, and I'm broken for thinking that?"

Thomas's gaze hardened.

"If they say that, then they are broken. Don't think there is anything wrong with you. You're pretty, Patton."

"Thank you!"

Patton went to tell his dolls. He wanted them to know that they could be pretty, too.