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In this moment, brief and fleeting as it is, he’s not just some kid, not some stranger. And I’m not some jaded alcoholic, fourteen years his senior, pissed off at the goddamn world.
We’re just two lost souls, trapped in this hell masquerading as paradise, banished from the outside world, looking for a way out. He sees me, and I see him, and it’s…
And by favorite, I mean I’d rather take a fork to my testicles than be forced to socialize and pretend I care about things like perfecting my doggy downward whatever the fuck.
And today especially…I definitely want to say no. But then I look across the room, see that kid’s dark eyes staring back at me, lips parted, and I find myself speaking before I can think better of it.
In my head, I’m cracking open a little orange pill bottle. One by one, I wash it down with a bottle of my father’s expensive vodka. It burns, but I’m already on fire. Burning for my sins, just like Pastor Gabriel told me I would.
oh my poor baby
That’s all anyone ever does. They only see themselves. They see the truth they want to believe in. Or… They look away.
I follow his gaze to the faint bruises and marks along the inner sides of my arms. Track marks. They’ve faded for the most part, but a couple scarred over thanks to Pastor Marcus, who clearly did not know how to find a vein.
And that—realizing just how wrong I was about him after all—well, that just fucking guts me.
I am stronger than I was, stronger than these storms that plague me, and I will not let this place break me. I will not let stupid, sexy, grumpy men who speak cruel, ignorant words be another thing that tears me down He doesn’t know me. They don’t know me.
No one does. I survived death, and I can survive this too.
Skyler. It’s a unique name, especially for a boy. It’s… pretty. But so is he, so I suppose it fits him.
He stares at me, that glimmer in his eyes pulling at me once more. All I can do is stare back, begging silently for some kind of…I don’t know, solution. It makes no sense, and yet I just…fuck, I hate this for him. I don’t even know him, not really, but hell, if I don’t feel protective of this kid, enraged at the idea of someone locking this boy away and for what?
His lips twist together, eyes lowering to peek out from under his thick lashes. And I feel a great sinking in my chest. Like someone just pulled the rug out from under me, and I’m here falling, flailing, lost to…to something I can’t name. Hell, if he doesn’t look so young in this moment. Young and innocent and just… screaming for someone to swoop in and save the day. And oh how that reaches right into my chest, pulverizing me.
“Nolan?” he says quietly. My eyes slide shut as all sorts of thoughts and urges fire off inside me. What…what is this… I don’t understand… I don’t…
GAY PANIC
Just once I wish someone would see me for me, beyond all my issues. Beyond my age. I just want someone to take me seriously.
