Hopelessly Obsessed (KomaHina)

21: The Way Things Are

Hajime's POV:

Quite a few days have passed since the fight with my parents. Five, to be exact. I didn't tell anyone what happened. I took down the bi flag (again) and tried to avoid my parents. Or rather, my father.

A few hours after I ran off to my room, my mother came in. "Hajime," she had said, "I'm so, so sorry. I tried to talk to him, I really did. It's just...after you stayed at your friend's house...he asked me who the friend was...I should've known. I should've said it was a girl. But I didn't know he'd take it like this. I'm really sorry." I just mumbled a "Whatever," and tried to hide my tears.

On the Saturday morning, my father was out when I left my room to go to the bathroom and get food. When he came back, he asked me how I was feeling as if I was sick. And that fucking stung. I just ignored him and walked away.

For the days that followed, I avoided my father completely. I had to be home straight after school because I was grounded, so I was barely talking to my friends. They noticed, but I just told them I was grounded. When they asked why I just said I didn't know. That was easier than admitting the truth. That I'm...I'm...

Nagito noticed too. I love him, I love him so much, but every time I look at him I feel so guilty. Every time I want to hold his hand or just hold him I feel guilty. Every time I want to kiss him I feel guilty. I've been a bit distant, too. Still spending time together in private but I think he's noticed. And I know it's probably worrying him but...

I did try to avoid my father, but last night...

Flashback:

I sit my bed and idly swipe through my feed on my phone. I'm just trying to distract myself. I don't want to think about anything right now. I just started to forget about things when someone suddenly opens my door (without knocking).

"Hey there, Hajime."

As soon as I hear the voice, I freeze. I look up and meet my father's eyes. "How're you feeling?" He sits next to me and rests his hand on my forehead, as if checking for a fever. I slap his hand away and hiss "Piss off."

"Oh, we're using less colourful language this time, are we?"

"Fine. Fuck off."

"That wasn't an invitation to speak to me like that. I don't care if you're sick, you can still lose more of your privileges." His voice was cold and sharp. I wish he would just yell. It'd be less scary.

"For the last time, " The anger in my voice starts to rise, "I. Am. Not. Sick."

"Hajime, you probably just have a testosterone deficiency. Your estrogen levels are too high and its affecting your sexuality. You're feeling more like a woman does. But that's fixable."

"What? Where did you even get that from?"

"Science."

"Well, if you want to talk about science," I inch away from my father, feeling uncomfortable, "then several different animal species have gay and bisexual or pansexual animals. Their job is to look after the orphaned and abandoned baby animals because they heterosexual couples are too busy making their own babies to care for them."

He blinks and looks at me blankly. "I fail to see how likening yourself to an animal proves that you aren't sick."

"Being queer isn't a sickness!"

"Of course not. It's a symptom. A curable one."

"Go fuck yourself."

My father stands up with an aggravated huff. "You're not having dinner tonight."