"I should hate it but I can't!"
"Son, calm down, you'll hurt yourself."
"I want to hate it, Prem! I want to!"
Prem grabbed hold of Son's wrists, pulling his arms away from his head because if Son was to pull harder, Prem was afraid he'd go bald.
"I want to hate it, Prem; it shouldn't be in here in the first place!" Son sobbed, face blotchy and red. Tears seemed to stream out of his eyes in never ending streaks and Prem really wanted to take the pain away, ease Son from all his worries.
"It is not your fault if you feel that way, Son."
"Don't you get it, Prem?"
Thunder blasted outside their poorly dimmed flat. The way the storm brewed outside, how fast it was to cover the rays of the sun, blanketing the little town with its dark clouds - Prem didn't have the time to turn on the appropriate lighting. So when a strike of lightning hits, the millisecond of light produced showed how distraught the crying boy that was in front of him was.
It accentuated the misery on Son's face.
"I can't hate it. I'm supposed to hate it-this baby inside of me-because it was made without my permission when it's my body! But I- I can't."
"Oh, Son-"
"I loved the baby from before, the child of one of those men in white- so how how was I supposed to hate the child that's half of the man I love?"
The sentence, created by a 15 year old that has pieces of broken memories that its shard shreds to every inch of his soul and no longer having the innocence he once had, it made Son seemed older than he was, than he'll ever be. But nonetheless, that sentence made perfect sense to Prem because at the end of the day, Son loves Perth. Despite everything, he hated what Perth had done, that monster Perth was at that time in the back seat of a car, yet, he loves him, that other Perth, the one that took a good care of him - the one who was weak and succumbed to his own demons.
If it made sense, Son loves 90% of Perth, and the 10% was the Perth that raped him the one Son hates.
Prem could only imagine what Son's feelings were. The torture his had to endure, mentally and physically. The two divisions of what his heart tells him and what his brain does too. Son was torn, Prem could see that, and that was way Prem felt at that moment he could murder his own mate for what he had done to Son.
"You shouldn't suffer for what he has done, Son, it's unfair."
"It's unfair, it's unfair" Son repeated, now finding his way into Prem's arms, his face to the other lad's chest. Prem held his tongue, he wanted to say things to make Son feel better but somehow he couldn't find the right words. So he just kept Son close as the boy cried the whole night, till he tire himself and fell asleep.
It was truly unfair.
••••••
He didn't feel like eating or talking or even waking up for that matter. All he wanted to do was lie in bed, sleep and wake up finding Son by his side. Son would the almost too gracefully flutter his eyelids open, revealing the most clear blue eyes Perth had ever seen. And when the gaze of those blue orbs fell upon him, Perth would gently plant his lips onto Son's as his heart melt with the presence of the one he loves.
Love. Yes. Love.
Perth was in love, madly in fact with a person he might never be allowed to see again. To hold, to kiss, to spend a lifetime with him - never would it happen because of his mistake.
It was a shame for him to realise too little too late. It was a shame that Perth had to hurt him first, felt his own heart break as Son's shattered into pieces. Remembering the day he had destroyed whatever hope he had with Son, having it repeatedly being played inside his head. He just wanted to wake up finding everything was a nightmare, but it wasn't. So when Perth woke up, cold and lonely with the thought that he had hurt his lovely Son - Perth wanted to die.
