COMPATIBLE [Unedited]

VI

NealLightwood prompt: include gay and asexual stereotypes.

The front door swings open and I step quietly inside, removing the spare key I'd retrieved from under the doormat from the lock. The house is pitch black, but familiar nonetheless. I traipse quietly as possible across the landing and into the kitchen, only flipping on the light when I know I'm the only one awake.

Light spills across the kitchen walls. Nothing has changed since this morning - same table, same chairs, same cupboards, all the same - yet I'm hit with a rush of comfort. I take a minute just to breathe, to rub my eyes and remind myself why I'm here, before pulling open a cupboard and taking out the first ready-to-eat food item I see. I wolf it down at a chair whilst my exhausted brain tries to tick over what on Earth I'm supposed to do next.

Staying for the night would be a massive risk. If Mum and Dad find me in the morning, who knows what they'd do? Probably just turn me back in, part of me thinks, which makes my heart sink because it's true. Any daughter who does what I did would never be seen to deserve her parents' help.

I finish the food in my hand, stomach still scorchingly empty and eyelids heavier than ever. Sitting down is a bad idea... I stand up and pace the kitchen, trying desperately not to pass out. Staying here tonight is definitely off the cards, then, but then where do I turn? Do I surrender to face my punishment? Do I seek refuge with strangers? Do I just keep moving until I reach a place where nobody knows my name? A million different scenarios play out in front of me like disconnected dreams, none of which I fully register. I'm too tired to think. Eventually I sit back at the chair, trying to keep my brain alert, counting up as far as I can in a desperate attempt to keep myself focused and awake. I think I only get as far as twenty-five when my eyelids finally fall and the softness of the dark envelopes me in its gentle numbness.

••••••••

I'm awoken by the sound of a smash.

My head jerks straight up, searching in disorientation for the source of the noise. My glassed-over eyes focus on the figure at the door under the lights. Dad.

"Archie?" he mutters, voice quivering.

His hands are frozen in place in front of him as if holding something, and on the floor is the shattered remains of a mug. I survey him for a minute, trying to piece together what to say.

"You shouldn't be here." Dad seems to have the same problem. "I - your mum will be up soon - she's - yeah."

"It's fine, I'll leave," I reply with a heavy sigh, standing up to go.

"No - wait, wait," Dad interrupts, placing a hand on my shoulder to stop me. He keeps it there as he speaks. "Don't go just yet. At least get some food down you and tell me why you're here."

"To be honest, I'm not even sure how it happened myself."

"So you weren't officially released?" His grip tightens a little. "You are guilty?"

I look at the floor, nodding slowly.

"And with Via?"

Another nod.

Dad steps back, taking a huff, as if he needs some space to process this. I open my mouth to apologise - but then, why should I?

"Did you - ever-?" He makes this awkward little gesture with his hands and I roll my eyes.

"No, Dad, it was never like that. I only found out it was mutual on the night of the Ceremony."

"Ah. Good." Apparently he thinks irrelevant questions are the way forward, because then he says, "Which one of you is the guy in the relationship?"