Outcast

Birthday Boys: Chapter 4: May 2nd

The sun shone brightly on a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

The storm from the previous days cleared away as the clouds dispersed to an open sky and warm weather.

Pico kept his stride quick, a pale and tired gaze locked onto the sidewalk. His usual pattern of traveling a memorized path at this time every week.

Abnormally, the ginger raised a hand to rub at a tired eye, stifling a yawn as he slowed his pace slightly. He didn't get a wink of sleep the previous night at all. Ever since he mentioned a heartfelt "goodnight" to his aqua-haired crush, he couldn't get any rest. He would get an hour or two at the very least, and that would hold him over until the next night. However, his anxiety prevented him from actually getting any sleep.

Pico was extraordinarily nervous about today. Keith seemed to be really excited during their walk from school the previous day. The taller male would boast about how 'amazing' he would look with earrings, and that forced an embarrassing flush to spread across his neck in response. He was openly curious on what color that the smaller male would choose, asking directly after. The ginger didn't have an answer, sadly. He meekly shifted his shoulders up with a soft smile.

He could have sworn that every time that he would give off a look of happiness, the older boy would react fondly. It seemed to brighten up those emerald eyes tremendously, and that would make his own heart flutter into his stomach. He couldn't help it. Keith was always striving to put a smile on his face, and he usually succeeded. The taller male, most of the time, never needed to try. Just seeing his salvation incarnate was enough to enlighten his dark life.

His visions and voices seemed to be frightened of the aquamarine boy. As soon as he would see or hear his savior, they would vanish without a trace. He never understood how or why. However, he would take full advantage of their absence while being in the presence of the boy who held his heart. It was a double hitter for him, and the dose was overwhelming. Not only were his tormentors at bay, but the man of his dreams was with him.

As much as he adored the taller boy, he knew that it was a futile love. To his happiness, or dismay, Keith was a very touchy individual. The hugs he would give every single time they greeted was something that Pico, very much, looked forward to. The ache of longing that he felt was all too familiar at this point.

It wasn't new that he felt out of place with his sexuality. He felt like an iniquitous and an unholy atrocity in the eyes of his family. When he was younger, that unwholesome feeling of shame would constantly haunt him. He tried to engage with his friends at his other school about the opposite sex, but to no avail. He had no feelings for them.

It was so terrible at times, the guilt, that a young and confused Pico would sit in the corner of his room crying. The struggle to understand why he felt the way he does would never fully comprehend. His father wasn't religious but was completely against anything that wasn't straight. He would overhear his parent talk disgustingly about events or situations happening with shows or whatnot that involved a gay person. It would spring a deep fear in his chest at the conversations. It would get worse when he drinks.

Pico has never been beaten by his father. He has laid a hand on him before, though. Not enough to make him go unconscious, but it did leave a mark. It would be simple bruises or redness, always does go away after a few days. Those situations would only occur when his father drinks and he was upset. To his luck, if he manages to hide in his room and not go downstairs, he could easily avoid it.

His younger years were always filled with dread on that front. He still remembers the terror that would fill his entire body when he heard his father yelling downstairs and throw things around the house after his drunken fits. Pico would hide in his closet wrapped in a blanket to cover himself. He would sit and listen to the screaming downstairs, flinching at the sounds of smashing and glass shattering against the walls. That was years ago.