Coming to terms with his sexuality, Theodore Moore is a seventeen year old who is just about getting by. He makes minimum wage and has aspiring, out-of-reach dreams to become a lawyer.
Violent and aggressive, Antony Barbosa is everything wrong with...
“How’s Fernanda?” Tom asked me as I threw myself onto my bed, and I rolled my eyes, pulling the duvet over my body and ignoring him. I hear him huff in annoyance, but I close my eyes and turn away, facing the wall. “Theodore, man, stop being a dick. Just answer me, man.” He grumbles, but I don’t say anything. “Theo.” He sounded fed up, and I felt a pillow whack my head.
I quickly turn around, shuffling to the end of the bed and staring up at him. “What?” I snapped, and he blinked at me. “What’s your problem?” I shook my shoulders at him. He licked his bottom lip.
“I just wanted to know-”
“Goddamn it, Thomas, how many times do I have to tell you that she’s not into you? How many times does Fernanda have to tell you that she doesn’t want to shag you? Get it inside your fucking brain that your feelings are one-sided, then you can fucking ask how she is, alright?” I snap at him, and he blinks at me, his mouth parting slightly. I grumble under my breath before laying back down, staring at the bottom of the bunk on top of me.
“Jesus, what’s up your arse?” He asked, and I heard him shuffle a little on the bed. “I just asked a question, you little wanker.”
“You know, Tom, sometimes it pisses me off that you expect complete honesty from me and practically forced me to tell you about Antony, but when it comes to you, I have to mind my Goddamn business.” I finally confess, huffing and placing my hands underneath my head. “How is that fair?”
“It’s fair because I’m older.” He chuckles, and I roll my eyes. “No, seriously, what’s up with you? Antony beat you up again?”
“None of your beeswax.”
“Beeswax? What are you, twelve?” He laughs, but all the humour of the day has run out. I can only act and pretend for a certain amount of time before I even get fed up. I’m so sick of this. Sick of sneaking around and tripping around the word gay when I’m out in public. It fucking sucks. It sucks not being able to be open about it and tell the whole world that this is me and I’m not fucking changing for anyone.
I want people to accept me for me and don’t try to hide me from myself. “Tom.” I say quietly, and I get his silence in response. “Do you accept me?” I ask him, and the silence resonates through the room for a minute before Thomas replies to me.
“Yeah, man, you’re my brother. Of course I accept you.” He tells me, and I blink away my tears. “Even if I didn’t, who the fuck cares what I think?” He scoffs, but I gulp. Thomas is my older brother. He’s always been there for me, and I don’t think I’d have it any other way, without him by my side. He was always there when I was bullied by the year sixes when I was in infant school, and he’s here for me now. So, yeah. I care what he thinks. “You’re your own man, Theodore. Yeah, I’m telling you not to shout it from the fucking rooftops that you’re gay, but that’s to protect you, not because I hate you.”
“It kinda feels like that.” I mumble.
“Shut up, man. In this house, you can be as gay as you like, mate. No one here is going to stop you. Just… out there… on them streets, they’re not as kind. They’re not as understanding, and you know that. You’ve seen what these people are like ,and if you and Antony are fucking kissing or holding hands and shit, they’ll skin you both alive. Take my word for it, Theo. I’ve seen the worst, and I promised myself that I'd never let you see them.” He told me, and I swallowed the lump in my throat, wiping away the one tear that escaped down my cheek.
“Thank you, man.” I sniffled, and Thomas laughed, the sound bouncing off of the walls.
“For what?”
“For everything, I don’t know. For being my brother.”
“Yeah, I didn’t fucking ask for it, but… whatever, man. I’m here for you, you know that.”
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
