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...
“I made cookies.” Antony says as I walk into the living room, and my mouth drops open slightly. “I fucking burned them, though, so eat at your own risk.” He sniffled, before leading me into his room.
“I’ll eat them. I kinda like burnt food.” I tell him, and he turns around, grimacing at me.
“You’re fucking weird, man.” He laughs, and I close his bedroom door behind me, leaning on it. “Fernanda’s in her room, if you wanna say hi.” He tells me, but I shake my head.
“If she sees me, she’ll ask why I’m here.” I state as he sits on the end of his bed, pulling his hoodie off his body. My eyes wavered when they land on his toned body, and I find that I can’t look away. He’s so muscular and broad and tanned and beautiful and I felt it choke me as I stared at him, biting my bottom lip lightly.
Antony looked over at me, his eyes flickering all over my face and then down my body before lifting back up to my face. My mouth. My nose. My cheeks. My eyes. His gaze was so piercing and so fierce that it had a hold on me I didn’t even know. It felt like a lifeline. He tilts his head a little, his mouth parting slightly.
“Come here.” I hear him say, and his voice is so soft, yet hard-edged, and delicate. I take a step towards him, and another. He only watches me as I walk towards him, until I’m completely opposite him. Then, he stands up, and I lift my hand to slowly trace my fingers over his chest and his stomach. His breath hitches a little. I flatten my hand on his chest, and Antony’s hand is under my chin as he leans forward and kisses me softly. His fingers are running through my hair and I kiss him deeper, my hand dragging down until I reach the belt of his jeans.
I pull it, and Antony shudders against my lips, and it’s like the whole world was on the weight of my shoulders, but one kiss- one touch from Antony relieves all that pressure. He’s everything I need, but everything bad for me, all rolled into one person. One fucked up, utterly perfect human that I can’t get enough of him. He was pressing against my heart, looking for an entry, and I was on the edge of giving it to him, on the edge of letting him in and never letting him go when-
The door is flown open and Antony is cursing against my lips before he pushes me away, his hands on the belt holding up his jeans, but it’s too late. It’s too late because his father is standing at the door, his eyes blazing as he looks from me to Antony and back to me, once more. And they stay on me. I swallow the lump in my throat, and I feel like this is it.
This, Antony’s biggest fear. Being found out, and it’s becoming a reality right now. It’s coming alive in front of our very eyes, and I’m so very scared. I want to look over at him, gauge his reaction, but his father is storming towards me, gripping my jaw in between his fingers, and I wince in pain, leaning away from him. His breath fans my face, and my jaw clenches.
“Dad-” Antony begins.
“Cala a boca, Antony.” He snaps, and my eyes are wide. His gaze focuses back on me and I squeeze my eyes shut when I feel his fist on my nose. I stumble back, my hands instantly on my face. I know for sure, this time, that I’ve definitely broken something.
“Dad!” Antony yells once more, but that doesn’t stop his father from punching me again. My face is red and bloody and bruised and everything comes crashing down on me.
“You think you can do this homo shit in my house, huh?” He yells in my face as he lands another punch to my temple, and I lose my footing, crashing onto the ground near Antony’s bed before he punches me again, kicking me in my stomach. I groan in pain, but he’s then pulled away from me, and Antony drags him to the ground.
I shuffle back, my back against the wall as I hold my bruised ribs, wincing in pain. Antony’s dad lands punch after punch onto his son’s face as he tries to hold him back, but it won’t work. My eyes flicker to the door, and it almost makes me cry. Fernanda stood there, her eyes wide as tears fell down her cheek. Her eyes flickered to her dad and then to me, and her lips quivered. I try to get to my feet, but it’s too painful.
Everything hurts. My body. My head. My heart. I couldn’t do anything to help him. To stop his father from hurting him. I couldn’t do anything but watch as a man who believed that being gay was wrong for his whole life got beat up for that exact thing. And I couldn’t do anything but watch as he screamed and begged for his father to stop, but the abuse continued.
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