Zustin - A new start

I don't go to parties

Justin's POV:

The weekend passes in a blur. Noelle and I spend most of it outside, soaking up the sun. One afternoon, we hit the playground, and Noelle immediately clicks with a little boy named Jack, who is about her age. They tear around the place as if they've known each other forever, playing non-stop for nearly two hours. Meanwhile, I strike up a conversation with Jack's mom, Lauren. She's older than me—most parents are—but we get along surprisingly well. We even swap numbers to arrange more playdates since Noelle can't stop talking about her new "best friend."

The next day, we visit their home. Lauren is 25, married to her wife, Melissa. They've been together for three years, and their house is, honestly, really nice. Usually, I feel out of place around other parents, especially given my age of 18. It's as if people see me and immediately think I have no idea what I'm doing. But with Lauren and Melissa, it's different. They don't judge me or treat me like a kid. We connect.

That night, after Noelle and Jack finally crash on the couch, I open up to Lauren and Melissa. I talk about my life, how I ended up here alone with Noelle, and why I had to leave my hometown. They actually listen, really listen, and don't look at me like I'm some kind of screw-up. It feels amazing.

Eventually, I find the courage to say something I've only said once before—the thing that's been gnawing at me for so long. "I'm gay," I blurt out, staring at the floor as my heart pounds in my chest.

They exchange glances, then turn back to me with big smiles. Lauren reaches over and hugs me, and I swear I've never felt safer. I start to tear up as I share everything—how I was outed, the bullying, the insults I faced in hallways and on the streets, and how I couldn't let Noelle grow up in that kind of environment.

They don't just listen—they understand. They share their own experiences with homophobia, talking about how they still sometimes feel nervous holding hands in public. It's both beautiful and sad, and for the first time in a long time, I don't feel so alone.

We talk until after midnight, not even realizing how late it's gotten. Eventually, I carry Noelle to her stroller, and we head home. She doesn't wake up when I put her in bed, and I barely make it to my own bed before I pass out, completely drained.

The alarm goes off way too soon, and I feel like dying. How am I supposed to survive a whole school day on just five hours of sleep? I drag myself through the morning—waking Noelle, getting her dressed, feeding her, and dropping her off at kindergarten. Everything feels automatic, like I'm not really there.

At school, I make a beeline for the cafeteria and grab the worst cup of coffee ever, but I don't care. I need something to keep me going. I meet up with Kendall and some other friends, and we go through the usual "how was your weekend?" routine. I don't say much—only Zayn knows about Noelle, and I'm not planning on changing that.

Speaking of Zayn, I start wondering where he is. Should I try to find him? Nah, what's the point? But before I can overthink it, Kendall pokes me in the face, snapping me back to reality. The bell rings, and we all scatter to our classes.

In English, I sit next to Liam. He waves, and I try to keep my eyes open, but I'm seriously struggling. Liam nudges me every time I start to doze off, and by the time class ends, he's laughing at how out of it I am.

"Tough weekend?" he asks, smirking.

I shrug and force a smile, not wanting to go into it. When he jokingly asks who I've been "banging" all weekend, I feel myself wake up a bit. "No one. Just catching up on homework since I'm still adjusting to the new school." It's a lie, I was done with the homework before I even started.

He laughs it off, and I quickly change the subject, asking if he had fun hanging out with Zayn over the weekend. But then he hits me with, "Huh? No, we didn't hang out. I went out of town with my family."

That stings more than I expected. Zayn had lied about hanging out with Liam, and for some reason, it really hurts. But why should it? He's just a classmate, right?

History class is awkward. Zayn and I work on our project, but it's not like last week when we joked around and talked about random stuff. This time, it's all business. He tries to make small talk, but I'm just not in the mood. When the bell rings, I bolt out of there, but Zayn catches up to me in the hallway, grabbing my hand. The second our skin touches, it's like fireworks—intense and confusing all at once. I pull away, but Zayn isn't letting this go.

"What the hell is going on with you?" he asks, clearly frustrated.

"I—" I start, but my phone rings, cutting me off. It's the kindergarten, calling to tell me Noelle has scraped her knee.

"I have to go pick up Noelle, but I think if we just focus we can get the project done by working in class. And if not, I'll just finish it myself, alright? So we don't have to hang out after school again." The words feel like acid in my mouth, but I force them out

Zayn's face falls, and for a split second, I think he looks genuinely hurt. But I can't think about that. I have to go.

When I get to the kindergarten, Noelle runs to me, her little face crumpled with tears. I scoop her up and hug her tight, reassuring her that everything is okay. I promise her ice cream to make her feel better, which cheers her up instantly. The teacher apologizes for the accident, but I wave it off. Shit happens, and I know how fast Noelle can be.

On the way home, we stop at the grocery store to pick up some things—and, of course, ice cream. As I'm checking out, I see Zayn in one of the aisles, and my heart nearly stops. I try to avoid him, but Noelle has other plans.

"ZAYN!" she screams, making sure everyone in the store knows who she's yelling at.

I try to get out of there fast, but Zayn catches up to us in the parking lot. He slams the car door shut before I can get in, and the look on his face is all kinds of pissed off.

"What the fuck, Justin?" he almost shouts.

I try to play it cool. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Why the hell are you ignoring me? What changed since Friday?" he demands, his voice rising with every word.

"You know, Zayn, I know I'm not very fun to be around. I prioritize my daughter over everything and everyone in this world. I can't go out and drink, smoke, and party on weekends. On Friday nights, instead of partying, I cook dinner for Noelle and me. Then we watch Bluey on Disney+ while eating ice cream, and then it's bedtime for Noelle. After that, I have a few hours to myself. During that time, I handle bills, coordinate our schedules, make grocery lists, clean, and prepare meals. I only have about 3-4 hours to myself every day. The rest of the time is spent in school or with Noelle. I'm okay with that. It's my life, and it's been my life for more than two years. But I'm not asking anyone else to be okay with that. I understand you don't want to spend a Friday night eating dinner at 5pm and watching a TV show about a talking dog. The point is, I get that. I know you'd rather go to parties or hang out with Perrie or anyone else. But you don't need to lie to me to make me feel better. I know you didn't have plans with Liam last weekend, I know you didn't wanna stay, I get that, I really do. I wouldn't be upset or angry. I just don't appreciate or understand why you needed to lie." I say, almost out of breath from talking so much.