Dark Grey

Chapter 7: The Invitation

After school on Monday, I walked alongside Ella, trying to shake off the tension from the day. The familiar routine of dodging insults and cruel whispers from Jake and his friends had drained me, even though the week had just started. I was almost on autopilot, barely listening as Ella chatted beside me. But then my phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I glanced at the screen and saw Jimmy’s name. I quickly answered, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, Jae!” Jimmy’s voice was cheerful. “You doing anything this weekend?”

“Not really. Why?” I replied, curious but cautious.

“There’s this big house party on Saturday night. I got invited and can bring someone. Thought you might want to come?”

A party. I wasn’t much for crowds. But Jimmy sounded excited, and a part of me didn’t want to disappoint him. “I don’t know, Jimmy. I’m not really into parties.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We can hang out, grab some drinks, and if it gets too much, we can bail. Please?”

I hesitated, glancing at Ella, who was watching me intently. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Great! Just let me know. It starts at 9 p.m. this Saturday.”

When I hung up, Ella’s eyes were practically glowing. “Was that Jimmy? What did he want?”

I nodded, feeling a bit of excitement mixed with nervousness. “He invited me to a party this weekend.”

Ella gasped, grabbing my arm. “You *have* to go! It’ll be good for you, Jae. A chance to just have some fun.”

Before I could respond, the school doors opened, and Jake emerged with his girlfriend and his group of friends. They spotted me immediately, and the sneers on their faces made my stomach twist.

“Oh look, the loser’s still hanging around,” one of Jake’s friends sneered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jake’s eyes locked on mine, his smirk widening. “Planning to hit up any gay bars this weekend, Jae? Maybe you’ll actually find someone desperate enough.”

I looked away, the words stinging more than I wanted to admit. Ella clenched her fists, ready to say something, but I shook my head. It wouldn’t help.

“Come on, Jake, let’s go,” his girlfriend said, pulling him away with a laugh.

They walked past us, their laughter fading into the distance. I exhaled, trying to push down the shame that threatened to choke me.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Ella said softly, her voice filled with concern.

“I won’t,” I whispered, though the words felt like a lie.

By the time I got home, the house was eerily quiet. My father was gone, but the lingering smells of cigarettes, alcohol, and weed hung in the air like a suffocating fog. I made my way to my room, hoping to find some semblance of peace.

But when I opened the door, I froze. The family picture on my desk was shattered, the glass splintered and the frame cracked. It was from my primary school enrollment, back when we all seemed happy—when things were still normal. I stared at the broken image, my heart aching with a longing for a past that no longer existed.

Carefully, I picked up the pieces, my hands shaking slightly. I managed to fix the frame enough to hold the picture, though the broken glass was a painful reminder of everything I’d lost. I placed it back on my desk and stood there for a moment, the weight of it all pressing down on me.

Needing a distraction, I turned to my closet and began sorting through my clothes. The party was still five days away, but the thought of it was a small flicker of light in an otherwise dark week. Maybe, just maybe, this could be a chance to forget everything, even if just for one night.

As I picked out an outfit, the lingering thoughts of Jake’s cruelty and the memories of the day gnawed at the back of my mind. But I pushed them away. For once, I wanted to focus on something good—something that didn’t involve pain or heartbreak.

I spent the next hour pulling clothes out of my closet, tossing them onto my bed in a colorful heap. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this, something simple and normal to focus on. With each new outfit, I felt a little lighter, as if the weight of the day was slowly lifting off my shoulders.

I tried on a dark blue shirt first, but it felt too plain, too much like something I’d wear to school. Next came a white button-up, but that felt too formal. I wanted something in between—something that made me feel good, made me feel like I was more than just the guy everyone made fun of.

Then, at the bottom of my drawer, I found it. A black sweater, soft to the touch, with a slight shimmer woven into the fabric. It wasn’t anything flashy, but it hugged my frame just right, accentuating my small figure without making me feel exposed. I paired it with my best jeans, the ones that actually fit me well, and stood in front of the mirror.

For a moment, I just stared. The person looking back at me didn’t seem like the same Jae who usually avoided mirrors, who hated the reflection he saw every morning. The sweater made my dark curls stand out more, and my brown eyes seemed brighter, more alive.

I leaned in closer, examining my face. The usual self-critical thoughts began to creep in—my nose was too big, my lips too thin, my skin too pale. But then, I took a step back, forcing myself to see the bigger picture.

And for the first time, I saw it.

I was beautiful.

I had always been told I was ugly, worthless, nothing more than a piece of trash. The cruel words of my father, Jake, and the others echoed in my mind, but they didn’t hold as much power right now. Not when I looked at myself like this.

I reached out, brushing my fingers against the mirror’s surface as if trying to connect with the person on the other side. The person who was me, but someone I hadn’t seen before. Or maybe someone I had buried so deep that I’d forgotten they existed.

A small, hesitant smile tugged at my lips. I wasn’t sure if this feeling would last, if this newfound sense of self-worth would survive the next encounter with Jake or the next outburst from my father. But for now, in this moment, I allowed myself to believe it.

I allowed myself to believe that I wasn’t the ugly, broken person they all said I was.

Maybe I wasn’t perfect, and maybe I never would be. But as I stood there, in that simple black sweater, I felt something close to pride. I felt like I was worth something, like I had something to offer.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t just tolerate the reflection in the mirror.

I liked it.

With a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and carefully folded the outfit, placing it on my chair. I was already excited for Saturday, even though it was still days away. The thought of the party and spending time with Jimmy felt like a promise of something good—something different.

As I lay down on my bed, my mind still buzzing from the evening, I clung to that feeling. It was fragile, like a delicate thread of hope, but it was mine. And I wasn’t ready to let it go.