Y O U T H (scomiche)

homosexual tendencies

a/n: thelenajackson and I are writing a story together on her Wattpad called Life Left To Live. It's verrry scomiche and you should check it outtt. And we will see you later.

...

Scott left after about 45 minutes, helping me unpack my stuff. We figured it was best my parents didn't run into him. I decided to read a book in the living room so I could greet my parents right as they walked in the door.

"Mitchell!" My mother said happily as she walked through the door with my father. I gave her a hug, at least six inches taller than her, and she rubbed my back.

"The house was real quiet without you here, son." My dad pulled me into a hug as well, only four inches shorter than me.

"I'm making pizza for dinner, honey, what do you want on yours?" My mom said, walking into the kitchen. I followed her and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.

"Just extra cheese, please."

"You're a poet and you didn't even know-it!"

"Is that a new joke? I've never heard it before.".

"Oh, stop sassing me, boy!" She, lightly, hit me on the arm with a bag of flour and set it on the counter to start making the dough.

"Do you want help, ma?"

"I'll be just fine, thank you honey."

I walked into the living room and sat on the chair next to the couch, where my father sat. I took a sip of water and re-opened my book, not getting too into it as he would want to talk about the trip.

"So, what's your favorite part of Chicago?"

"I'd have to say the bean was pretty cool. Not to mention the Starbucks on every corner."

"Oh boy, you must be a gold member by now."

"I've been a gold member for two years, actually."

"Well look at you, boy." I allowed myself to laugh and went to my book.

About two hours later, dinner was on the table, and the only thing on my mind was stifling the sentence "mom and dad, I'm gay." I couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Just, say it, Mitch. Say it. "Hey, you guys, there's something important, well, not that important, 'cause I'm still your son, but, like, important to you guys, even though it shouldn't be. But, I'm really gay. Like, so, so gay. And Scott and I are lov-dating. We're dating."" My mother started to speak, interrupting my annoying thought process.

"Why, did you hear about Scott's cousin?"

"I don't believe so. Is he alright?" My father said.

"He's told his mother he's queer!"

"What does that mean? Queer can entail a lot of things." I added.

"He's said he's pansexual."

"Is the boy in love with kitchen utensils? Keep him away from Kohls!" My dad said with a mouthful of pizza.

"Oh, I've heard of that one. It's a bit more complicated than the others but, basically, you're attracted to, like, all genders, as opposed to one or two."

"So, he's a bisexual?" My mother said in a condescending voice.

"You know how people who are transgender don't really feel like the sex they were born in? Well, some people don't really feel like either, and they're in between, kind of."

"Oh, so he's attracted to, like, boys who think they're girls?" She said, still condescending.

"No, no, no. He's, like, I'll explain later." They both shrugged it off and went back to their meals.

"That still means the boy is attracted to men, it's against god, you know!" My mother waved and pointed her finger up in agreement.

"Well, you know that wearing clothes with mixed fabrics is also "against god"? And eating shrimp, and drinking alcohol, and having sex before marriage." I said, eyes not leaving my plate.

"Are you saying he approves of the gays?"

"I'm just saying that I'm sure the bible twists things sometimes." I took a bite of pizza, my heart racing. Neither of my parents really knew what to think of it and went back to their meals as well, exasperated.

"You know, I read an article today that said that god created AIDS to rid the world of gays. I know that's a bit far-fetched, but it makes a couple of fair points."

"What else did it say?" My mom added, slightly approving.

"Well, it talked about how a large majority of gay people are depressed and atheist, and without feeling like god is doing them any favors, they turn away in the best they know how. It's a sickness." My mom nodded in agreement. I felt a surge of energy go straight from the anger immediately formed in my brain to my heart, shoulders, neck, and form words

"STOP IT. JUST STOP. I'M SICK OF IT."

"Mitchell, take a deep breath." My mom tried to butt in while I held back tears in my eyes.

"NO. I'M SICK OF THIS. GAY PEOPLE AREN'T "SICK." ALRIGHT?"

I huffed and took my plate to the kitchen, nearly throwing it in the sink and busting into my room. I imagine my parents looking to each other at the dinner table like "well, what's his problem?" and threw my face into my pillow, unable to hold back tears. I grabbed my phone and texted Scott a heart emoji, convincing myself it would all be okay. I took a deep breath, wiped my eyes, and sat up on my bed. I stared at my door, almost waiting for my mom to bust in and say "is there something you'd like to tell us, dear?" Or something. I put my ear to the vent in an attempt to hear their conversation.

"-the boy is probably exhausted, you know? It's a fourteen hour flight from Chicago. Plus, who knows what could happen in the city. We should talk to him, see if it rekindled his homosexual tendencies. I don't know, it's worth a try." I heard my mother loading the dishwasher as my father talked.

"I don't know, Mike, the boy is still our son. He could be a mass murderer, and I would still love him and check that he's changing his underwear."

"At least mass murderers are stabbing people instead of partaking in gay sex." The anger surged again, and I yelled down the vent.

"DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF WHEN YOU TALK?"