invisible ; malum [completed]

26

a/n: italics may be triggering

and i know it says michael's 18, i changed it in the beginning, so mikey's 18 and cal's 17, but it's legal because it's only two months different.

by the way it's still the same day (saturday) here, but like the afternoon.

» michael

I didn't want to leave Calum and return home, but I knew I would have to eventually. He is just so fun to be around; he's one of those people who can just make you crack a smile, even if you are feeling like the whole world is on your shoulders and crushing you in an imposing manner.

At the moment, I stand in front of my house, not even sure if I will be living here tomorrow because I decided to come out to my mother today.

Calum being so open with his mother and how he really didn't care about being out in public with the looming fear of being ridiculed by others really motivates me to get over one of my fears and tell my mother that I am gay.

So I take a deep breath, open the door, and hope for the best.

-

I stand in front of my mother and state, "I need to tell you something, Mother."

I try my best to keep still and to not move, but my fingers subconsciously shake. She searches my face for some sign of uneasiness.

Finding the fear painted in my eyes, she smirks and says, "Just tell me, son."

I bite my lip and stand up straight. My mind reaches deep within itself to find its little bit of confidence, just enough for the words to come out of my mouth in a certain and indubitable tone.

"I'm gay."

Her face immediately contorts into a scowling frown, and she replies, "What?"

"I am gay, Mother. Meaning I like boys and am attracted to them rather than girls, like a straight—"

She interrupts me and quips, "Like hell! You will be rotting in hell just like your father and what he did to to this family!"

I glare at her and say, "I'm nothing like him. My boyfriend—"

"Your boyfriend? Your boyfriend!" she yells, exhaling heavily.

"Yes, Mother, my fucking boyfriend! His name is Calum, and he has a very nice smile and a beautiful personality, and I love him! He makes me happy."

"You don't even know what love is, you're barely eighteen for Christ's sakes," she mutters.

"Oh, and like you do? You can't stay with a guy for more than a month before one of you cheats and moves on just to cheat on that next person again! It's a whole cycle with you, and it—"

My explosion of words is interrupted by a piercing slap to my cheek. Her hand is the culprit, and no look of remorse is in her eyes; only disgust.

I put my hand up to my cheek, genuinely surprised. She has never hit me before.

"M-Mom—"

"You're a disgrace to this family. Go to your room," she orders, massaging the bridge of her nose and avoiding eye contact with me.

I narrow my eyes at her and reply, "No. You know what? I'm leaving."

She gasps. "You cannot just leave! You are my son, and you will not just embarrass me like this, with this parading of your 'fag-ness.'"

I run up to my room and slam the door behind me, locking the door. I hurriedly cram my black Adidas duffle bag with clothes, my schoolbooks, and all of my personal belongings I need right then.

I zip it up and glance around the room, seeing if there was anything else I need. My eyes land on a crumpled piece of paper, and I realize it's the instructions to the project that kindled me and Calum's relationship in the first place.

I scan the words and realize the paper is due at the end of the week, so in a matter of six days.

I have six days to write about how stupid this project is basically, but how it had such an amazing and beautiful outcome.

I smile to myself but snap back into reality when I hear stomping footsteps on the floor and harshly knocking noises on the door.

"Michael Gordon Clifford, you are not to leave your bedroom, or else," she warns.

I look over at the door, the knob jiggling back and forth.

I raise my middle finger to the door, where I know she is standing behind it, grab my phone off the nightstand table along with the paper, and slide open the window.

I step onto the roof, immediately slipping and barely catching myself. My bag, hanging off the edge, almost falls from my fingertips but I grip it tightly and close the window, saying goodbye to the room I grew up in for eighteen years.

"Michael, bud, are you in here?"

I hide under my blankets in fright, not wanting my father to see that I am still home rather than at Ashton's house like I had lied earlier.

"I see you, Mike!"

He rips the covering off of me, and I shake, only in my boxers.

"C'mere, kiddo, I just want to have fun," he coos and wraps me up in my arms.

Only ten years old, I could still be picked up with no difficulty. He sits me upright on the bed.

He puts his hands on my upper thighs, closer to my hips, and smiles greedily. "We're gonna have so much fun, Mike."

I squirm, but his strength overpowers mine, so I blank out, my eyes not focusing on anything in particular. The fuzziness in my head I am used to by then, so I use it to black out as much as possible.

I let him use my limp hand to pleasure himself, and when he's finished, he tucks me in and squeezes my sides.

With a wink, he bids me goodnight and says, "That was fun, Mike. I'll make sure to swing by tomorrow."

The lights are off.

I shiver and fall off the roof, straight into a holly bush.

I begin to lean up and scratch my head, but my bag lands square on my stomach with an oof.

"Fuck!" I swear, picking up my bag and running to Ashton's house as fast as my legs would take me.