(Zayn's POV)
It was dark here, it was really dark. I hated sleeping outside. Not that I had a choice, I didn't want to be sleeping rough, I didn't want to sell my own body for money. I had to. It was either that, or starve.
My name is Zayn, I'm 20 years old. I've lived under a bridge for four years and I've got to say, it's not something I'd recommend. The only time I'm at the bridge is when I'm not working and work has been slow these past few months. My job is to have sex with men, for money. That's the reason I live under a bridge, that's the reason my family kicked me out. No, not because I'm a prostitute, because I'm gay.
I'm going to have to take you back to way back when, around the time I knew I was gay and the day I told my parents.
It was the nearing the end of August 2009, I'd say it was the 18th, when I was at a party with a few of my friends. We were playing the classic game of Spin the Bottle, with a few girls there, about 5 or 6 of them. It was my turn to spin, I'd hoped for the bottle to land on one of the girls. But obviously, it didn't. It landed on Harry. My best friend. I wasn't one to chicken out at anything, especially whilst drunk.
"Harry, get over here." I snap at him.
"Zayn, spin again." He replies.
"No, Harry. Come on, don't be a chicken." I retort.
"Z, I'm not coming over there."
"Fine. I'll come over to you then, pussy."
I stagger over to my dear friend, bat him a wink and brush my lips against his. I thought I wouldn't care. I thought I would just be able to brush it off in the morning and apologise for being so childish and drunk. But I liked it, it made me feel alive. To my surprise, Harry kissed me back. He let me in. I kissed him right there and then. He kissed me back. I don't know why, but I want to kiss him again. But I want to do it millions of times, I want him to be mine. I shouldn't want him to be mine. No. That's not right, that's disgusting. You're straight, Zayn. You like girls. You don't like Harry. It was just a stupid drunken kiss. Don't listen to yourself, it was stupid. It meant nothing.
- Six Months Later -
I don't know what to do. Tonight is the night that I finally come out to my parents. I just really hope they will accept me. If they don't, I'll have nowhere to go. Nowhere. I'll be on the streets.
"Zayn, love, what's up?" My mother snaps me out of my daze and asks.
"I need you tell you all something, I've waited for so long to tell you and I only hope that you will accept me." I stutter.
"Z, what is it?" my Dad asks, worryingly.
"I-I-I'm g-gay."
"Zayn. Get out of my house. I never want to see you again. Never. You are a disgrace to this family. You have an hour to pack your bags and get out. GO!!" My father retorts.
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Afterglow (Zarry)
Teen Fiction- afterglow - af·ter·glow /ˈaftərˌglō/ Noun 1. Light or radiance remaining in the sky after the sun has set. 2. Good feelings remaining after a pleasurable or successful experience: "basking in the afterglow of victory".