✔ CHURCH BOYS ⇢ MCHARRISON/LENNSTARR

THIRTEEN

Paul's POV

It's strange how something can be a small speck and the entire universe all at once. To me, that's what George is. Since the moment I met him he was different. It may seem strange to say, considering that I just met him. But he's not like other people. Not just because he freaks out at the mere sight of green door. It's because he's gentle and soft spoken. Not like my father. No my father is a modern day robin hood, he steals from the bitch and gives to the whore.

Family life was never great and neither was school. But he changed that. He makes me feel like the most important entity in the universe.

Every time he smiles, I melt. Every time he laughs, I think everything will be alright.

Then, I remember that's not true.

Life is strange in the sense that it finds a way of getting worse no matter what. Even when you think it couldn't possibly get any more miserable. But, I couldn't help but smile watching his fingers dance about over the frets on his guitar. I moved my fingers to match his but, try as I did, I couldn't get it right.

"You're doing great, Paul!" George exclaims.

"Oh, you're just saying that." I sigh.

"No, really. You're selling yourself short. Your a natural!"

I smile,

"Well, thank you."

This is it Paul, grow a pair and kiss him. I slightly lean in but then pull myself back.

I mentally punched myself in the face several times. How do I keep messing this up?

"Um, George?"

"Yes, Paul?"

"I should be getting home. It's getting late."

"Oh. Um, alright. G-Goodnight." He says, his smile certainly not reaching his eyes.

I wrap my arms around him,

"Sorry."

"No, it's alright. I understand."

I begin to walk away, but then I turn around to see George looking at me with sad eyes.

I hurry back to him and place a soft kiss on his cheek and whisper,

"Goodnight."

His eyes are wide in surprise, but a wide grin was plastered across his face.

"Um, yeah, goodnight."

Then, I'm out the door. I could barely contain my excitement. I ran all the way home, filled with an endless supply of joy-induced energy. I flop down on the grass in front of my home and look up at the dark sky. It seems that much lighter after what had just happened. There was a single star shining in the sky. It was millions of miles away but it still felt as if I could reach up and touch it. Then, all of a sudden, I heard a loud crash from inside the house. I shot up and ran inside.

What the...?

Everyone was where they normally would be. Father was passed out on the couch and Mike was sitting with a cigarette watching some crime show on TV. When he saw me he switched off the TV and walked towards me. I immediately regretted my decision to come home. I began walking towards the door. However, Michael grabbed my wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, in an alarmingly relaxed, almost calm tone.

"Oh, uh, nowhere?"

"Nowhere, huh?" He laughed, turning my around. He punched me in the stomach and watched me fall to the ground. He enjoys watching me gasp for air and clutch my stomach.

"Okay, okay, I'll stay." I croak.

"Good. Now get up, don't just sit there like an idiot."

I slowly stand up, coughing and wheezing like there's no tomorrow. Mike shoves me and laughs quietly to himself.

"Pussy." He mutters.

I remain silent. I hear my father stirring and Michael turns around. Father sits up and stretches a bit before heading back to the kitchen for what I'm guessing is another beer. When he's gone Michael turns to me again,

"Where the hell were you?" He asks.

"I was just at a friends house." I respond, quietly.

"You? Friends?" He laughs.

"Yeah. So what? I can have friends."

"You can have them but..." He explodes into a fit of laughter before he can finish the sentence, "Just get out."

"With pleasure."

Before he can say anything else, I'm gone, already up the stairs. I was relieved. Well, until I saw something red shining from the bathroom as I was passing the door. I took a few steps back and gasped. On the mirror, in red shiny letters, it read: "God hates faggots". It was written in my mothers lipstick. The stick I had kept all these years, to be exact. It was in pieces on the floor. All of a sudden, the cryptic message in the mirror didn't matter anymore. It was broken completely. The only thing of hers we had left.

Mike had burned her clothes, her possessions, even pictures of her. Simply out of grief.

Who would do this?

Not Michael, he missed mother as much as I did. Same went for father. It had been years, they had moved on. But, I for one, have not. It still tore my up inside, I spent many night crying, just thinking about her.

Now, the last thing we had to remember her by, destroyed.

Then, I noticed that the window was almost completely shattered.

So, that's what the loud crash was. I cautiously peer out the window to be greeted with little more than an empty, dark street.