Dying For Freedom [BoyxBoy]

"What do you want to do in life?"

The words of my father. The words he wouldn't let me live down. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted the world to see what I had to offer. What I could make of myself. Of my addiction.

But that wasn't my dad's ideal life for me. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, and our male family's steps.

Become a lawyer. Marry the girl next door. Have a few kids.

All the things that come with being in my family.

The Knights.

Only one thing, I'm far from wanting those things.

For one.

I'm gay. And goin' to school longer then I have to doesn't sound pleasurable in the least.

But I never really had a choice. Like a trapped princess, I will never get the chance to break out of this world. Of this life.

To show who I really am. What I can really do.

"Dude, what are you doing?"

I was brought back to reality when I heard my brother's voice. His tone was soft. But I knew he wanted to know exactly what I was doing. More so if I was doing something that he could bring back to our parents to get me in trouble.

The same routine everyday. Just different ways at trying to get to it.

And writing would most likely give him exactly what he wanted.

"Homework."

One simple word was my reply. The excuse of the century. Or maybe it went even farther then that? Who knows.

I flipped my slick black laptop close. Not before saving my writing, of course. That would be downright stupid.

"Pshh. Sure. Probably lookin' up porn."

And the sweet tone was gone. Now replaced with brotherly hatred. His hatred for me because our parents took a good amount of their interest in me. The oldest.

And trust me, I wish it was him. Not me.

Life is brutally cruel.

"Like I would be caught dead doing that."

That was my answer. And an eye roll.

I really had no interest for porn. Or sex in general.

Not that I wasn't attracted to people. I had a long term attraction for the lead singer in a band . His name never made a presents. But his eyes held a scarring reminder. They would forever haunt my heart.

He looked to be at least four years or so years beyond my age.

Maybe that was what attracted me to him. The exotic attraction of knowing he could make my family's world shatter. Unveil everything I have no want in being included in.

Or maybe it was just his rich, luscious voice. Like rich chocolate.

It was like a thousand angels bottled in one body. The minute his lips parted and those angels sounds poured out. My whole body would get an electrical shock. Up and down my arms. My legs.

My heart.

Sadly though. The reality of him is only in my dreams, and then my writing. The same dream every night. Only in different places.

It felt more real then the life I live and breathe in now. Nothing was fantasy. It was all realistic. The sky, the moon, the people.

All for us. Our love was out of the world. The life defying love we shared. It was deeper then any ocean. And sweeter then any teeth rotting candy out there. He was my world.

And he let me be...

Me.

If only it was reality. If he existed in this world.

Or if only I existed in my dreamworld.

"-Always in lala land!"

I was lost in thought again. And I didn't notice that my brother was still in my room with me. And talking.

I only caught the last of what he was saying. And I really didn't care for what the first part was. An insult surely.

"Okay. Can you leave now, please?"

The answer never came. Because I was already making the choice for him. By making his body move for him and shutting the door that disconnect my world from my family's.

Now for unveiling.

Not a breath was wasted as I pulled the thick, plastic wallpaper down off my walls once again. It was like uncovering the fake. The cage.

Only to show what's real. The little piece of freedom I had.

The once light room, is now dark.

Velvet.

The paintings. The posters. The pieces of paper hung only by a push pen.

It was me. My world.

If only I could share it with him.

My love.

"What the heart wants, is what it cannot have. For it cannot come easy."

Even though the words were whispered. Almost ghostly. It held more impact then any scream.

Even the loudest one there was.

Trust me, I've screamed.

Nothing can take the pain, and pressure of this. Of my life not even being mine.

My body was forced to become something it wasn't.

Something I wasn't.

My only escape...

My dreamworld. My writing.

...

Him.

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I would like to dedicate this story to my inspiration for starting writing.

Music4ever1617.

This person may not be updating stories anymore. But, you are, and always will be my inspiration.