Gay, Hell No I'm Not! (BoyxBoy)

Chapter twenty-five

Sorry about the late chapter guys, I've started losing interest in writing these past few weeks ;-; 

However, I will finish all my stories, and hopefully by then, the urge to write will come back to me, because I really do enjoy writing from the bottom of my heart, and have no intention to fully stop writing in this lifetime.

As a side note, this story is coming to a conclusion soon, within the next few chapters, so that's something to look forward to. Well, unless you hate when stories end, then you'll be dreading it. :P

Anyways, enjoy the chapter. Since its been too long since I've last written, I feel like I've gotten a bit rusty, so hopefully I didn't do too terrible of a job writing this chapter. :/

P.S. - Sorry it's so short; at least its longer than the last though, right? ;-;

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Aiden's P. O. V.

As I rounded the corner, my heart jolted from what I saw as I became panic induced. My eyes widened with horror and rage filled me to the brim, causing me to develop tunnel vision as all I could focus on was the horror show in front of me. 

There was my father, drunk and no doubt irrational from it, towering over my mother who lay pale faced and trembling on the grown, hand clutching at her bruised cheek. A small trace of blood dripped slowly down from her split lip and splashed onto the wooden floor. The sound of it echoed like church bells, loud and startling, shaking me to my very soul. Something in me swelled up then, and dreadful emotions began to boil my nerves. 

"Mom!" I cried out in surprise.

My expression turned unsightly to behold as I rushed to my mother's aid, wanting nothing more than to kill this man where he stood! 

My self control seemed to be on the verge of breaking as I forced myself to think rationally, as going berserk because of my anger was not in my best interest at this time.

But I was this close, so close, to snapping.

If it wasn't for my mother, who would end up bare witnessing my acts of violence, I might really of gone off on him. However, I did not want to do so in front of her, for her wellbeing only I held back.

I bent down and helped my mother to her feet with a gentle hand beneath her elbow supporting her along the way, my tentative eyes never leaving my father for even a second.

I didn't trust him to not pull some sort of stunt when my eyes were turned away, especially as drunk as he was.

As I guided my mother behind me, my father's unfocused eyes sharpened and turned towards me. A chill went down my spine from the dark look that passed through his eyes. It contained a deep rage, one that seemed to have been steaming for a while now, it seemed fueled by his intoxication. 

"You!" He growled with contempt and reached for one of the empty bottles that littered the floor. This caused a bad feeling to go through me as I anxiously wondered what he planned to do with that bottle.

My father then straightened his body and began to slowly stumble his way over to me, his body swaying ever so slightly in tune to his steps. The feeling of impending danger caused me to back up as he moved forward my way. I felt like I was being stalked by a predator, me being the prey. This situation was not too far off from such a depiction. 

I directed my mother with a wave of my hand to move to the other side of the room, as far away from my father, while still being in my peripheral line of sight, knowing that all his attention will now be focused on me, the object of his hate.