sinned for. // l.s.

one.

" i can taste it, my heart's breaking,
please don't say that you know, when you know. i can't take it, i'm impatient, tell me baby,  now i know, you should go. i know i'll fall in love, baby.
and that's not what i wanna do. i hope you won't
ever lie to me, and if you do, i know i won't be your crybaby. "

harry.

⠀⠀jack daniels has a shitty taste. i came to the realization of this matter on about the fifth shot of it, when the pure taste of acid and expo marker began to congregate into a vulgar flavor in the back of my throat before painfully traveling down into my stomach. it left behind a burning sensation in its wake, a rather rude reminder that yes, harry, you're absolutely fucking stupid for doing this. but dad had wanted me to accompany him during one of his frequent bar rendezvous now that i was back in town. he claimed (his words, not mine) that "every twenty-three year old should get out and live a little with their cop dad."

⠀⠀first of all, not every twenty-three year old man has a cop dad like i do. and second, i was perfectly fine with staying at home and doing some very hardcore online shopping. but, me being the little and easily swayed angel that i am, i agreed. and that's what got me here, downing my sixth shot of whiskey and getting clapped on the back by my 260 pound dad, who was, might i add, nothing but muscle. so the slap hurt.

⠀⠀his bellowing, thunderous laugh echoed throughout the building, ensued by a chorus of sounds identical to his. i shoved the empty shot glass away from myself, glaring at it as if it were a person who had just insulted my outfit. "damn, harry, i didn't take you for a drinker. what have you been up to since you left us for los angeles? 'cause it seems like you lost that lightweight demeanor," my father teased, his features graced by a massive smile. either he was drunk or just way too happy to have his son, the pride and joy of his family, with him at the bar like an accessory to show to his buddies.

⠀⠀i quickly asked the bartender for a simple bottle of beer before acknowledging my father's question. "i was never a lightweight," i mumbled, impatiently thrumming my fingers against the countertop. "and i've been gone for two years. i turned twenty-one in l.a., spent my birthday in a club. got drunk off my ass. anything else you wanna know?"

⠀⠀"you meet any women?" he then proceeded to ask, flashing me a playful wink. of course he would ask that kind of intrusive, stupid question. he thinks i'm straight. no, he doesn't just think it. he assumes it. if i were anything but straight he'd probably shoot me. he's best friends with pastor tomlinson, the god-fearing father of my best friend who stayed behind in new york to provide for his family and pursue his dream of becoming an adidas model and a professional soccer player. his name's louis, and he's about three years older than me. he's turning twenty-six this year, while i just recently entered the age of twenty-three. and while he lingered in new york city and became successful, i was in los angeles, 3000 miles away on the other side of the country in a totally different state, partying and modeling for saint laurent. i had yet to reunite with louis, and he had been my top priority upon arriving home, but my father had other plans for me. thanks dad.

⠀⠀besides, louis was probably busy with his girlfriend. that was the worst part of having a straight best friend; you could never love him openly. only platonically, and keep the romantic feelings bottled up and hidden away deep within. but we were just friends. i wasn't in love with him or anything... not at all. both of our dads constantly preached about homosexuality being the end of the world as we know it and that if they ever saw two men kissing on the street they might as well just run them over. it was terrifying to hear that pass from my father's lips. a police officer, threatening to hurt somebody or even kill them because they weren't like him.

⠀⠀it was at times like those that i wanted to punch my dad or see him be stripped of his badge. it would be a soothing relief.

⠀⠀"no, i didn't meet any women. why is that your only fucking concern?" i spat in return, shooting my father daggers. and whenever he questioned me about having sex and hooking up with girls, i wished those metaphorical daggers were real.

⠀⠀"just wondering. good lord, son. take it easy. i just want you to be happy and settle down with a nice young lady and maybe marry her and start a family. you know, a traditional family. carry on the styles bloodline," he insisted as he tipped his mug of whiskey to his lips. it was then that my beer arrived, and i quickly grabbed it, hoping it would save me from answering any more dumb questions.

⠀⠀"have you ever thought that maybe i don't want that?" i hissed before stealing a swig. this burn was relaxing, a fuzzy, warm sensation in my throat that seemed to numb the entire world; everything around me became soft and slow. "why wouldn't you? you don't want a wife and kids?" my father asked, raising both eyebrows. "c'mon, harry. every man wants a wife and kids!"

⠀⠀i slammed the beer bottle down; the loud clanking sound was nothing compared to the music and the televisions and the men and women talking and dancing all around us. in fact, it was nearly drowned out, but it was enough to make my dad flinch. "no, i don't want that! not every man wants that, dad! not every man is like you. some of us don't want to settle down and deal with children. why can't you accept that?" i snapped, getting to my feet.

⠀⠀his hand was around my tattooed arm in a second, holding me back. "where are you going?" he asked; his tone indicated that my words had hurt him, and i felt the slightest twinge of sadness in the pit of my stomach. chewing on my lower lip, i flicked my chin up, staring him dead in the eye. "i'm going to see louis. i missed my friend."

⠀⠀and with that, i yanked my arm away and headed for the door, leaving my astounded and somewhat upset father behind in the hazy, noisy bar. i set out into the summer sunlight, the warm air dancing across my sunkissed flesh, and that was that.