Hello? Hi.

27 (Aden's P.O.V)

Aden slid his phone into his pocket after texting Noah, an obvious smile on his face. He didn't usually smile much, but Noah's Skype call was total bliss and he was going to be able to see him again. He finally had someone who he could talk to. He never really had that. His schoolmates either teased him or ignored him, as he was the quiet boy who kept to himself. He was also beat up multiple times by a bully named Johnathan. But on the internet, he could be himself. There were people like him. There were cute photographers named Noah. Well, maybe only one of those.

Aden heard his father muttering to himself in the kitchen. Aden poked his head outside his room just to make sure he was talking to him. He didn't want any drama, not today. His father crinkled his face at the sight of Aden. 

"Why don't you make yourself useful for once queer and grab milk from the Supermarket?" Andrew, Aden's father, asked in an impatient tone as he flipped through some unpaid bills.

Aden nodded in silence.

"Get some orange juice while you're at it." Added his mother, Margo, puffing the smoke from her cigarette and blowing it as she made her way out of the room. 

"My phone's at 10%. I'll charge it real quick and then head out." Aden said, then stopped and realized tension. Fuck. He didn't mean to speak.

"Listen to me, Aden. Don't be a little piece of shit. Go to the supermarket like we asked you to. Your boyfriends can wait." Andrew said, then he snickered at his own 'joke'.

Boyfriends? But he doesn't have any...

Andrew walked away from the papers on the kitchen counter with one hand in his right pocket and the other fiddling some quarters, and Aden heard him mutter under his breath, "You little faggot."

Aden knew it would be stupid to say anything else. Not to his father. He knew what his father would do to him. He did it before. There were scars and cigarette bum marks all up his arms as the proof.  And if it wasn't his father who would do it to him, he'd do it to himself in shame. Aden bit his tongue.

"Y-yes sir." Aden mustered out. He opened the first drawer of the kitchen sideboard to grab money from the little jewelry box. He opened it to find nothing.

"There's nothing in here," Aden told his father who instantly gave him a cold stare.

"Does fucking guys make you unable to have your own job? You expect us to service you like slaves forever? Go use your own money." He said, lighting up his own cigarette and placing it in between his teeth. Aden clenched up his fists and face. 

"I'm not gay," Aden said feebly back. He took a couple of steps back, regretting saying anything. Before his father could say anything he quickly added, "I'll just-"

"Did you just speak back to me?" Andrew said softly, but loud enough to interrupt Aden's weak voice. Aden's heartbeat went a little faster, but it wasn't a good feeling like before. "Watch your filthy mouth." Andrew had a big face, with intense features. There were some black hairs where he wasn't bald and he had stubbed hairs on his chin from shaving. Aden knew his father was an alcoholic, which made him act terribly. But why should he be scared anymore? Aden often thought about this, but his parents would always remind him that he'd never survive on his own. To much of Aden's doubt, they said they were there for his own protection from an even scarier world. But how could he be so naive?

"You can't treat me like a kid anymore. I'm not a kid anymore." Aden responded, speaking quietly and cautiously. He looked down at his shoes to avoid his father's glance but when Andrew started laughing (slowly, and then accelerating speed), Aden couldn't help but look up with a look of surprise. Andrew continued to laugh for longer than was standard.