Paper Hearts ▪ Lams

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John and Alexander had known each other for years.

They met after Alexander moved to New York from a small island in the
Caribbean called Nevis, leaving behind a tragic past. John moved there a few years before from South Carolina, given that his father had been given a promotion at work. They were placed in the same class, in the seats next to each other. And once they had exchanged names, they decided to be best friends.

Alexander's childhood was no less than traumatic. His father left his family when he was only 5, and even though he was young, he remembered every moment of it. He and his mother grew ill only 2 years later, the sickness only sparing Alexander. With only his brother left, he and his home town faced a hurricane harsher than anyone could've ever predicted, leaving many dead. And within those many, lay his brother James. Alexander had nothing left but a cousin who lived nearby. He wasn't hit by the hurricane, so he gratefully took his little cousin in. Though, a year later he killed himself, leaving no reason behind. Alexander was shattered. He wrote and wrote until his hand practically broke. His paper was published and enough money was raised to send him to New York. He lived on the streets for six months until a couple found him one night, on the verge of death. They took him in, and called him their son. For once, he kind of felt like he was a part of a family.

John's childhood wasn't any better. He had always taken a liking to people of his sex. He never found this odd, it was just his feelings! But his father had thought differently. John always liked things that his father didn't. When his father was pushing football on him, he would excel in art. When his father pushed soccer on him, he would write infinite papers. When his father pushed basketball on him, he would master every instrument he could. All in all, he was an incredibly talented kid; but his father never let him reach his full potential. The one thing that he did that made his father slightly proud was play baseball. If you think he was good at drawing or writing or making music, well, compared to his athletic ability, those were all down the drain. Yet, through all of this, John was facing his internal feelings. He knew that he was gay, but he also knew that his father would never approve. When he was 6, he had mentioned that he thought one of his friends was cute. Upon hearing this, his father asked for the girl's name. John giggled and responded with, "Dad! It's a he!" And that was all his father needed to hear. That was the first night John was beaten by his father. John didn't understand at the time what he had said, given that he was only 6. The next time he was beaten was 2 years later. He had brought a friend over for a play date, and his dad walked in on them asleep on each other. After that, it was a constant thing; his dad would drink, and John would wake up the next day on his floor, sometimes in a puddle of his own blood. He never dared to tell a soul that he was being abused. Or that he was gay.

The two were closer than any two people you had ever seen.

Then John started to recognize his crush on Alexander.

He had always felt happy around him, but he had never put a name to the feeling. When they had hit the 7th grade, he realized that feeling was romantic.

But he never told Alexander, in fear of his father, in fear of society, in fear of himself.

John had always picked up Alexander's shattered heart.

But who was going to pick up John's broken pieces?

Little did he know that Alexander was willing to piece together his paper heart.