Fix You ~Completed~

Act Two

"Honey, are you happy?"

I am a lot of things. I am bruised, I am swollen at times, I am cut, I am empty, I am a terrified boy in an adult's body... but I am not happy.

Mom asked me again when I came home to visit for Thanksgiving my first year at college. Kyla was still in our apartment back at Sawyer, smoking weed or something. (I wasn't sure what the drugs he smoked were called; everything was weed to me because that was the only name I knew.) I offered to bring him with and he nearly smacked me for assuming he wanted to spend two days with my folks. He smacked me later for even considering mentioning our relationship to my parents. "You can tell them you're gay," he hissed at me, "but leave me the hell out of it, okay?"

"But I-I want them to know I have someone," I said quietly, holding my cheek with a trembling hand. It was stinging, but I couldn't cry. I was afraid how Kyla would react to me crying. "Kyla, they w-won't say anything to anyone. My parents aren't like that."

"I'm not like you," Kyla responded, his tone scorching.

"Honey, are you happy?" Mom repeated the question at the kitchen table. I stared blankly at her, my hand fisting a fork while it dangled lifelessly over my pasta. She made my favorite. I was surprised she even knew what my favorite was. "Like, are you really happy?"

"I'm gay." I just came right out and said it.

Dad laughed, thinking it was a joke. "Get it? Gay means happy? Very funny, son," he called, patting me on the arm. A look came over his face. I think he forgot how boney I was. He also rarely called me by my first name; he preferred to use the nickname 'son' for some reason. It sounded less personal perhaps.

I shook my head. "No. I'm not happy. I'm gay. I like boys, a lot."

"You want to date boys?" Mom had to clarify with a confused eye squint.

"Yes," I murmured, forcing myself to keep my head up and look at each of them. "I've known since middle school. I never said anything before because I-I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it or even how I felt about it, but it feels like the right time to say something."

Dad nodded. "My son is gay."

Mom nodded. "Our son is gay."

I nodded, following the trend. "I'm gay."

They were fine with it. They said they were happy I finally came out to them. I told them that I actually felt happy, so happy I forgot what Kyla said, so happy I told them I was in a relationship. "It's Kyla," I beamed, rubbing my shoulder. I prayed the turtleneck I wore covered the bruises along the bottom of my throat. "We've been dating since junior year, sort of. It was complicated at first and Kyla said he was just doing it because he felt bad for me, but we're still a couple so I think he l-loves me. I love him."

That was where the trouble started.

"He is a bad influence as a friend! As a boyfriend, he's an absolute nightmare! What do you see in him?" Mom gasped, reaching out to clasp my hand. I tore it away, shocked she'd say that about the boy I loved. I just told her that we loved each other and she immediately attacked him? How could she do that?

"Son, this isn't a good choice for you. What you had wasn't a healthy friendship. I imagine a relationship is just..." Dad trailed off, his eyes landing on his half-empty dinner plate.

I choked back a sob. "I love him," I said, my voice wobbling. "I really love him and you hate him? Is that it?"

"We hate what he sometimes does to you," Mom whispered, getting up.

"He loves me! Kyla has never hurt me!" Lie, lie, lie. I was such a liar. Kyla turned me into a worthless liar. He was right. I was nothing but a worthless joke. What was I doing? "We're happy together."

"Clem!" Mom laid a hand on my right shoulder, emitting a squeak from my cracked lips. I flung her hand away, the patch of my body she'd touched feeling as though it'd had ten thumbtacks shoved into it. The sob that had been building in my throat burst and I stood up. "Sweetheart, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

Kyla never said things like that to me. He never pretended to care the way my mom sometimes did. My mom, who never had time for me. My mom, who didn't love me.

"I'm fine," I insisted, backing away. "I j-just hurt myself. I f-fell down the stairs at the school one day. I rush too much."

Kyla kissed me after he did it. He peeled off my hoodie and kissed the bruise. He didn't say he was sorry, but I knew he was. My Kyla never meant to hurt me.

If they didn't understand, then fine. I didn't need them in my life anyways.

~*~

The first few chapters are only three pages long, once the story gets going they are a little longer. Hope you enjoy!

-AM/CI