Anathema

ten - you don't know what that means

The crisp air bit his face and stung his cheeks, and brought him back to earth.

"They hate me," he said to no one.

"Probably," Nico said, and Clancy nodded.

"They think I'm special," he sneered, the word tasting dirty in his mouth.

"Don't talk like that," Clancy said immediately.

"Like what? Don't be mean to myself? Because I hate myself so bad."

"Me too," Nico said.

"Like growly. Slimy. Growly and slimy. That's how you said it." Clancy shifted his weight and stared at the rain falling down. It was beginning to slow now, and left a clean, fresh smell hanging off the boards.

Growly and slimy. For some odd reason, that made perfect sense to him. "Sorry," he said.

"It just reminds me of...of stuff. Of the place I came from."

Clancy had never mentioned coming from a place before. "What place?"

"A bad one. A city. A place where no one's special and it's good to die."

"It is good to die," Tyler said.

"Then it's over," Nico said.

"Then you go to heaven."

"Or hell."

"I don't think I'll go to hell," Tyler said, rubbing his arms and watching the rain fall gently. He held his hand out and let the icy drops collect in his hand. He felt suddenly hyper aware of the world around him. The air was blue from the dying daylight, and he could hear his family talking inside, their muffled voices bubbling like hot tea.

"You like boys," Nico says.

Tyler blushed slightly. He hadn't told anyone yet. He wasn't even sure if he did. "And what if I do?"

"The neighbor lady said you'd go to hell."

"Me?"

"Not specifically. She said boys who like boys go to hell."

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Because God loves us and I don't think He'd do that."

"Does he love you?" Nico asked, and he turned to stare at him almost blankly.

Tyler was silent for a moment. "I don't know," he finally said.

Two yellow headlights cut through the rain and pulled up in the driveway. Then they stopped and turned off without going into the garage.

"There's Dad," Tyler said.

His father climbed out of the car and came toward him. He never walked toward him like that. Like he was in a hurry. Like he had to protect something. Tyler watched him without blinking, careful to keep his expression neutral.

"Hey, Tyler," his father said, smiling a forced smile, like his mother, like he'd eaten a frog.

"Hey," Tyler said.

"How's my buddy doing?"

"I'm not your buddy," he said.

"Oh? Too old for nicknames?"

"But not too old for imaginary friends."

His father actually recoiled slightly. Tyler ignored him and stepped down the single stair on the porch, feeling the freezing rain land lightly in his hair. He liked how his footsteps sounded crisp on the sidewalk and echoed twice behind him.