Boy Next Door ✔

chapter twenty-eight

C A L E B 

"Mom, dad.. I have something to tell you," I began, my palms already sweating. 

"Hold on, sweetheart," my mother said softly, setting aside her rosary and bible on the coffee table nearby. My father did the same and took a seat beside my mother, looking at me intently.

"Right," I sighed when they were both prepared. I knelt down in front of them and held onto both of their hands, looking up at them with my heart racing and a million negative thoughts rushing through my mind. "I don't want you to hate me after I tell you this. I want you to know that I'm still your son, I'm still the Caleb Jones that you know."

"You're making us nervous, son," my mom chuckled before petting my hair. "You know that we'll always love you no matter what."

I gave her a pained smile before taking in a deep breath and deciding to just let the cat out of the bag right away, "I'm gay."

What followed was seconds, then minutes of silence. Then, suddenly, my mom pulled her hands away from me and my dad mirrored her actions. The both of them scurried to their feet and got as far away from me as they could, as if I was some sort of disease. 

"You- how could you?" my mom began, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was shaking. I attempted to reach out for her so I could wipe her tears away and tell her that everything was okay, but she slapped my hand away and backed away even further. "After everything we've done for you.. you-- you repay us like this?"

"How dare you betray our Lord and saviour like this," my father began sternly. "He gave you everything you wanted and you turn out like this? What would God say?"

Tears were cascading down my cheeks like a waterfall and I scurried to my feet, "I didn't ask to be born this way. I can't control who I like, okay? Just because you guys want me to like girls that doesn't mean I will-"

Suddenly, my head whipped to the side and said action was accompanied with a burning sensation on my cheek. I cupped my cheek with my hand and looked over at my mom in disbelief. She had just slapped me. 

"You," she began, pointing her quivering finger at me. "You are not our son anymore."

〤

"That.. that's harsh," Mateo whispered. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Nobody deserves that."

"You don't have to apologize," I responded, looking down at my lap with a pained grin. "I learned a lot from that event anyway, and I walked away from that situation a stronger person."

He let out a soft sigh, "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"I've mentioned it briefly to my friend, Dustin," I confessed. "But he doesn't know as much about it as you do. I usually don't talk about things like this, I write them down in my journal instead."

"That makes two of us," he chuckled. "I was born with this frustrating social anxiety and could never really talk to people for the life of me.. so my friend suggested that I write down my feelings in a journal."

"We have more in common than I thought," I said with a grin. "Is your social anxiety the reason why you left like that after bumping into Dustin and after making me spill my coffee all over myself?"

"Yeah," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"It's nothing," I responded. "I'm sorry for calling you a loser imbecile and for saying those things to you that day when I came over to tell you off about your music."

"It's all good," he said with a lopsided grin. "As long as you didn't mean it."

"I did at the time," I replied honestly. "But now that I've gotten to know you a little better, I think I just used to hate you because you reminded me a lot of myself."

"Does that mean that you hate yourself?" 

"I mean.. yeah? I guess you could say so," I said with a forced chuckle. 

"Why?"

"There's nothing to like about me," I spoke, looking everywhere but at him.

"You did say we have a lot in common, yes?" he suddenly began, to which I simply nodded. "Do you think there are things about me that are even the least bit likeable?"

"Yeah, there are a lot of things about you that I find likeable," I responded without hesitating.

This time, he placed his hand on top of mine and began to stroke the back of my hand comfortingly with his thumb, "Then there's a lot to like about you too."