Vintage Memories

Chapter Seventeen "A Sinner Has No Right Of Happiness"

Trigger Warning: Homophobic Content and Language, Violence & Gore

Hello Readers,

I wanted to take this opportunity to reach out to anyone struggling with their sexuality and/or identity. I myself struggled with feelings of inferiority and self-hate regarding my sexuality for years. Some of the content in this chapter is repurposed from things and feelings I was exposed to as a teenager. It took me a while before I felt okay; before I felt like a person again. I was incredibly lucky to find and surround myself with amazing people in my life who love and accept me for who I am, but it still saddens me when I see and hear of those not so blessed. If you feel alone and unaccepted, or that it's never going to get better, please call the hotlines listed here (https://pflag.org/hotlines). My chosen family pushes me to pursue things that make me happy, such as my writing, music, and art. Please believe me when I say that even if you feel stuck, unloved, and unsupported right now, there are places and people out there who will love and accept you for who you are. Right now you just gotta keep fighting and smiling through the bullshit until you come out on the other side. Remember, no matter what anyone says and regardless of who they are, you are valid and your feelings are valid!

With copious amounts of love and support,

~ Your friendly neighborhood Sinner.

The reigning mood instantly fell sour as father and son locked eyes in a harsh stare down, both equally horrified at the situation as the other. Anthony remained frozen underneath Allen's rigid body, unable to muster the courage to look up from the tan, exposed torso above him. His heart twisted in his chest, beating rapidly and plummeting to the pit of his stomach in tandem. Their worst nightmare had just become reality; they were caught.

By Allen's own father of all the possibilities; Why god?!

"What in the name of the lord are you doing!" His father's bellowing voice racked their ear drums, the grievous shout causing both the boys to cringe. Finally coming free of his stiffened stance, Allen leapt to his feet, helping Anthony stand as well. He ushered Anthony behind him, placing himself squarely in between his lover and his father.

In his new placement, the blonde was finally able to set his sights on the man standing at the open door. He'd often hear Allen's recounts and complaints regarding his overbearing father, but he'd never once been able to put a face to the name, until now.

Dr. Joseph Broussard:

He was a spitting image of what Anthony assumed Allen would look like in his mid to late years. The resemblance was certainly uncanny; down to the weathered-with-age, but sharp features and the chocolate eyes bedimmed from many harsh years lived. A prominent, brown mustache framed his angered scowl, specks of grey dusting throughout it, same as the neat hair that was styled back atop his head. His eyes narrowed in bitter disgust behind his glasses, crows feet lines aggressively puckered in the corners. Anthony tensed when the doctor's eyes locked on him, dropping his gaze down to the floor.

"Answer me, Allen! What on earth are you doing?!" The brunette impressively held his own gaze with his father, a nervous, tight-lipped smile peeking ever-so-slightly. With steady hands, he buttoned up the front of his shirt, smoothing it out of any creases and tucking the ends back into his pants.

"I certainly wasn't expecting you home until morning." That quite obviously wasn't the response his father wanted to hear. With an echoing thud, he drove his fist against the door, making the blonde house guest jump in his skin.

"This is what you do when we allow you more freedom, peruse about with lady-boys?!" Allen kept silent, instead bending down to pick up his discarded glasses from the floor, slipping them back onto his face. He remained remarkably calm despite the dire circumstance, though underneath his couth exterior, his blood raced with the dreadful thrill; his heart pounding.