Dear Oscar,
Freshman year, when Phoebe called me that word, do you remember the look on your face?
Of course you wouldn't be able to.
How can you see your own face like that? There was no mirror so you couldn't have.
So I'll just have to tell you.Remember that scene when Tony Stark blasts off Bucky's arm?
And Steve loses his absolute shit?
That's how angry you looked.
That's the level of fury that was rolling off of your body.It was terrifying how my once carefree friend had transformed into this beast so quickly.
I don't understand Spanish.
But I knew enough curse words to know that what you were saying about her was not pretty.Oscar, you said you were upset that she was a girl.
Because there was nothing more you wanted to do than fight her.
No, beating her, would've been a more accurate term.
You didn't do it and I thank Buddha, Allah, or whoever for that.I realized two things that day.
One: Phoebe wasn't my sister anymore.
Two: You were probably gay.Your anger, as some believed, was in defense of your friend.
Sure.
But I knew of the secret kiss and I saw that little spark of something extra in your eyes.Were you upset on my behalf?
Most definitely.
Were you upset because of another secret you'd convinced yourself should stay as such?
Most definitely.Oscar, I know we're not in contact anymore, but I'm hearing from people that you're still living a lie.
I hope that one day you can accept yourself for who you are; and not who your father wants you to be.💔
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