I stared angrily, arms crossed, at my dad and stepmom in the easy chair in my living room. Ryan stood, protectively over me, staring with less gusto at my family. It had been a week since I had seen them. My bag, and several plastic bags, was upstairs in my room, in preparation for either bring kicked out or allowed to stay.

“Should we start this thing, or shall I walk out?” I asked snarkily.

Ryan placed his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be rude. At least your parents are trying to fix things between you. Remember, I had to spend a year trying to make things better.”

I still glared angrily at them.

“Adrian, we both would like to apologize for our comments,” said my stepmom, whose tone was earnest and understanding, almost quick, like she had been holding in those words for too long. My dad stayed quiet.

“I want to hear Dad say it.”

Dad gave me the dirtiest look. He leaned forward and almost whispered, “We would like to apologize for our comments.” His words were over-enunciated. If words could feel hollow, that’s what it sounded like.

I glanced at my side, avoiding his gaze. Ryan smacked me in the head. “What do you say?” he asked me.

I glared at Ryan for smacking me, then I looked back to my parents. I nodded and whispered, “Thank you for the apology.”

“Listen, Adrian,” Dad began immediately after I had finished speaking, “you can come back, but you can’t talk about your, ‘lifestyle’. Don’t talk about who you’re dating, or anything in that nature, all right? You’ll be living a normal life under our roof.” My stepmom looked at him, surprised.

In the back of my mind, I just wanted everything to return to normal, or something that was close to normal. I was so tempted to take the offer when Ryan asked, “What do you mean by ‘normal’?”

My fists curled. “‘A normal life’?” I asked through my gritted teeth. “So, you’re asking me, your gay son, not to be me in my house?” Where desperation to return to normalcy had been was replaced by complete anger. I shook my head and got up.

My dad went wide-eyed, and asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go get the rest of my stuff, Mr. Murphy,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Then maybe you can turn that vacant room into a study. I know how you always wanted a study, Mrs. James.” She flinched when I said that. “Is there anything else I can do for you guys before I head home?” I wrapped my arm around Ryan’s shoulders, leading him towards the stairs up to my room.

“Adrian, stop,” my dad yelled. I turned to him. “You’re still my son - ”

“When was that, Dad?” I asked, letting go of Ryan and turning to him. We were a few steps up the stairwell, making me taller than him. “Hm? Was that before or after you said, ‘Well, naturally, you wouldn’t be gay if you were my child’?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry for that, but - ”

“But, what, Dad?” I was expecting him to say something else; he didn’t. I just sighed. “You grow up thinking that your parents will be there for you. But, you haven’t. You’ve ignored me, you haven’t listened to me.”

“That is not tru – ”

“So, what the point of staying here with the man who denounced homosexuality, and-and thinks it would be a good idea for them to all die or commit suicide? Do you know how little that makes me feel?” 

“Adrian – ”

“No, I’m talking now.”

“No, l – ”

I continued anyways. “I legitimately thought something was wrong with me when you began talking like that, when I really began wondering why I liked guys more than girls. I was terrified because I couldn’t talk to you. I-I felt like there was no one there for me to talk to. I’ve lived a portion of my life believing that I was wrong, that I was going to Hell, that I was flawed or, or broken. But there’s nothing wrong with me. It’s all your fault.” Dad didn’t say anything; he just stared, his jaw tensing and his eyes staring hard at me. I sighed again. “Well, Dad, congrats. You just lost two kids for the price of one.” I took Ryan upstairs to gather what was left in my room.

My room. I enter to find nothing out of place, except for the amount of laundry in my hamper. I glance around unhappily and see my things – my books, my piles of design sketchbooks abandoned since middle school, my too-big postcard collection, my alarmingly large heaps of Architectural Digest – that makes me wish that nothing existed here. 

The door closed, and I pulled my bag onto the bed and began folding my shirts into one of the plastic bags. I looked up to see Ryan standing against the door. “What?” I asked in a tone that accidentally sounded harsh.

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too. He lost both of us. Me and Alyssa.”

Ryan crossed over to my bed. “I didn’t think your dad would do that. Or say that.”

I turned away. “Neither did I.”

“You’re…taking this all pretty well, Adrian.”

I looked back to Ryan. “I’m heartbroken. I guess, deep down, I just knew this would happen for a while.” Damn right you did.

Ryan opened his arms and moved towards me. “I’m so sorry, Adrian.” Muffled behind our words, my stepmom’s voice had risen.

I pushed him away. “I-I’m all right.” I went back and forth from my closet, folding all my shirts. My jaw tensed, my muscles visibly shook, and my eyebrows were pushed together from the anger and resentment that was building within me. My bag filled quickly, and I tossed that to the side. Eventually, my shirts were just forcibly crumbled into a ball and thrown into a plastic bag.

“Adrian – ”

“I’m fine.”

“Adrian – ”

“We nee – we need another bag.”

Ryan took my hands from the crumpled shirt and cupped them in his. “Stop,” he replied softly. I just stood there, breathing heavily, my eyes getting a little watery, and still angry. “It’s not your fault. He’s made the mistakes. You can stay at my house for as long as you need to, okay?”

Everything might as well as collapsed inside me. Maybe it was the gravity of the situation, or it was his words that let me feel bad for myself, I don’t know, but I sat down on my bed, and pulled my hands apart enough to cover my eyes with them. Ryan was still holding them, but stopped to wrap his arms around me. “Why don’t you cry?” he asked suddenly.

Because I don’t want to, not in front of you again. “I don’t know,” I admitted, my breath shortening. I pulled back far enough to look straight into his glossy eyes. “Thanks for being there for me.”

Ryan smiled. That genuine smile that could melt a girl’s heart. “I’ll always be there for you, no matter what.”

Everything felt like it was coming up. I was shaking and began to get more teary-eyed, and I didn’t want to cry in front of him again. “You really like me, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back, smile disappearing and a look of quiet determination taking over.

Tears began running down my face. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

I shook my head. “Please don’t make promises you can’t keep. You shouldn’t say that you like me now because, because things could change, and, and, and I know you mean well, but, please don’t.”

Ryan let go of me and placed his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll make a promise I’ll try to keep, okay?” he asked comfortingly.

More tears. I couldn’t stop. “No. Don’t. Please.”

“Adrian, I promise you that I will always be there for you, no matter what.”

My erratic breath made my body shake further. “I don’t know if I can believe you. I don’t know if I even want to.”

He frowned, and placed his hands closer to my neck. “I’ll try to not leave you alone, okay? I will always try to be there for you, no matter what. Remember, if you ever feel lonely or, or unloved, remember that I really care about you, and that I will do anything I can to make you smile again.” He smiled softly, and wiped away the tears that ran down my cheek.

He was close enough, and he deserved it. I leaned in and kissed him. Looking back, though, it was more of a quick peck on the corner of his mouth. He was surprised, but when he finally comprehended what was happening, I pulled back. He looked visibly confused. “You deserved it,” I told him, wiping away my tears while a broken smile spread across my face. The tears didn’t seem to stop coming.

Ryan wiped away more tears for me, frowning slightly. “You do know it isn’t the right thing to do, right? You don’t like me, but I like you?” he asked.

I nodded, knowing full well the consequences of my actions. I sniffed and wiped away more tears. “Then stop being so good to me.”

He briefly chuckled. “No, not happening.”

“And that’s why.” He kneeled next to me, his mouth slightly ajar. I could tell he wanted to speak, but maybe he didn’t want to offend me. “Do you want to kiss me again?” I asked.

Ryan’s head nodded and he asked quickly, “Yeah. Can I?” I reluctantly nodded. He carefully put his hands to my cheeks and kissed me, like he had been waiting for me, and this moment, his whole life.

He had just been waiting to kiss me.

I watched him do it – eyes closed, nose rubbing up against mine, fingertips lightly brushing against my upper cheeks, even noting the dried skin on his lips. This hurts…why? The tears kept coming. My room glimmered as more came. That sad, sickening lump formed in my throat, and I closed my eyes. This still hurts.

That was my last act of defiance in that house.