I don't really have a title for this. O.o

[o]

People called it a sin. An abomination. I never understood, though, how so much hate could be pointed in the direction of love. Two men couldn't love each other without hatred being pointed their way. I always figured it was because everyone needs a group to hate on. Not because they actually hated gays.

Me? I was just a normal kid. I suppose I was more popular than others, but I never really cared. I was called a jock constantly, so I just got used to that title. People liked me, and some said they were jealous of me, though I never understood how. My parents were geeks, and my sister could be at times, too. Though she was gorgeous. Some say they'd kill to have my life, but I would kill to have any other life but mine. I hated myself. So much, more than anything. I didn't know why, though. At least, not at first. Everything seemed so hopeless, and the more my friends talked about hating gays, for some reason, the more I got depressed. I guess at first I never made the connection. When I did, however, I lost it.

In my hand I held a gun, my finger on the trigger. I held it against my head, waiting, staring at the wall of my old bedroom. How I loved this house. I was home alone, obviously, since people always seemed to check up on me. Mostly my mother.

Hot tears burned down my cheeks as I stood there, waiting for my finger to pull the trigger. The most I thought about killing myself, the more scared I got. I thought about my best friend. Fredrick. I lost my will to pull the trigger. Him. He was my reason to live. I loved him. Wait, I loved him? That thought scared me more than killing myself. There was no way I could tell him I loved him. There was no way I could tell him anything going through my head. As much as it pained me to say, he was homophobic.

I put the gun in the top drawer of my dresser and sat on my bed. I stared at the wall, and began sobbing. I buried my face in my hands.

My emotions drained from crying, I stood up and walked into the bathroom. I grabbed the first bottle of pain killers I saw. I don't know how many I took, but it was diffidently more than I should've. But that was the point, right? I set the pill bottle down, and walked out of the bathroom. I walked into the living room, and laid down on the couch. I sat there, my body relaxing. I began feeling overly tired, and I couldn't control myself. I slept.




I felt nothing, and heard nothing, until I was woken up by doctors talking. Their voices were so far away, my brain didn't care to put their words into sentences so I knew what they were saying. I couldn't move my body for a few moments, until I looked over and saw him. Fredrick. He was sitting there, next to my mother and my father, and across the room I saw my sister, Ashton.

"Oh my god! Roland... Thank god you're okay." My mother said, hugging me gently. My father stared at me, with an angry expression. I knew that must've been his "I-care-about-you-but-I'm-going-to-hurt-you" expression. My sister was crying, and I didn't look over at Fredrick. I didn't want to face him now. I was too scared that I'd screw up and say something about being in love with him.

"Why did you do that, Roland!?" My sister shouted at me, "Pain killers? What was going through your head? What could've possibly made you want to kill yourself like that?!"

I didn't say a word. Not that I couldn't, I just didn't want to. There was no way I could tell my parents. The ones who hated gays most.

"Fuck you, Roland." Ash said, storming out of the room. I frowned. We usually got along so well, but... I felt my eyes burning with tears again, and I tried my best to fight them.

"Can I talk to Roland alone?" Fredrick finally spoke up.

Oh god no, anything but that. Please no.