Love is rich

Pink

Tw: self harm and homophobia

~Nate~

"Tom your brother has pink hair!" Collin exclaimed as he sat down at our lunch table.

"I know Collin, I have eyes." Tom replied.

"And it matches with those two other people he's sitting with! Did you notice? That's so cool! Do you think I should dye my hair?"

"Shut up and eat you're lunch" Sam said, "but if you are going to dye it don't go pink, dye it blue or something."

"Okay maybe I will." Collin said excitedly, totally ignoring the first part of Sam's sentence.

"Don't dye your hair." Tom grumbled.

"Why not?" Collin asked.

"Because people will think you're one of them."

"One of them?"

"Yeah you know," Tom waved his hand roughly in the direction of the table that Evan was sitting it "queer."

Lance barked out a laugh "you really are and idiot Tom that's not how it works. Hair dye doesn't turn someone gay."

"I know but people will assume..."

I blocked out the conversation after that, I didn't want hear what Tom had to say. I thought he was okay with Evan, I thought he was working on it. He told me he was trying to stop with the casual homophobia only last week, what the fuck happened? If I had been braver then maybe I would've told Tom to fuck off, stood up from the table, walked right over to where Evan was sitting, sat down next to him and told him how cool his hair looked.

I also would've complimented Hailey's hair out of politeness, hers was dyed the same shade of pale pink but had chunky black streaks in it, like reverse highlights. And maybe, if I was in a particular good mood, I would tell Jazz that their hair looked cool too although I'd rather not, the memory of their hands in Evans hair still at the forefront of my mind.

But I wasn't brave, I was a sheep. The fear of loosing all my friends outweighing the distaste I currently held towards them, mostly Tom. So I was stuck and there was nothing I could do about it except stare over at Evan and hope no one noticed.

~Evan~

My day had been good. Really good. I officially felt like I could call Jazz and Hailey my friends, my hair had turned out great, and it had just overall been a good day. But that all came crashing down the second I arrived home.

Nothing in particular happened it was just the atmosphere. Catherine was home, which meant I couldn't go into the kitchen, which meant I couldn't even get a glass of water. Tom was home, which meant his friends were round, which meant Nate was there.

Overall the atmosphere was just bad and it made my skin crawl. Before, when Catherine was still my mum and Tom talked to me because he wanted too not out of obligation I'd have gone straight into the living room (most likely dragging Tom in with me) and then told both of them all about how I talked to new people and made new friends. Catherine would give me a hug, tell me how proud of me she was for going outside of my comfort zone and then she'd go and make tea. Tom would have breakfast tea with two sugars, she would have breakfast tea with three sugars and I would have peppermint.

Thinking back on it now I probably should've seen this coming, I was always the odd one out. Whether it was with my tea of choice or how I talked to people (or rather didn't talk to people). Tom had definitely gotten the socialising gene, for as long as I could remember Tom was always surrounded by a big group of friends. Catherine would always set at least four places at the dinner table, for the family plus Tom's friends.

Tom's friends from football. Tom's friends from church. Tom's friends from math class. The one time I did invite someone round for dinner Catherine decided she didn't like her and forbid me from speaking to her again, at the time I didn't understand why but now I realised it must've been because she was wearing a hijab and therefore wouldn't have had 'good christian values'.

It just wasn't fair. As time went on being the odd one out took it's toll and I became sad, like a cup of tea and bubbly bath won't help type of sad. And that sadness led to things which only isolated me more.

Always wearing my jumper and never wearing shorts was not only an inconvenience but I was sure I had heard people whisper about how strange I was for it.

Missing lunch because I either felt too sick to eat or like I didn't deserve to.

Never feeling I could talk to anyone about any of these things because the second I did they'd tell me that killing your self and hurting yourself is a sin and I'd be sent straight to hell.

So now, 6 years after I first picked up this bad habit and still just as sad as ever (even though I had an amazing day), I made myself bleed.

I'd always liked to imagine that one day I'd cut my skin open and instead of seeing blood I'd see flowers, beautiful red flowers that would bloom out of my arms and thighs and then grow and grow until I was converted in them and they consumed me. I would look beautiful.

Or sometimes I'd imagine that the scars I left on myself weren't from me at all, rather they were from battles with monsters and dragons which I fought and slayed in order to protect my kingdom.

But now I was too old for that, I knew exactly what I was doing and I knew almost-exactly why I was doing it. It had become a part of my daily routine at some point, a way to unwind, I couldn't sleep without it yet it still made me feel horrible.

I'd been doing so well before, and I hated that it was Tom that set me off. I wished I could've been stronger, wished I could've proven that I could look after myself.

But I couldn't. The one person who I had always needed was Tom from the second we were born. Whenever anyone gave me shit at school, Tom was there. Whenever I got into a fight with Catherine, Tom was there. Whenever I just needed someone to talk to, Tom was there. But he was pulling away, he was pulling away and leaving me to drown on my own.

If I had known that coming out, uttering those fatal words, would've ruined my life so much I wouldn't have done it. Catherine disowning me was bearable but Tom too? I couldn't take that.