Before This Summer Ends (MXM)

Chapter 1

If anyone had told me a week ago that one day I'd be leaving London broke, homeless, and without my family, I'd have smacked them hard in the face. But here I am today, a week later at the London City Airport, at exactly 1:30 PM, thirty minutes before my flight to New York without any of these three things, and I'm feeling shitty as hell.

With every step I take toward the airport gate, I feel my heart crumble piece by piece. Hot, heavy breaths blow through my nostrils as I maneuver my way faced down through the swarm of bodies, slowly dragging along my luggage like I'm on a walkway of shame. As I trudge closer to the waiting area, curling my sweaty fingers tightly around the handle of my suitcase the intercom cackles loudly, and a female voice announces the departure of a plane causing my heart to ache some more. I don't know if I'd be able to leave London in this state, it feels like the whole world is spinning around me.

I exhale tiredly, feeling suffocated by the thoughts swiveling in my mind. There's no turning back now, I couldn't even if I wanted to, my dearly beloved father had made it clear to me that he didn't want to see my dumb face anymore when he stared lethally at me, screaming at me to get out. I only raised my chin and put on my best nonchalant look, posing to be unaffected by his threats, and I picked up all I could and left our family villa.

It felt like a brave thing to do at that point, but now, the closer I get to the gate, the more I feel my courage wash off me, mostly because I'm starting to see the consequences of my actions. I practically got disowned, all my accounts got frozen, and my sisters wouldn't even talk to me. So much for being the wild child of the family who decides to have a threesome with two male escorts right in my father's meeting room, and now, all of London knows about it.

Great.

I release another tired sigh when I get to the waiting area, a few people are already seated there awaiting their flight, and some others hurry to leave, bumping into me in the process. I click my tongue, quickly snagging my lips in between my teeth to stop myself from spouting insults at them. I can't risk making a scene and getting recognized by anyone here, that will only alert the press of my intentions to leave the city which will only stir up more drama and crazy stalkers for me, and trust me I've had a fair share of those these past few days. My phone keeps blowing up with press calls, homophobic death threats, and online perverts asking for dick pics. Don't even get me started on the number of calls I've received from relatives bombarding me with lectures on how I've brought shame to the family name. To sum it up this past week has been hell on earth.

I sigh yet again, as that is what I've been doing a lot lately, and I run a hand through my short dark hair, taking some time to accept within myself what I have now become. I, Noah Christopher Hemming is now broke and alone, left to survive on my own like a stray dog. I have lost all the glory, respect, and luxury I had, and that means no more private parties at the Burj Al Arab, or skiing over the cerulean seas of Maldives with the hot Brighton twins.

My heart throbs at the thought of it, it feels like there's a huge rock sitting on my chest, hardly letting me breathe. But what can I do? I have no other choice now than to go to New York to search for a place to stay for a while, maybe a nice hotel to spend the last wad of cash I have on me, but just as I'm about to give up and get up, someone yells my name.

"Mr. Hemming! Mr. Noah Hemming!" A raspy male voice I hardly recognize calls out, and like a guard dog, my head snaps backward to trace it.

Could it be someone from the press? Have they found me already? But that can't be possible, no one except my family knows I'm traveling, unless... no, they couldn't have sold me out. So who on earth would be calling my name here? I keep questioning myself as my eyes frantically search for the caller.