"I'm gay."
Silence enveloped the dining table as my mother dropped the fork she was eating with out of her hand and onto the floor. My father's face contorted into one of disgust.
"Honey, you can't be one of them, surely you must be mistaken?" my mother asked, expression grim.
"I'm sure, m-mom," I said hesitantly, voice wavering.
"James, honey, you're not," she said, voice firm and eyebrows furrowed in concern.
I gulped - nervousness and stress building up at the back of my head. "I am gay."
"James, you can't be - you just can't be a fag."
I remained silent for a moment, tears pricking the corners of my eyes but I kept it at bay, blinking furiously. "I'm a-a fag-"
My father's hand slammed onto the table, eyes blazing with fury but he didn't shout, he only said in a firm tone;
"James Carter, you are not my son."
My mother turned towards my father in shock, skin paling at my father's words. "Darling, you can't be serious - he's our only son, for God's sake-"
"I refuse to have a fag for a son," my father snapped, expression cold and distant.
The words stung me more than they should've, especially since I've been so close to him. He was always there for me, and now - now, he's just given up on me. It feels like someone has just gotten a knife and split my heart in two.
"D-dad, don't do this, please - you don't understand," I pleaded, hot tears being wiped away by the palms of my hands.
"You've made your choice-" my father started, as he rapped his knuckles against the table - a nervous tick he had.
"It's n-not a choice, dad!" I shouted, standing up, as I cursed myself for stammering again. Chestnut-colored bangs fell over my eyes, shadowing the top half of my face as tears fell freely from my eyes.
"Pack your things. I don't want to see you ever again."
With those words, I stood up and followed my father's words, walking upstairs to my room and locking the door.
As soon as I locked my door, I leaned against it - knees weak and breath heaving out of my chest. My sobs were stifled by my hand as I tried to take deep breaths to calm down but I couldn't stop the pain blooming in my chest.
My mother and father didn't even say anything, they just - just gave up on me. I couldn't believe my father and mother would do this to me; they loved me. I'm still the same, just because they found out something I've kept from them doesn't make me any different...?
I sighed, brushing hair out of my eyes, looking into the mirror across from me. I offered myself a watery smile and stood up, taking out my backpack and storing things important to me; some of my warm clothes, some money, a thick blanket, an umbrella.
Looking around my room, I spotted my phone and slipped into my pocket, putting the charger into my bag. I didn't even know where I was going to stay - I was only seventeen after all, and I don't exactly have anyone who'd be willing to take me in.
I packed a few more valuables into my bag, like those photographs of my dad and I playing in the park when I was little, him pressing a kiss to my cheek when I was a toddler. It was funny how I wasn't close to my mom at all compared to my dad. My mom was never home anyway, and whenever I didn't see her, I spent the time with my dad; I guess I just bonded more with my dad.
Satisfied with everything, I put on a beanie and a thick, fluffy jacket from H&M - a gift from my mom since she knew I loved fashion. I pulled on the straps of my backpack onto my shoulders and slowly crept downstairs towards the kitchen, hopeful not to bump into my father and get some food - who knew, maybe this would be my last meal?
