Part thirty-three

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Jack P.O.V.

I took everything out my backpack, triple checking I had everything as I laid it all back out on my bed. 

4 t-shirts. 3 pairs of jeans. 5 pairs of socks. 4 pairs of underwear. 1 hoodie. 2 t-shirts to sleep in. Phone charger. Notebook. Brush. Toothpaste. Toothbrush. Deodorant. 

They were just essentials since I couldn't fit anything else in and could just about close the zip and fit all the smaller things in the other compartments. I put it all back in, looked around the room again for anything important I might've missed and set the back down on the floor next to the door so it was ready to just pick up. 

I stood in front of the mirror and tried to say the two words that would ultimately bring both of my parent's perfect worlds come crashing down. 

I'm gay. 

I opened my mouth but my throat closed up and I just felt nauseous, so I looked down at the floor and wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans, taking a couple of deep breaths before looking in the mirror again. 

I'm gay. 

I got the tiniest bit further this time; I let out a little squeak before I backed out of it again. If it was so hard admitting it to myself, could I actually say this to anyone? 

Come on Jack, why is this so hard to say?

I sighed, slightly frustrated and ran a hand through my hair.

I'm gay and I'm in love with Dean. 

Weirdly enough that sounded easier to say, as if I had a reason to admit that I had an attraction to the same sex. But whatever way I said it, it wouldn't be accepted or just brushed off as fine and perfectly okay. This was my parents, and homophobia was something they appeared to grow up with and was imprinted into everything they knew. 

But the majority of the world had moved on without them and I was certain they would never grow out of their ways or change their opinions, even for their own child. So that was why I had packed some stuff to spend some days away, if I thought it was needed after I broke the news. 

I was terrified, of course I was, I had had to listen to their disgust of homosexual people over the table before. The secret was eating me alive, taking over my thoughts and the fear felt like it was digging into my skin, shredding it into pieces and I didn't have long until it all made a mess. 

That was what I was afraid of, that the secret would come from another source instead of myself. Felix had done it before, told someone he didn't like's relatives a lie in town and I had heard it caused total uproar in the family and they moved away. There was nothing to stop him from doing it again, but I suppose it was a lot more different this time. What he would be telling them would be real and since he would have eyewitnesses to help prove his statement, there would be nothing I could do to deny it.

I slipped my shoes on, pulled on a hoodie that went with what I was wearing and slung a strap of the backpack over my shoulder and went downstairs. I dropped my bag by the bottom of them and looked in the hallway mirror and my nervous self reminded me of when I met Dean the first time in maths class: flushed cheeks, the stuttering and fidgeting and then how I looked up the signs of anxiety the same night.

The thought of Dean gave me a rush of hope and I gave myself an affirmative nod and went to the kitchen. I was surprised that they hadn't made plans tonight since it was Friday afternoon that was creeping into evening; my father was sat at the table reading the newspaper and my mother was making dinner. It was all so horribly cliché and perfect and old-fashioned that I was already regretting making the decision to tell them. 

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