For the love of my life... (Trillie)

the things I did

Tre's pov

I wanted to kill myself, grab a thick rope, tie a noose, and fall with my neck around it.
Feeling rejected sucks, and just for me to go home to my mom, having a secret trapped inside of me that she will never understand.
What if I left a note and ran away? Would that solve anything? after all, I have nothing to lose. I lost a friend I was in love with, cause he was straight, I have a horrible mother and a father always away, but makes money for the family and comes back every night.
But Billie, his father will never come home, share the love for his family. He's always wanted a father to be there...he told me.

I picked up the guitar case, and walked to the music store.

I opened the door, with a bell ringing above my head.
The store had guitars hanging up on the walls, thick, black shelves in which seemed filled with all sorts of music stuff.
I walked over to the skinny boy, dents in his face to create cheekbones. I've seen him around in school, fiddling with the basses in the music room, he had short, brown hair. I think his name was Mike. But he had a really gloomy face.
I took the guitar out of the case, and picked up blue.
"Can you fix this?"
I ask him.
He nods his head, carefully taking the wrecked guitar and taking it to the back room.
I waited, walking around the store, to discover a beautiful pair of drums laying directly on a stage.
He comes back out to grab something from the desk, looks over my way, and smiles a tiny bit.
It was the most I've seen him smile, seeing how he is always quiet and roaming the halls with his head down.
I smile at him, grabbing a pair of drumsticks and sitting on the beautiful black leather chair.
I look at the white rimmed drums, with a dark purple-reddish base for the entire drum set.
I started tapping on them slightly, and Mike says "go ahead, you can play them" He chuckles slightly, as I start with some  simple beats.

about an hour later, mike comes back out with the guitar, looking brand new.

"how did you fix this perfectly without removing anything?!" i squeal, questioning him while i'm trembling anxiously.

"takes alot of time and practice, its a whole lot of just replacing it."

he says, calm and soothing with his voice.

"wow, how much will it cost?" i ask him, taking out my wallet.

he pushed my walled away from him. 

"its on the house. I know who owns this guitar, and hes my best friend."

"you know billie?!" i ask, shocked.

"childhood best friend, and we still are good friends, but i guess we are kinda drifting ever since a few weeks ago, we stopped hanging out."

I know I caused that, but didn't say anything.

"Oh. Anyways, thanks for replacing it Mike. I owe you."

Grabbing the case and putting the blue guitar in it, I walked out, giving Mike a small smile.
Then I realized:
I'm not with billie. And I think he hates me.
The scene of him won't stop playing. I some how created a film in my head of billie pushing me away, screaming he would never want to see me again.
I can't stop thinking about him. Those clear, green eyes, his perfect, black curly hair, that smile.
He was perfect.
But the anger rose inside me, my face growing hot red, my jaw clenched.
I walked up on his doorstep, hesitating to knock.
I pulled my hand down from the door, and just put the guitar behind the tree, so nobody could see or steal it.

--
I walked along the rocky, cemented street, one strap over my shoulder.
I walk into my house.
Nobody home.
Thank you God.
I pack together everything, from clothes, to food, to water.
I'm leaving, running away from my problems.
I grab a sticky note from my desk and grab a shiny, purple pen.
"Dear mom,
I know what you will do when you see this, you'll never want to see me again.
The thing is, I'm gay, and I know you won't understand.
If I come back, I'll just be beaten.
What point is there to come back? Exactly, none. So enjoy your 'once straight' son, and you'll never see the gay one again.
       Sincerely,
                          TRÈ COOL."

And here, my journey begins.