Plenty of Treasures

Influence

Note: I have no experience in this situation, personally, so I'm sorry if it's unrealistic or if anybody finds it offensive! I never mean to offend anybody. I'm gay myself, so I'm definitely not homophobic and I don't want to romanticise it in any way. I especially don't want to romanticise someone being disowned by their family for being part of the lgbtq+ community.

Pairing(s): Prinxiety and background Logicality

Warnings: Strong language, homophobia, homophobic slurs, brief mention of racism, misunderstanding, talk of disowning family, and panic attacks
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It all starts with an offhand comment by his mother.

Virgil is still rather young, probably around seven or eight years old, so he doesn't completely understand what the word 'faggot' means, but it leaves a strange uncomfortable pang in his chest. When his father laughs at a joke his mother makes about a 'faggot from work', Virgil doesn't quite know how to feel.

What does it mean? If his father is laughing at it, then it can't be too bad, can it? He eventually relaxes and continues to colour in the puppy sitting on the page of his colouring book.

He's around ten years old when he finally gets a definition of what a 'faggot' is.

Unnatural, apparently. When a girl likes a girl, and when a boy likes another boy. Virgil can see the disgust in his father's eyes as he explains this to him. He innocently asks why it's so bad to be a 'faggot', but his father sends him a glare so rage-filled and heated that Virgil almost takes a step backwards in fear. "Because it's wrong. Men are born to be with women and women were born to be with men. We're supposed to have children, Virgil, like when your aunt had your cousin Remy. She could only do that because she is married to a man. Don't you love your cousin?"

And of course he does. Remy was born a few months after he was, but he was Virgil's best friend. He feels guilty for asking about it and apologises softly, earning a smile and a hand ruffled through his hair in return. In another method of apology, he promises his father that he will never become a 'faggot'.

This earns him a bark of laughter and a pat on the shoulder.

Virgil is only a year or two older when he learns the proper name for them. Homosexuals. Lesbians. Gay people. There are more, but his mother just says that they're simply looking for attention by trying to make up a sexuality. Virgil isn't completely sure what a sexuality is yet, but he nods along with her because she's his mother, so she's probably right.

There's something called a 'Gay Pride Parade', and it's going on in town. Since town isn't too far from where he lives, his parents are extremely unhappy about the homosexuals marching down the street and making unnecessary amounts of noise. Virgil remembers following his dad's example and sticking his tongue out at a few people walking past. They're dressed in beautiful bright colours. A rainbow. Virgil wants to smile at it, but knows he'll be yelled at by his parents if he does.

Instead of looking angry with him, the people outside just look sad. He doesn't quite know why.

When Virgil is seventeen, he loses his best friend.

Apparentlly, the homosexuals have diseased him. Made him gay. That's what his mother tells him anyway. Remy tries to tell them that he's 'pansexual' and not gay, but the rest of his family just tell him to 'shut the fuck up' and pack his things.

Virgil watches his cousin stumble up the stairs, hears him clambering around for a while, and then sees him come back downstairs carrying a pink duffle bag. His dad sneers and crosses his arms over his chest, gesturing vaguely to the bag over his shoulder. "Fucking faggot. Of course you'd choose a pink bag."