It's A Gay Thing

1 //

First story :)

Note: this isn't my main project. Thus, this story will be updated only when time lets me. It's not supposed to be all that, just a way to keep me writing, even if I'm stuck in my bigger works. I haven't plotted for this story... so, anything is possible.

Enjoy! x

1 // Pris

Yes, I'm named after a city.

Pristina, currently the capital of Kosovo, was the honeymoon destination chosen by my parents. My mom, apparently, loved it so much, that she felt compelled to name me after the city. That and, on a drunken night, my dad admitted that I was conceived there. Ew, I know.

I get in the car, with my luggage in the trunk. It's the end of the summer with my dad. It's time to return to my mom, to my friends, to school, and to Angie. I can't wait to see Angie again. She only waves at me in the hallways, but that's enough for me.

As I'm in front of Gate H, my dad stares at me. He lets out a long sigh and refuses to look away from me. I'm used to it. My dad's the type of person that won't show emotions. I guess it would lower his male ego? I don't know. I've learned to accept that that's how he functions on the daily basis.

"Guess that's the end, kiddo," he tells me, his voice cracking as the intercom bellows my gate number, instructing passengers to board the airplane.

His composure is normally uptight, standing firmly on the ground, his back rigid like a pole. Yet, right now, he's hunched over.

"Yeah, it is," I reply.

He pulls me into a hug. It's a heartwarming and pleasant. My parents' divorce never bothered me too much, because now, I can at least study in peace without any screaming distracting me. The hardest part is always leaving my dad. I only see him four times a year, and I have so much fun with him. We just make the best of the situation. Unfortunately, he lives three hours away from my regular life.

He pulls out and kisses my cheek with a slight smile on his face. He takes a step back and watches me, as I maneuver around this labyrinth of an airport. I finally end up in my assigned seat. Usually, I doze off once on the plane. For some reason, I'm always sleepy.

I hate the weight of goodbyes. They only last a few minutes, but in that instant, it might as well be eternity. Feelings peak at their highest and uncontrollable reactions occur. I guess, the part nobody likes about goodbyes is the finality, the "letting go" process, especially, when you don't want to let go. I dislike leaving my dad at the end of a school break, but I also know that I will see him the next school break. It makes things a bit lighter to carry. Letting go of someone like Angie however - well, that means forever.

I set up my headphones so I can jam to The 1975 while on the flight. Girls or Chocolate, Girls or Chocolate, Girls or Chocolate - I'll go with Girls first.

* * *

The bumpy landing wakes me up. Music is still blasting through my ears, which doesn't surprise me, given that I've always been able to sleep through intense noise. My dad always tells me, "Pris, you could sleep through a hurricane." I probably could.

The fact remains that I have arrived home. I grab my suitcases and make my way out of the airport, into the parking lot, waiting for my mom to pick me up. I look around and I don't see her. I glance to my right and a red Cadillac is parked, with a tall man leaning against it. Neil.

My stepfather and I have a peculiar relationship. That, I'll admit. We could watch TV together and have a good laugh at the same jokes, but on the regular basis, we fight like cat and dog. His incessant teasing and mockery sends me over the edge.