Broken souls Boyxboy

Chapter 3: Unexpected Symapthy

Dalton's POV

"Get him, Sam. For fucks sake!" My voice screamed through the deafening head set. My eyes were glued to the monitor in front of me. My fingers rapidly fidgeted against the PS4 controller as I played Call of Duty 3 with boys from my school. I didn't like them too much, but they were good entertainment over the Play Station.

My intense game has to put on hold for a second, however, when my mother walked in.

"What?" I spat at her.

"Dinners ready, Hun." She tried to smile at me.

It was obvious she hated me. She was disappointed that she didn't have the perfect son who listened to her all the time and was caring and sweet and thoughtful. I tried to do and be all of those things, but I inevitably got bored and went back to my old ways of being careless and cold. The fact that she wished she had a better son didn't really bother me, what bothered me is how hard she tries to act like she loves me when I do horrific things. She needs to cut the crap and fake love she shows me, it's getting tiring now listening to her telling me that she's proud and that she loves me when she doesn't.

I groaned as I threw my controller onto the bed and dramatically jumped off of my chair, "Fine!" I rolled my eyes and pushed past her in the doorway.

"We have a visitor, Dalton, please be kind!" she shouted in a caring voice. God, it was so annoying!

"Whatever." I huffed as I made my way into the kitchen.

When I did, my attention turned to the visitor standing in front of me. He was a boy, shorter than me, with blond hair messily swept to the side, and bright blue eyes. Eyes that looked as if they held the ocean in them, unknown, undiscovered, and dangerous, but they were captivating. He looked beyond nervous and uncomfortable under my harsh stare, but I didn't mind, I was used to it.

He suddenly cleared his throated in order to cut some of the awkwardness that he was feeling and held out his small hand for me to shake. Yeah, no thanks. Touching people isn't really my thing. I'm not a germaphobe, just not a people person, at all.

I walked past him, not missing the embarrassment that sparked within his eyes when I did, and grabbed my food before shuffling back upstairs to the comfort of my room. I switched my tv to Netflix and played Brooklyn Nine-Nine, whilst digging into my food.

Before I knew it, I had finished my food and was already on my journey to take it down to the kitchen. Once I entered, I threw my plate into the sink. As I was about to walk off, something caught my eye. On the side, next to the sink, lay a backpack; it was slightly ripped and scuffed, and it wasn't mine which lead me to believe it belonged to the boy I kind of met earlier. However, there was something, in particular, that caught my attention. It was a scrap of paper, crumpled up and carelessly shoved into the bag. I could see it as two of the creased corners were peeping out of one of the holes of the beaten bag.

Curiosity got the better of me and I quietly pulled the paper out of the backpack and into my hands. As I began to inspect it, I realised it was a letter, I should have stopped at that point, it was too personal for a stranger to be reading, but I didn't, instead, I started to read it.

Dear Jack,

We have packed your bag with a few items of clothing and £50 to get some food. We can no longer allow you to live in this house after we found out about you being gay, that is a sin. You are going against God and everything this family has worked hard to build; therefore, we can not let our abomination of a son ruin everything just because he is selfish enough to want boys instead of girls like God has taught you to. You have rebelled against your own parents and your religion and so we had to act. Don't bother coming back home, you will not be allowed in under any circumstances. Have a good life and we hope you make the right decisions and find a way to fix yourself again.

-Your Parents.

At first, I was confused but soon I realised this letter had been written to the other boy, who was sitting in our dining room right now.

I knew I was cold, and nasty, but this...

This letter was straight up evil. That poor boy who had seemed so happy and cheerful had actually been kicked out of his house because of something as little as his sexuality, his parents had seriously practically disowned him over something as stupid as who he fucking loved. That was evil. He was homeless, and without a family.

A sharp pang of sympathy ran through my veins, I had to help him. I don't know why. I'd never felt the need to help anyone before but I could hear his laughter coming from the dining room and if you listened closely, you could hear the subtle signs of pain in his voice. I had to help him.

I marched into the dining room and everyone stopped in their conversations and looked at me, nervously.

"Mum, can I speak to you?" I mumbled, but she heard, and instantly smiled, getting up from her seat and excusing herself from the table.

We entered the kitchen and I closed the door behind me before walking over to the sink. I grabbed the letter and spun around to face my mother. She was about to ask what was wrong, but before she could get a word out, I had shoved the paper into her hands.

"It's Jack's, I found it." She looked up with wide eyes.

"Just read it, please."

She nodded and carefully opened the crumpled paper, before examining the words and taking them in. After ten seconds or so, her jaw dropped and she raised her free hand to cover her mouth. Her eyes were wide and her eyebrows furrowed.

Before I knew it, she had shoved the paper hastily back into my grip and clenched her jaw.

"They- They are monsters, his parents are horrible." I nodded in agreement, looking down at the floor. "I, I have to do something." She demanded bleakly before spinning and rushing back into the dining room. A second later, my father was getting dragged into the kitchen and the door was being shut again. I knew she was going to show my dad the letter and ask him what to do, I also figured the boy, Jack, was sitting, alone and probably uncomfortable in the dining room so I ignored my parents debate and slipped myself into the room and sat across from the boy, where my mother had sat previously.

His eyes widened as he watched me take my seat, was he scared of me?

"Hey." I muttered, trying but failing to sound friendly, I can't blame myself though, it isn't as if being friendly is my number one skill.

"H-hi." He stuttered, keeping his gaze on his fidgeting fingers that lay gently against the table.

"What's wrong, you seem really tense, mate." I spoke as gently as I could, it probably didn't help though.

"Nothing's w-wrong." He stuttered once again.

Wow, I make this kid nervous. I could hear him talking perfectly and laughing when I was in the kitchen, now he can't say a word properly.

Before I could push him further though, my mother and father entered, worried looks on both of their faces. They both glanced at Jack with a hint of sympathy and then my mother focused on me and subtly gestured for me to exit the room. That was fine with me, I had had enough human interaction for about a week.

I left without saying another word and wandered to my room, collapsing on my bed and continuing my game of Call of Duty.