Vulnerable

Thirteen- Andy

"WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING HERE!?"

We jolted away from each other as the doorway to Ryes room was filled with the angry figure of... his father.

"Dad, I can explain" Rye burst out, desperately trying to erase what had happened. Excuse me, what had just begun to happen, from existence. I could see he was very afraid, he was afraid that he would be rejected, he was afraid for me.

"WELL FROM MY PERSPECTIVE IT IS PRETTY CLEAR WHAT WAS HAPPENING. YOU WERE ABOUT TO KISS THAT BOY" his father yelled. The rage seething out of him in every word. His race was a scarlet red with pure, unrivaled anger.

"No, I mean... we were just hugging because we are both hurt and stuff. We are just friends."

'just friends' one phrase that ripped through me like a red-hot knife. I knew he was just saying that because he was afraid of what his father thinks, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"Damn right you are 'just friends' because I will not live under the same roof as a faggot. I will not have that... disease in this household. Especially not for... that". Ryes father gestured at me as he said 'that'. I was not going to cry, I had been through worse than this dammit. But hearing it from someone who wasn't my father was adding salt to an open wound. I hate homophobic slurs, of course. But what he said just made me feel awful, useless and not good enough for anyone. I know I am not good enough for Rye. I would say I have no friends, and he is 'Mr popular sporty guy'. Since my mother died we became polar opposites. I was foolish to think we could work.

"You know what Dad SO WHAT. What is so wrong with being able to be truly loved by someone and finding someone who cares for me back, despite the flaws" Rye retorted, I saw the sudden burst of confidence fade just as quickly as it had arisen. I wanted to reach out and hug him, to tell him he was not alone. However, the seething presence of his father struck enough fear into me to stand as still as a deer in headlights.

"Andy and I, we are more than friends. He is my boyfriend and I love him. so if you have that much of a problem being under the same roof as your son, who is in love. Then you can damn well leave, and know that you are a pathetic excuse for a father." Rye yelled. Not backing down from his point. I didn't want to be the cause of a rift in his family, but I couldn't help but feel sp warm inside and loved.

His father's red face seemed to simmer to a pinkish colour, his rage fading to embarrassment as he realized the depth of what Rye had said to him.

"Boy I am not okay with this in my home. I don't want to see it, hear about it, but I swear if I catch you and... him doing stuff like that again you will no longer have a place in this home. You will be the one to leave, as the disappointment, you obviously are" Rye's father sneered, a little awkwardly, but firmly.

All Rye could do was nod in submission. I could do nothing. I was too paralysed by fear, remembering the night my father found out about my sexual preferences. How differently it went. How it wasn't the words that were brutal.

*flashback*

At first, it seemed he wouldn't do anything, he was my father, right? we had been getting along really well together recently. He just picked himself off the sofa and left. I was a little hurt, but that is probably just because he was coming to terms with it.

We have not had a proper conversation since Mum got into the crash and I had felt like we needed this. To bond.

He didn't come back for hours, I began to get worried about him. On cue, a door slammed open and I ran down to see if he was okay. He looked at me in disgust, yelled at me, called me disgusting names. He grabbed me by the collar and held me in the air, I was thrown on the floor and he hit me. Over and over and over. That was the first-ever time he hit me properly, he only stopped to call me more names.

That is the moment I regretted most in my life. The day I told him I was gay.

*end of flashback*

I could see the fear and upset swirl in turmoil inside his beautiful deep eyes, it hurt me to see him like this. To see him broken. I knew how it felt, I also knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to go into the bathroom and take out the blade. He wanted to punish himself for... being himself.

"No" was all I could say. I felt him try to pull away from me and I grabbed his arms and pulled back the sleeves. It revealed what heartbreak would look like, but instead of looking at him with pity I bent down and kissed each and every mark. Showing him he was not a disappointment, these scars did not mean he was not good enough. We shared scars, they just made us who we are, they told a story of how perfectly imperfect we are.

I caressed his arms and knew he would not want to try the kiss again. He was too vulnerable for that much emotion to rush up. Instead, I pulled is soft brown head down onto his pillow and lay facing him. I knew what he felt and how he felt he could not do anything to prevent the fallout of the night's events. But he was there for me, hell, he saved me from probable death or near death. So I gazed at his face and watched as a tear leaked from his perfect eye down and beaded on the end of his nose. He lifted his arm to wipe the small droplet and as he let his hand fall back onto the mattress I caught it. I laced our fingers together and squeezed his hand gently. I wanted him to know that he was not alone.

Hours passed and I still found my worn and beaten self awake. Totally entranced by him. While he slept I noticed the little things, how he had long, fluffy eyelashes that were a shade darker than his hair. How his eyebrows filled out perfectly except for the one rogue hair that didn't fit the pattern.
His lovely golden skin which screamed his Spanish background and his full lips. So kissable. I loved every part of him, I wanted to grab him and press his lips to mine right now, but I couldn't. I didn't even know if he would still want me.

I looked down and saw our hands were still intertwined, his grip had loosened telling me he was asleep. It was safe to whisper to him. I did this to my mother, I felt that she could listen and love me, without respeonding. Me, being the awkward person I am didn't want to sau those things to his face. But, I needed to get them off my chest.

"I love you Rye, and no matter what you ever did or will do it will not ever change how I feel. And when you wake up, if you still want to be with me, I am going to show you how important you really are. You are my hero Rye. You have a beautiful soul and you do not deserve any ill-wishes or hate that you may receive just for finally being able to see yourself clearly. And never forget... ever how much I love you"

With that, I gently reached over to his side of the bed and brushed a few stray locks of his shiny curls from his face. Then so softly and so quietly I pecked him oh the tip of his nose to seal my little speech into my heart. I knew he would never hear those words, but I needed to tell him them. I didn't even know if he would like to hear them awake anyways. Not after all that had happened.

They were true, I loved him. He is who makes me strong and weak. Who makes me confident and shy. He makes me feel safe and vulnerable. He is everything I could dream for. Every little word that I said to him, was straight from my heart. I felt myself give a bit of me to him, he now held a piece of my heart in his possession.

I leave myself with this thought as I finally pull my focus away from him and rested my head into his pillow. With a sigh, I closed my eyes. The room was silent and I allowed a wave of drowsiness to wash over me.

But not before I heard; "I love you too Andy, more than you know."