FreeTheLGBT: Anthology

Change & Acceptance

Entry by PolychromePixie

Snowflakes languidly drifted through the air, swayed and swirled around, reflecting the myriad of colours, Tokyo's billboards dyed the night with.

Ichiro leaned his head against the window's cold glass and watched how the whole city slowly got covered by a white blanket as he addressed his father anew.

"Dad, um ... what would you say if I'd change my appearance?"

"Hm... Aren't you growing your hair? So, technically, you're already in the middle of a change."

Ichiro rolled his eyes. "Smartass."

His father snickered in response.

"It's your body, and you should be happy with it. So, do it because I want to see my son happy."

Smiling, Ichiro lightly tapped his curled index finger against his lips. "Yeah..."

"What do you have in mind?"

He stepped away from the window and sat down on his bed. His gaze shifted to his open sketchbook and wandered across rough sketches of split tongues, fangs, and various body parts with piercings before he focused back at the call.

"Well, I thought about tattoos and piercings, and stuff like that."

"M-hm... All of it?"

"Yep."

"Okay. As I said, whatever makes you happy, son."

"But, you might be shocked when you see me next year."

His father's rich laughter reverberated in his ear.

"That could happen, sure, but it wouldn't last long. Hey, how about small dosages?"

Ichiro knit his brows. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we could see each other before your birthday — before your to-do list is full of checkmarks. Then, I won't be confronted with everything at once. Oh! And then you could also already let me know what you wanted to tell me in person! Sounds like a solid plan if you ask me. Waiting till November is torture, you know?"

He could hear the smile in his father's voice, the excitement and faint hope that he would get a different answer this time, but Ichiro had to fail him again. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and, although his father couldn't see it, shook his head.

"That's not possible. Mother won't let me, dad."

"You're an adult, you don't need her permission anymore."

Suddenly, Richard's voice was void of its usual warmth; sounded powerless, sad and bitter instead.

Ichiro knew he drove a dagger into his father's heart whenever he wasn't strong enough to control his own destiny — and he despised himself for doing so. Hated himself for being a coward.

"We want you to be with us, Ichi. Please, come to Australia. Live with us. Be selfish for once."

Tears of anger and frustration welled up in his eyes as his father's desperate plea pulled him out of his momentarily self-loathe.

"Dad, I—"

The sudden clicking sound of the apartment's front door cut him off and immediately sent a shiver down his spine.

"She's home. I'm sorry, I have to hang up."

"Ichi, wait, Claire wanted to—"

"Next time, I promise. Tell Claire, I love her, and I love you too, dad. Merry Christmas."

Ichiro pushed the button to end the call as the door to his room flung open. His mother glared at him before she let her gaze wander about the neat place.

"Clean this filthy dumpster, you got that?"

Ichiro bowed his head. "Yes."

"And shouldn't you study?"

"Actually, I'm already—"

"Actually, actually," Arisa repeated in a mocking tone before she slammed her hand onto his desk. "Sit down, and study! And, for crying out loud, get yourself finally a hairdresser's appointment; you look like a swab! What will people think? You embarrass me!"

She closed the door with a bang, leaving her son behind who decided to stop fighting his tears.

He laid down on his bed, curled up into a ball and pulled a picture from the secret panel of his sketchbook. It showed a handsome young man of Ichiro's age, standing behind the counter of a bar. His name was Takuya, a colleague from Ichiro's workplace, which he kept hidden from his mother, as it was a gay bar.

And Takuya wasn't just a mere colleague, but the guy Ichiro was dating.

'What will people think? You embarrass me!'

His mother's words echoed in his ears, showing him once more that he could never even think about coming out to her, as she already abused him for small things.

Ichiro shoved the picture back into his sketchbook and turned a few pages until he reached a specific one. It showed a drawing of himself with long, rainbow-coloured hair.

A quote from Lao Tzu was written beneath it.

'Care about what other people think, and you will always be their prisoner.'

He knew he was as much his mother's prisoner as she was the prisoner of strangers whom she was desperate to please.

Yet, it wasn't too late for him to break free, and his father gave him hope to muster up the courage to do so.

'I want to see my son happy.'

Ichiro closed his sketchbook and shoved it back underneath his pillow. His vision was still blurry, but the tears on his cheeks were already dried.

He switched off the lamp and turned on his back, looked at the beams of neon light that painted the ceiling and closed his eyes.

When we see each other again, dad, my shell won't be the same anymore. I will have long hair and tattoos and piercings. I will wear mascara, lipgloss, and eyeliner; peculiar vintage clothes and have painted long nails.

I will tell you that I like guys. That I date them. That I have relationships with them — and I know that at least you will accept it.

Because you want me to be happy.

Because you love me for who I am, dad.

And I love you too.

___

Winning entry of the National Coming Out Day Contest.