Little Things (L.S.)

I just want to be loved

Louis' POV

It eventually gets dark and I have to go "home" to my so called "mum." So, I walk home in utter silence and darkness. But it's OK because I actually, for once, like the silence.

It takes me about 10 minutes to get "home." And when I'm in the driveway, I know she's home and I really don't want to deal with her questions about where I've been and all the stuff.

Sometimes I just wish I could have some of my mum's money and just move out or run away. Anything to get away from here would be lovely. I mean, I know I haven't talked or came out to her, but I know that if I did, she wouldn't love me anymore or she would disown me.

How could someone not love their child because of who they like? That's fucked up.

I walk up to the porch and open the door. You'd think my mum would lock the door at night, but sometimes she's an idiot and she doesn't.

I walk in and take of my shoes and place them by the door. The kitchen light is on, so I know she must be in there, cooking, or reading the paper, or just enjoying a cup of tea.

I make motion to walk in there and prepare myself for her ridiculous questions. Once I walk into the kitchen, I stand right in front of her. She's sitting at the table, reading the paper and sipping on a cup of tea.

She must've not heard the door open and close or my footsteps, so I clear my throat and announce my presence. She looks up at me and cocks an eyebrow.

"Louis, where have you been? I have been worried about you all night," she says as she puts down the paper and takes of her reading classes.

"First of all, I was with Harry, we were watching the sunset. Secon-"

"Louis that sounds like something a faggot would say, you don't have to lie to me about where you have been," my heart drops at the word, reminding me that she is indeed a homophobic dick,"- you could've at least called telling me where you were."

"Second, of all," I say, finishing what I was going to say before she interrupted me"- it's only 8:30, which is not "all night." I say as I turn on my heel and walk away.

"Louis, what are you wearing?" She asks too calm for my liking and I'm a bit scared that she's talking about my panties, which I don't remember putting on, but I never really where boxers other than in front of my family or something. I don't want to turn around and face her, so I keep my back to her.

"What do mean?" I ask a bit nervous.

"Are you wearing girl's underwear?" Fúck, fúckety fúck fúck. She knows. She can't know. I don't really care that she's my mother, but if she kicks me out, I have no where to go.

"What?-No, those are for girls," I say as normal as I can, and I fail miserably.

"Louis, I can see pink lace poking out from your trousers-come here, right now," she says sternly.

I don't want to upset her any more, so I turn around and slowly walk over to her. She grabs the unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down a little so that my panties are exposed. And I cover my area with my small hands and I start to blush because, well she's my mum.

"Louis, only faggots and sinners wear women's clothing! And no son of mine will be a faggot." I start to tear up because I'm scared that she will hurt me"-Louis, men are not supposed to wear clothes made for women. Are you a disgusting faggot Louis? Is that what you are?" She says with utter disgust as I pull up my trousers.

"You're right mother, no son of yours is a faggot, because I am not your son and you are and never will be my mother. And I am not a faggot, I am gay, there is a difference-" I feel a stinging on my left cheek and it takes me a moment to process that the bítch has slapped me.

"Go up to your room, Louis, I don't want to catch the gayness, I need to go wash my hands. You will get help Louis, we will get rid of this-this....disease." She says as she shoos me and goes to wash her hands so that she doesn't "catch the gayness."

This woman disgusts me and I am ashamed to say that this is my birth giver. I walk up to my room and face plant onto my mattress. I feel like crying, I have no other family left, knowing that she will probably open her big mouth and soon enough, my whole family will know and I will have no one that loves me.

I don't deserve this, no one deserves this. What have I done to get this kind of treatment? My eyes start to water and tears flow out of my eyes.

I start sobbing into my pillow ask myself these same questions.

I just want to be loved, is that so much of me to ask?

I just want to be loved.

AN Ugh, I hate using the f-word.

I am not homophobic. And I don't think clothes have labels, there is no gender for clothes. That's just a suggestion. So you can be whatever gender you want and wear whatever you want. I see no problem with that. Anyways, thanks for reading, tell me of there are any mistakes, and don't forget to check put my other stories. Well, bye. :)