It's been a year since Clay, otherwise known as Porkchop, planned the graduation event in Newport Beach. The event where a handsome Tyler Hamilton caught Clay off guard by kissing him. Clay, up until that day, had never kissed a boy before.
At 24 ye...
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LYING beside Tyler with his arms wrapped around my bare chest was like the warmest blanket. The best feeling, after everything that we just did. Because, well... What we did was kind of amazing.
Tyler nuzzled his face into my chest and pressed his lips to my bare skin.
"I love you," he said quietly onto my skin while my fingers traced aimless circles on his stomach. "I've always had a hard time saying that, and I've been trying to find the way to say it for a while."
"I think I fall in love pretty easily. I love a lot of people, not in the way that I know I love you," I replied. "But it's hard to say the words sometimes. They're not light words—"
"—they're heavy," Tyler said, completing my sentence. "They mean a lot."
"Well," I said, holding him and kissing his forehead, "I love you."
"I fucking love hearing you say that," Tyler muttered. "Maybe we just won't leave here. This spot. It's too good. Too comfortable."
"Except we should," I said, "because it's the holidays and your family might want to actually see you. I don't want them to hate me for stealing their son."
"You haven't stolen me. Just my heart," Tyler said, holding his fist to his chest dramatically. "And they'd never hate you. I'm pretty sure my entire family loves you. If not more than they love me."
"Not true," I said.
"Nah, probably not, since I'm their literal genetics compiled into a body. However," Tyler looked up at me, "they do really like you. They think you're amazing, and I know for a fact that they're super glad you're spending Christmas with us all.
"I didn't tell them about your ... parent situation," he said, touching a small nerve when I remembered the bad thoughts I was pushing away. "It's not my business to tell them your private life shit unless you're okay with it, or want me to. But ... I know I grew up with the best parents. I'm really fucking lucky. Great parents, pretty standard sick siblings, nice place, good shit. It's my brain that fucked me over and made things bad for me. But above all that, I still had my family to count on. I've taken them for granted when I know I shouldn't.
"I just want to say, I guess ... that I know what your parents did sucks, and it hurts, and it's the fucking worst. And it might not even mean much, but my family loves you. I love you, and you're always gonna be a part of our crazy, slightly chaotic family. Whether you like it or not, really. I don't see myself losing touch with the great and unequaled Porkchop."
I literally died.
If my heart could get any warmer, it did.
My parents weren't a topic I wanted to think about. Eventually, I knew I'd have to face them. Maybe there would have to be a big conversation, but hopefully, it wouldn't be the worst thing. No matter how much it hurt. It was still an open wound, and I didn't really want to touch it until it closed up a bit. My parents would have to understand that, and if they didn't, then I'd maybe just lose them for good.
