Chapter Eight

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When I got home that day I was pretty much still running over all the possible outcomes of what would happen to that teacher. Would they fire him for being homophobic? Would they think we were in the wrong? Would I get in trouble?

I don't like sounding like an asshole but I hoped he would get fired. I mean I couldn't stand another lesson with the guy, I think I'd have to make myself pick between punching the guy and desperately trying to make it up to him. My grades are in his hands.

Damn. Decisions. They were never my cup of tea.

I slid the key in the lock just as the door was pulled open and my father was there glaring down at me.

Was he mad at me? Oh my god. Did he call home? My father might not be abusive but he could still be scary as all hell. I hated getting in trouble with him.

"Go on then Mylo." He said, gesturing towards the kitchen and stepping back a couple paces as I walked slowly in the entry to my home and dumped my backpack on the shoe rack like I always did, only this time a lot less haphazardly.

I was being wary. Why did he want me in the kitchen? It was nowhere near dinner time.

"We need to finish the discussion of ours this morning." He explained.

I inwardly groaned. That, in a sense, was worse than Mr Lester phoning up my dad with a bunch of random excuses to indicate I was a bad kid. I was pretty much convinced he would be proud of me once I told him the details. Whereas telling him the details of the party I'd attended was sure to go down like bitter water.

"I have homework." I protested silently.

He glared at me and I took a seat in front of him. "Well then you can get it out and do it here."

I had practically no homework. The one time it could have gotten me out of something worse than the prospect of receiving some and I had none. I mean apart from a couple French exercises that I had left till the last minute, but they were in my locker back at school anyway.

I sighed and kept my hands under the table as I fidgeted nervously. "What do you want to know?" I asked straight out. I was going to let him get all his screaming out and then go upstairs and be house bound by him as though I had wanted anything else, I'm pretty much a social recluse anyway.

"Did you sleep with Darren?" He asked for what seemed to be the fifth time since this morning. "I'm only asking you once more and if you lie I will go over to his house and ask him myself!"

Oh god. That was the last thing I needed in my slowly mending relationship with Darren, my father screaming in his face and humiliating me over a simple stupid misunderstanding because of his now increasingly frustrating sister.

"Dad I swear to god I didn't!"

"How far did you go then?" He replied almost right away.

I felt my eyes widen. Whoa. Considering the fact that he himself had struggled coming to terms with my sexuality a long while back (which mostly consisted of him visibly avoiding me before eventually giving in to fatherly love) it seemed like a massive feat for him to ask intimate details from what he so strongly believed had been a sexual occasion.

"No... No dad I really did nothing! I just slept in his bed really!"

"You're both naked, you have bloody murder hickeys all up your neck and you're cuddled in his arms in his bed. Oh of course. Nothing fucking happened. I see." He was practically shouting at this point and that meant I found myself flinching at every word.

Her Brother, My Master (boyxboy) ✓Where stories live. Discover now