Red Is The Color Of Sin | septiplier

19 | acceptance

| @cringelee's chapter |

Jack was dreading the thought of going home, but he knew that if he stayed away any longer, his father would get the police involved. Jack took a deep breath as he slowly opened his front door, hoping that his father would still be asleep. Unfortunately, he wasn't. He was sitting in the living room, obviously waiting for Jack.

"I'm home," Jack said in a quiet voice.

"You were at his house all night, weren't you?" His father eyed the flannel, which Jack had forgotten he was wearing. 

Jack sighed. "I was."

"Come here and sit down. Now," his father gestured towards the chair across from him, and Jack sat down meekly. "I don't want you to see that boy anymore."

Jack's fingers twitched, and he intertwined them nervously. "Why?"

His father raised his eyebrows, surprised that Jack had spoken back to him. "Why? Because I refuse to believe that you're.. gay. It's a sin, Jack. You know we don't sin," his father leaned forward in his chair a bit, desperate to get the point across.

"Who cares that it's a sin? Is it really a sin to love someone? To be happy? Why can't you just accept that I'm gay?" Jack was near tears. He felt so frustrated.

"Maybe this is just a phase. We can fix you-"

Jack stood up, hearing enough. "No, you can't! You can't fix something that's not broken! You're my father, you're supposed to support and accept me, not hit me because I love someone. You say it's a sin to be gay, but doesn't God say we should love and accept everyone? Then how come you can't accept me?"

Jack sat back down weakly, holding back a sob. He had wanted to say this for a while now, and now that he had said it, he didn't know if it would change anything. He glanced over at his father helplessly, surprised to find that he was at a loss for words.

He stood up once more, barely looking at his father. "I'm heading upstairs. I'll be doing school work." Then he went to his room and shut the door, throwing himself onto his bed. He didn't even reach for his backpack.

Later that night, Jack and his dad ate their dinner silently. Neither of them uttered a word. Jack wasn't too hungry, since he was still a bit upset, and he just kept moving his food around with his fork.

"Jack," his father started, and Jack instantly thought he was going to get yelled at so he began eating.

"Sorry," he said as he stopped moving his food around and ate it instead.

His father, though, set down his fork. "No, it's fine. I wanted to talk about our conversation earlier." When Jack didn't respond, he continued. "I thought about what you said, and I realize I've been dealing with this incorrectly, and I'm sorry. You're right; about everything you said, Jack."

Jack stopped eating and looked up at his father, unsure of whether he was hearing him correctly.

His dad sighed. "You're my son, and I should support you, no matter what. So, what I'm saying is.. You can keep seeing that boy. As long as he makes you happy, then I don't see a problem with it." He looked down at his plate, then hesitantly looked over at Jack.

Jack felt himself smile a little. "Thank you."