even if he falls.

"Mom. Dad. Shit." I stumble over my words in front of my worried parents. They're sitting on the couch and I'm pacing the floor in front of the coffee table. I stare at the floor, attempting go build the courage to tell the secret I've kept for almost 18 years. The fact that they didn't yell at my language worries me. I know their reaction is gonna be shit, why the fuck did I do this.

"Get out with it, Tom. Your mother and I are worried," my father said with a stern tone. That's the first time they've said something about each other without it being an insult in years. Fuck I shouldn't be thinking about his now. My mind is racing faster than it ever has and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. The only thing I can do is just get it out, and fuck, that's what I'm gonna do.

"Jesus Christ," I grumble to myself.

"Mom, Dad, I'm bi."

It was short and simple, but dear god, those 4 words changed the entire fucking world.

My father looked furious and my mother burst into tears. My father stood up and instantly took a stance of dominance. I backed up until I ran into a wall. He kept on coming towards me and grabbed my shirt collar, taking it into a fist. I'm 6 ft 4 inches tall, but at this point in time, I've never felt smaller.

He screamed in my face. The one who attends the home of God, the one supposed to love and accept everyone, is spitting words of venom in my face. I hear my mother sobbing violently and can't do anything but brace for the impact of my father. He was finished with his speech and threw me on the ground.

"I will not have a fag living in my house. Take your shit and get out."

He spit on my face and kicked me a few times. He left and went over to my mother and I used the stairs to get myself up. I ran to my bedroom and locked my door. I grabbed the black duffel bag from the bottom of my closet. I put all the clothes I needed in, along with some CD's and books and other little things. I grabbed the box that I had been saving my money in for the past few years. I ripped the duct tape and counted it.

A little over $600. I stuffed it in my bag and grabbed anything else I thought I'd need. I grabbed the picture of my siblings and I and put it at the top of the bag. I put my phone in my pocket and put my guitar in my case. It might be big but it could double as another source of income. Even if it's a small amount, I don't know how long I'll be on my own.

I looked sound my room for the last time and got out of my house as quick as possible. I headed west toward the beach. I always came here when I was faced with some bump in the road. I stopped at a picnic table and put my stuff down, finally allowing myself to deal with what just happened. I put my bags in front of me and rested my legs on them. I put my head down on the table and just let it out. I let myself sob. I scratch at my arms and hands and the soon drew blood although I didn't notice. 

I was startled by the sound of someone sitting on the bench across from me. It was a man, probably in his early twenties. I wiped my eyes and he gave me a soft smile.

"What are you doing here all alone," he asked innocently.

I shook my head, wiping my face with my sleeve and he watched intently.

"Well," I saod, my voice still really shaky, "I guess it's a long story."

"I've got the rest of the week off," he said, pushing a can of coke towards me as he opened his.

"I'm Mark by the way. Nice to me you-"

"Tom," I interrupted. "Nice to meet you as well, Mark."

He stuck out his hand and I shook it. His hands were rough and his grip was firm and something about the simple touch made my heart race. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and his hair dyed purple. The man was peculiar to say the least, but intriguing and seemingly kind nonetheless.