Is Close The Closest Star•Joshler

.^*•HeavyHeart•*^.

I just did it
Here ya guys go
Enjoy my first ever published book.
I'm gonna actually try ok ok ok let's DO THIS!
TRIGGER WARNING BASICALLY FOR THE WHOLE BOOK OK YOUVE BEEN WARNED.

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"Dad! Please! I have no where else to go!"

"I don't give a fuck Tyler! I didn't ask for a faggot son! Now stop touching everything and get out, you are a disgrace to this family!"

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The small brunette boy was giddy and happy before he walked in through the doors of his so be it, home.

He never even had the scenario come across his mind, so he didn't bother changing out of his clothes.

Brendon dropped him off from the house warming party for Pete.

It was probably the most happy Tyler has ever been for years, it was refreshing.

There were balloons, cake, alcohol, and the sweet sound of laughter.

Tyler felt so pretty when he left the house that night-oh and he was absolutely outstanding-, but that changed when his father happened to be home early.

Red lips, mascara, and a crop top to match his skirt.

He rummaged through his magenta clutch bag for his spare house key.

Tyler wiggled the key into the lock wanting to escape the bitter coldness of the middle of autumn.

The boy grimaced as he opened the door, the sour, intoxicating smell of beer and cigars overwhelming him.

He didn't even bother to be quiet because his father works night shifts till his raise.

But how stupid could he be to think that the smell of poison couldn't be possible without the presence of his father?

The boy twirls in his short, bubbly skirt and spins on his heel, kicking his wedges off one by one.

Tyler takes a moment to forget the cancerous sticks laying on the floor, empty beer bottles littering the tables, and the past events that have led up to all of this.

He sings a sweet tune to himself, just because the boy rarely had moments of positivity in this house hold.

The brunette was so caught up in his angelic voice that he didn't hear the clank of footsteps getting closer and closer to him.

"Tyler? What are you wearing? And where the fuck were you?"

The rosy cheeked boy was startled by the slurred words of a mans deep voice.

The voice that was unmistakably his drunk fathers.

"Dad! I thought- I thought you were working late tonight!"

"So that means you get to dress like a fucking faggot? Why do I even bother to take you to church if you are only going to be a mistake left to be forgotten?"

Tyler's heart drops to his toes that are stuck to the hardwood floor.

He can't move or breath.

"Da-dad please, you-"

The man takes his weight off the wall and points his half empty beer at the shocked boy.

"Don't fucking call me dad. You aren't worthy to be my son."

The rosy cheeked boys heart melts into a jumble of hatred.

He cries because he will never be accepted.

He cries because his mother had to die.

He cries out of pure anger towards his homophobic father.

"Dad! Please! Why can't you just listen to your own son!"

"I don't care if you're my son! I don't care what you have to say! Just get off of my god damn property! Now!"

Tyler's father throws the bottle at the side of the door frame, trying to hit the boy out of frustration.

The brunette is all too familiar with the sound of glass hitting and spreading across the ground.

The man slumps onto the couch and laughs hysterically.

The last think Tyler had seen was his fathers red face filled with pure shock.

"My son is a fucking gay! A fucking gay!"

Tyler is running out the door with a heavy heart and his phone.

He sprints through his neighborhood that held memories that could have never been forgotten.

He try's and oh so dearly wants to forget how everything could have taken a turn for the worse.

Cold, bone chilling air whips at his tear covered face, as he heads no where in particular.

He isn't paying attention to the cold cement hitting his socked feet.

He only runs.

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Short lil chapter for a kickstart to this great book.
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Stay alive you guys|-/