The First Time I Believed

Chapter 1

All I've done since I met him is dream of him. It is cliché, lousy and depressing, but ironically, he's the opposite of these. I am merely a teenager, governed by hormones and an underdeveloped frontal lobe. Making rational decisions and not being emotional about everything in my sight is simply not wired in my brain.

Grant stands next to me with a drink in his hand, chatting with a group of relatively under-dressed girls. He has to be close to them and raise the volume of his voice above normal for them to hear anything he is saying. They are giggling and getting closer to him. One of the girls, a dark skinned lassie with impossibly perfect skin, a well-defined jawline and short, kinky hair seemed to catch Grant's attention.

I stand awkwardly, praying to some god that this encounter would be over. I'm not a very social person, nor do I think I will ever be a social person. Being inside the colourfully lit house makes my eyes sore, and they do nothing to relieve the small headache I am experiencing. Thankfully, photosensitive epilepsy isn't something I have to worry about.

Grant continues to chat with the girls, so I walked away without him noticing (I doubt he noticed me when I was standing close him anyway). I walk around the large, tastefully decorated house. It is crowded by a sea of gyrating bodies that have consumed enough alcohol to constitute a brewery. People are grinding up against each other and have drinks in their red solo cups. I feel as though I couldn't fit in with anybody. I want to go home, or to Grant's house.

I slip out of the house to the less crowded backyard to get a breath of fresh air, and as I stand outside in the cold of the nighttime air, I could hear the muffled sounds of the booming music inside, and people screaming with the change of songs. I don't understand everybody's obsession with rap or hip hop. I don't know if this is because I'm gay or just because I'm me, but I like pop. The likes of Ariana Grande, Bebe Rexha, Camila Cabello and Britney Spears. I listen to them almost exclusively, and yes, I know how cliché it is for me to listen to these artists, but their styles do appeal to me much more.

As I stand outside, leaning against the gazebo overlooking the semi-crowded swimming pool, I take a breath of the brisk air, and just enjoy the tingling feeling my skin gets when the breeze would blow.

The stillness directly contrasts the chaos that is my home.

My dad, who can never let there be a moment of calm in the house, seems to think that I'm the reason that he's an abusive drunkard, and that he doesn't live in a bigger, better house.

The only reason my mom and dad are together is because they had me (I suspect that I was an accidental pregnancy). My mom became pregnant while she was in her second last year of medical school. Obviously, with all the commitments, she wouldn't be able to take care of me. My father, who is about 6 years older than my mom, took care of me after I was born. They had lived in a small apartment close to the university where my mom studied, and close to where she did her residency. After the completion of her residency (when I was around 6 years old) my mom and dad got married, out of obligation it seemed.

Later, my mom and dad bought a house together. They lived 'happily ever after' and then I grew up. To my 'surprise', they seem to be on the verge of divorce. After my mom lost her job because of all the abuse she endure, she took got another job. It broke my heart to see her not following her passion or pursue any other option because of some drunken idiot.

The screaming matching they would have in their bedroom never failed to frighten me. What if he lost control? What if I was too paralysed by fear to do anything for her? It's almost like a downpour: before I know it, I'm already drenched.

"Hey," a deep, familiar voice says, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look beside me, and there he stands, Adrian. He's slightly taller than me, has short dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a fairly defined jawline. He isn't a complete stereotype. In fact, some people don't find him attractive at all, but he is very popular among the school population. He plays rugby and soccer for our school, and also does swimming. I don't know the rules of either due to my severe deficit in the athleticism department.