Honey and Spice | ✔️

Chapter 24

Nathan

Okay, I’m quite certain I’m gay.

I mean, I’ve always been but now I’m very sure of it.

I did my research and did some quizzes (probably inaccurate but just to be sure). I'm gay . . . or maybe demisexual too, but I'm not sure. ‘Gay’ feels right for me. 

And I’ve been having this immense urge to tell my parents so here I am pushing my food around at dinner. I’m thinking of what to say and how should I phrase it. Should I just say “I’m gay” or should I be extravagant like “Parents, your second son is a homosexual” or should I mumble out “I like boys”? Or should I say, “I hereby announce I am attracted to the same sex"?

Cole said whenever I’m ready, and I am.

I force myself to act normal and eat dinner but the nauseous feeling in my stomach is threatening to bring it all back up. I can’t even hold my spoon properly in my shaky hands.

“Nathan, sweetie?” My mom interjects my ‘planning’ and I look up from my plate. “Is everything alright?”

I open my mouth and close it again. Should I? Or should I not? I feel like . . . I can tell them. Or maybe not. Maybe I should talk about politics or some sort. That’s better, right? Argh, I know nothing about politics!

Or maybe I’ll list down the scientific names of plants that I memorised. Hm, that’s a long list though.

“I, um. . .” I start trying to get a hold of my thoughts while I form a sentence in my brain.

Then, Dad puts his utensils down and clasps his hands together. “Yes, Nathan?” he says in a serious tone. Dad’s a very serious man, and I rarely see him smile or laugh nowadays. He just stares unblinkingly at me very intensely - he scares me sometimes.

My stomach is churning and I feel like puking. But I keep myself together long enough to say, “I’m gay.”

I hear a spoon drop on a plate. The clatter of it makes my head spin. I can’t tell if that was mine or Mom’s because I’m looking down. I’m not sure if I did the right thing. My heart is pounding so loud I can barely hear myself thinking. Then, I finally look at everyone at the table. I see Eva sneaking Kirk a few carrot cubes, oblivious to what’s happening. I see the surprised look on Mom’s face, her eyebrows raised so high it disappears into her hairline. And lastly, Dad. He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh through pursed lips.

Crap.

Suddenly, it becomes too much for me. My heartbeat resonates loudly in my head until it’s the only thing I can hear. Everything feels fuzzy. I hear a few muffled shouts, some barking and I can vaguely feel myself moving. Then, I suddenly find myself outside in the evening rain. Running. 

I can only form one thought in this blurry process: I should have talked about plants.

*

Rain hits me with unrelenting power. I stop under a shelter, catching my breath. I look miserably at my muddy shoes and drenched clothes. I have no idea where I’m at or where I’m going. I’ve never ran away from home before; I’ve never reached that point where I can’t handle things and just take off. Well, not until now.

This . . . is a new low.

The sound of rain is supposed to be soothing. But the roaring torrent makes everything worse. It’s not even loud enough to drown my thoughts; it just amplifies them.

I should go back. But the image of my parents makes my stomach twist again. I don’t think I can go back - I don’t even think I’m even allowed to. Maybe they’re going to lock every door and leave me in the rain. Maybe they’re going to throw me out. Maybe-

Then I start running again.

*

I don’t know where I’m going, I’m just letting my legs lead me to wherever. They bring me to streets I vaguely know, past buildings I vaguely recognise, stop under shelters I’ve probably been under before. I’m not even fully aware of what’s happening around me. I don’t care if anyone sees a teenage boy running in the rain. I don’t care if I catch a cold.

I just keep running.

I don’t know where I’m getting the energy to run this much. Maybe my legs are feeding off my anxiety and panic. Then, I tune out my thoughts and let my rapid heartbeat echo instead.

*

After probably an hour of running (time feels oddly altered now), my legs bring me up a familiar building, up the elevator and down the hallway. I barely make it to the door, though - I practically slam myself against it, wheezing. I frantically knock on it while I catch my breath. My whole head is throbbing so hard I think it might explode soon. The air feels thin and my heart is struggling to catch up. I double over, resting my hands on my knees.

What am I even doing?

I shouldn’t even have said anything. I should’ve just kept that to myself (and Cole and Mae) and continued eating dinner. Now I messed everything up, and it’s all my fault.

While I begin to see a few brief stars, the door swings open.

“Nathan?”

And then my vision goes black.

_______________________
🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️

I like how I'm writing 5 books at the same time and only 1 of them (this book) has a solid plot outline like the rest are just a mishmash of random scenes that I've never bothered to finish 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

Anyways Nathan comes out to the folks, well . . . let's see what happens next :")

Stay hydrated yalls take care of yourselves ❤️✨