Falling Hard

French

"You're not going?" Brandon asked, sitting on my bed beside me. We were working on homework all day, trying to get me to understand how French worked. Brandon was good at everything and I wasn't. He figured maybe his skills would rub off on me. So far, it wasn't working.

"I'm afraid something will happen with dad."

"Something like..?"

"Like he'll find out I'm gay."

He laughed. "That's ridiculous, Angelo. We're being careful. There's no way he's going to find out."

"Maybe you're right. But I don't want to take that chance. Especially when I'm so far from home."

"Maybe I should go and keep something from happening."

"Then it'd be even more obvious."

He laid back and slid his hand under mine. "You can stay at my place all weekend."

I laid beside him and smiled. "Thanks but I'll be okay. I could use the time alone to work on homework."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." I breathed.

He pulled my face toward his and pressed his lips to mine. It was a new thing to kiss him, someone I used to consider a best friend. That wasn't saying he wasn't still important to me. He was more than a best friend and I loved it.

I wasn't sure how long it'd take us to get to a place where we could kiss in public. Hold hands in the hallways at school. Call each other pet names on social media. The only people we were truly hiding from were my parents.

If they found out...

"ANGELO JOSEPH FLORES!"

I thought time would move slower. I thought my mind would freeze and I wouldn't know what to do. But everything went into overdrive and my motions were quick. Everything happened quickly.

Dad charged into the room, his eyes ablaze with a fire I'd never seen before. I'd never thought my dad could be so mad at me.

He pulled Brandon off of me, sending him backwards to the floor. I scrambled back and threw my French book at him.

"Dad, what the hell?"

"You're screwing him? You're screwing him? I thought I raised you better than that!" He yelled at me. His shoulders were tensed and raised and his hands were balled into fists.

"What? Dad, we're not-"

"I know what this is. You're some faggot who has sex with other guys. I won't have that in my house."

At this point, Brandon had gotten to his feet. His shirt was wrinkled but he looked unphased.

"If I've over stepped my boundaries, Mr. Flores, I can-" He started.

Dad raised his hand and I wasn't about to let him hurt Brandon. Not when it wasn't his fault.

I shoved dad back, forcing him into the closed door. It sounded like it cracked but I didn't see any damage. "Don't touch him."

"You're going to defend that faggot over your own father?"

"Screw you."

I wasn't able to get out of the way in time. His hand connected with my face, shocking me to my core. My dad had hit me before but only as a form of punishment. One that, I supposed, was justifiable. But this? This wasn't.

Brandon stepped in and shoved dad hard enough that he fell to the floor.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

"You keep your gay ass away from him."

I stuffed my books into my backpack. Brandon grabbed it from me and slung the strap over his shoulder.

"My ass is gay too dad." I said, stepping over him to grab my keys.

He stood and stared at the two of us. "If you leave, you're not coming back."

"It's clear I'm not welcome here anymore."

Brandon grabbed my hand and pulled me from the room. He must have sensed another outburst from my father.

We raced down the stairs, me following Brandon. I stumbled on the last two steps and narrowly missed my father's grabby hands.

Brandon ran to his car and threw the backpack inside to the passenger seat. "Take your car. Meet me at my place."

I wiped my face with the back of my hand and headed for my car. My shitty, hand-me-down car. It was all I had. That and Brandon.

"You're not my son! You're not my son!" Dad yelled from the porch. He stood there, fuming, as the two of us drove off.