Bright Things Come to Confusion

A Killian Kendall Expanded Universe Short Story

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

email

Blurb:

Before he ever met Killian Kendall in Bleeding Hearts, Seth Connelly was a smart, guarded teen trying to make sense of a world that rarely made sense to him. In Bright Things Come to Confusion, Seth shares how he came to terms with his identity—from the painful clarity of coming out to the bittersweet sting of a first crush. At its heart is a search for belonging, truth, and the father who vanished from his life. As Seth unearths long-buried secrets, he begins to see family—and himself—more clearly. Honest, sharp-witted, and deeply human, this coming-of-age story shines new light on a beloved character.

Seth narrates this tale from the expanded Killian Kendall universe. This story takes place before Bleeding Hearts.

Chapter 1

A bloodcurdling scream ripped through my dreams, snapping me awake in an instant.

I sat bolt upright in my bed, heart hammering in my chest. Had it been real or just a nightmare? I heard angry voices coming from elsewhere in the house and my heart rate slowed as I realized it was just my parents fighting again. Nothing new there. I wondered what it was about this time.

Just then, I heard a crash and decided this fight seemed worse than usual. I felt my stomach clench up. I slipped from my bed and crept towards the door.

“Get out!” I heard my mother scream.

As far as I knew, she’d never kicked Dad out before. I grabbed the door handle and eased my door open. I almost leapt from my skin when I saw my little brother Kane standing in the hallway, just a few feet away.

He turned when I opened the door and stood staring at me like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes huge and round. It was obvious he’d been there for a while and had probably heard a lot more than I had.

Kane turned back toward the voices and eased up to the corner of the hallway, then suddenly stepped into the living room.

“Mommy?” he gasped.

The look on his face told me that whatever he was seeing out there wasn’t a pretty sight.

Dad stepped into view, and I quickly melted back into my room.

In the sudden silence that followed, Dad’s voice carried easily to where I stood. “Go back to bed, sweetie. Mommy and I are having a disagreement. It’ll be okay.”

He didn’t sound at all convincing to me, but Kane turned reluctantly and trudged back down the hall toward his room.

“You too, Seth.” Dad added, making me jump.

With a sigh, I shut the door and returned to my bed. I didn’t go to sleep, though. I lay there awake, straining to hear what was going on in the living room, but they kept their voices down after that. Somehow, that scared me even more. I laid awake for what felt like hours.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know what had happened.

Once more, I slipped from my bed and eased open my door. The house was dark and eerily quiet. I thought I heard a soft snuffling, almost like someone crying, coming from the direction of the living room. A creepy blue light emanated from the doorway and a horror movie I’d watched — without permission — the week before crept into my mind. I almost lost my nerve about leaving the relative safety of my room, but I gathered up all the courage I had and dashed quickly across the hall, letting myself into Kane’s room as silently as possible.

At first, I couldn’t find him in the pile of stuffed animals on the bed. I hadn’t even known he owned that many. He must have unloaded his entire toy box onto the bed. Was he trying to hide under there? I started tossing them aside, looking for my little brother. He had enough toy animals to populate a small zoo. Finally, I found him curled into a ball in the center of the bed.

I shook him gently awake and he came up with a ragged gasp.

“Shh,” I hissed quickly. “It’s just me.”

Kane blinked at me with his huge green eyes, looking more like a startled owl than a nine-year-old boy. His reddish-blonde hair even stuck up like the ear tufts of a great-horned owl.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Late. I need to talk to you.”

“About what? Are Mommy and Daddy still fighting?”

“No, but that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

“Now?”

“Yes now. What were they fighting about?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his little face screwed up in confusion. “Mom sounded really angry, like she hated Dad. Do you think she hates him?”

“I don’t know, Kane. Just tell me what they were saying.”

“I couldn’t even understand most of it. Mom’s voice was all funny. She was yelling at Daddy to get out and then he said something about us, and then...” He stopped suddenly as if he’d just remembered something. “Hey Seth, what’s a faggot?”

I froze.

“Seth?” he asked.

“What did you say?”

“What’s a faggot?”

“Why?”

“Because, I heard Mom say it when she was fighting with Daddy.”

“Are you sure that’s what she said?”

“Yeah, what does it mean?”

I turned without answering and was at the door in a flash. I let myself out of Kane’s room and tiptoed down the hall as stealthily as I could manage. I peeked around the corner into the living room. Mom was sitting in front of Dad's old laptop, crying. The images on the screen confirmed my worst fear.

I half stumbled back to my room, my heart gripped in the tight confines of grief and terror. I knew now why Mom and Dad had been fighting.

They’d been fighting over me.

They’d discovered my secret. What would happen now? Would they come screaming into my room? Throw me out? Hit me? The waiting was almost worse than what I felt was the inevitable confrontation.

It had all started a few months before. I was playing at a friend’s house when his mom had run to the store, leaving us alone. She wasn’t even out of the driveway yet when he’d asked if I wanted to see something cool. He’d opened her laptop, and in just a few minutes, we were staring at pictures of naked women.

At twelve, I’d barely started thinking about sex, but my friend was obviously a little more advanced than me. It didn’t take him long to start rubbing at his crotch, which was home to a bulge he didn’t bother to hide. I found myself more interested in what was happening between his legs than the images on the screen. In fact, the large breasted women made me a little uncomfortable. I found all these new things more than a little overwhelming, and I was glad when we heard his mother’s car pulling back in and he turned off the computer.

For days after that, I found myself wondering what my friend looked like without his clothes. It didn’t really strike me as all that odd that I was thinking about my male friend naked. After all, it was just curiosity — or so I told myself. There was no way I was gay, a term thrown around quite a bit at school. I knew it meant guys who liked guys, but more than that, I knew it was something very negative and dirty. That wasn’t me...was it?

My sudden obsession with seeing my friend naked soon grew to curiosity about almost every boy in my class. The brief glimpses in gym class weren’t enough. It was weeks before it occurred to me that if the internet held pictures of naked women, maybe it would hold pictures of naked guys as well. The only problem was, Mom and Dad had parental locks on my laptop. Adult sites were blocked. But I was pretty sure there were no such blocks on Dad’s old laptop that he left in his home office in the living room.

I waited impatiently for several days before I was left alone at home to try out my theory. As soon as Mom left with Kane, I ran to Dad’s computer and typed a few keywords into the search engine.

Seconds later, I had all the naked guys I could wish for. They were a lot older than me, but I didn’t care. I was in heaven. Over the next few months, I was online every chance I got, searching for pictures and videos of naked guys. I started saving my favorites on a thumb drive that I kept carefully hidden in my room.

But somehow, Mom and Dad had found the files. I must have forgotten it when I was almost caught the day before.

One mistake and it was all over. They knew about me. And they'd fought about it. Over me.

Over the last few months, I’d come to the uneasy conclusion that I might be gay, but it was still something I wasn’t ready to face. I wondered what they had thought when they found the files. They must have been so disappointed. I’d never heard Mom sound so upset. I wondered what they would do. I waited and waited, shivering alone in the middle of my bed, but no one ever came.

At some point, I began to cry. I must have eventually cried myself to sleep.

The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off. It was a school day. My world hadn’t come to an end, but maybe they were waiting for the morning. I dragged myself out of bed and went through my morning routine out of habit, all the while wondering when the other shoe would drop.

I entered the kitchen hesitantly. Kane sat at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal while warily watching our mother. He hadn’t finished dressing yet. He had his pants on, but no shirt, socks or shoes. Usually, he wouldn’t be allowed to eat until he was ready for school, which just confirmed to me that something was very wrong.

Mom stood by the sink, staring blankly out the window, dark circles under her eyes, her shoulders slumped.

“Get a bowl of cereal and get ready for the bus,” she said listlessly without turning. She can’t even stand to look at me, I thought darkly.

“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled. The very thought of food made my stomach heave. I didn’t get a response.

For several minutes, the only sound in the room was Kane’s spoon clinking against the bowl and the slight slurp as he ate.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked, hating the tremble that betrayed my emotion. Kane’s spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.

“Gone,” Mom said harshly.

I gulped. “When will he be back?” I asked in a small voice.

“He’s not coming back,” she snapped in a voice that clearly said that was the end of the subject.

Kane dropped his spoon with a clatter, splashing milk and cereal all over the table. Mom spun around and glared at the mess.

“Clean it up,” she barked, then pushed roughly past me. “Don’t miss the bus,” she yelled back at us before slamming her bedroom door.

Kane looked at me with round eyes. “Daddy’s gone?” he asked, his lower lip beginning to tremble.

I grabbed some paper towels and started mopping up the milk and Lucky Charms. I didn’t know what to say to Kane. What could I say? That Dad had left because he found out his oldest son was a faggot and he couldn’t stand it? That Mom was so devastated she couldn’t even look at me? That it was all my fault that our family had been ripped apart?

Tears rolled down my cheeks as I cleaned. Kane stared in horrified silence. I didn’t want to go to school. I didn’t want to face all my friends and pretend nothing was wrong. I wanted to curl up in my bed and cry. Or better yet, I wanted it to all go away. I just wanted all of this to be a terrible nightmare. But Mom had said not to miss the school bus. She probably didn’t want me in the house.

A sudden thought occurred to me as I stared down at the sodden mess of paper towels and colored marshmallow shapes. If I had messed things up, maybe I could fix them as well.

“Kane,” I said and he looked up at me with tear-filled eyes. “Finish cleaning this up, then get ready for school, okay?”

He stared at me uncomprehendingly.

“Kane?” I said, a little more sharply than I’d intended.

He flinched a little, but focused on me this time. I repeated my instructions and he nodded.

I walked to my parent’s bedroom door and took a deep breath before knocking hesitantly. There was a muffled response from within, which I took as an invitation to come in. Once inside, I suddenly didn’t know what to say. Mom was lying on the bed, not bothering to hide the fact that she was crying. She still wouldn’t look at me.

“M-Mom?” I began shakily. “I...I’m sorry.” I stopped and choked down a sob. After a second, I tried to continue. “I...I know you’re really upset right now, but I promise to be really good from now on, okay? I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Okay?” There was no response except for silent shuddering. “Okay, Mom? And maybe if I’m good, Dad will come back.”

That, at least, seemed to get a reaction.

She sat up and looked at me for the first time that morning, her bloodshot eyes narrowed. I took an involuntary step back. “Your father isn’t coming back. Ever. He’s gone for good.” She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. “But I will need you to be good. Both you and Kane. It’s just us from now on, and that means we’re all going to have to pick up the slack. And what I want you to do right now is get ready for school. So please go help Kane and make sure you don’t miss the bus.”

I nodded mutely and turned to go.

“And Seth?” she called. I stopped, afraid to turn back around and look into her eyes again. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Somehow, I managed to get Kane ready. I don’t even remember any of it. All I could think was that I really had destroyed our family and now Mom hated me because of it. I could see it in her eyes. She’d tried to hide it, but I’d seen it.

When I got home from school later that day, Mom was barricaded in her room and didn’t even come out to ask me how my day had been. That had always been something Dad asked as soon as he got home from work every day, no matter how busy he was.

A sharp jab of grief blindsided me as I realized I might never hear him ask me that again. All at once, it hit me that there was something different about the house. Not just the absence of Dad’s presence, but something more. It only took me a few seconds to realize what it was. I quickly went from room to room, but it was the same everywhere. Everything having to do with Dad was missing — every photo, every object that was his, every memento of our family trips — as if he’d never existed. For a panicked second, I thought that maybe I had somehow imagined him.

Kane arrived home at that moment and just the sight of him quickly brought me back to earth.

Since Mom still hadn’t made an appearance, I fixed Kane a snack of some fruit and milk.

A couple of hours later, I was wondering what to do about dinner when she finally emerged from her room. One look at her and I almost wished she hadn’t. Her face was splotchy, and her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. It was obvious that she’s been crying again.

Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore. I made her feel that bad, I thought miserably to myself. This is all my fault.

Without even asking, she picked up the phone and ordered a pizza to be delivered, then left me some money to pay for it before turning around and going back into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her. Kane watched all this with wide, frightened eyes.

“Is Mommy going to be okay?” he asked in a small voice. He looked like he could burst into tears at any second.

You have to be strong, I told myself firmly, even though I felt like I could cry, too.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I lied. I wasn’t sure at all. It seemed like our entire world was crashing down around us. “She’s just sad about Dad leaving...” My voice caught in my throat and I had to stop. I swallowed a few times, then continued, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

He gave me a tremulous smile, and I quickly turned away to hide the tears that were threatening to spill over, rummaging in the refrigerator for sodas as an excuse.

We watched TV until the pizza arrived. I had no idea how much to tip the delivery guy, so I gave him two twenty-dollar bills for one large pizza.

“Keep the change,” I said, feeling ridiculous but not knowing what else to say. It must have been okay, because the pizza guy just nodded and said thanks.

After we ate, I helped Kane with his homework and then did mine while he watched cartoons. When his bedtime arrived, he went to bed and let me tuck him in without arguing — something I don’t think he’d ever done before in his life. I think we both knew that the rules were different now.

Once that was done, I realized I needed clean clothes for the next day. This was the day Mom usually did laundry so most of my school clothes were dirty. I figured that was up to me as well. I turned on the light in the laundry room and stared at the messy pile of clothes on the floor. It looked like someone had dumped out the laundry basket and then kicked stuff everywhere.

With a sigh, I started the washer and threw in clothes at random, not even knowing enough to sort the colors. I just about had a full load when I recognized one of Dad’s favorite shirts. It was the first thing I’d seen that was his. I stopped and just stared at it for a minute before slowly reaching out and picking it up. I brought it to my face and inhaled.

It still smelled like his cologne.

Before I knew what was happening, I was on the floor curled into the fetal position, weeping into the shirt. Everything I’d been holding back for Kane’s sake, all the guilt and fear and grief, just came pouring out without inhibition.

I don’t know how long I cried, but I suddenly noticed Kane in the doorway. I cut off my sobs with a hiccup and sat up.

“You miss Daddy too?” he asked with a tear-filled voice.

I simply nodded and in a flash, he was in my arms crying on my shoulder. I held him and cried with him, the two of us sitting on the laundry room floor, grieving together in a pile of dirty clothes. We formed a bond that night that would get us through the next few years.

The following weeks were a living hell. Mom barely spoke to us except to yell and always seemed to be on the verge of losing her temper. Kane and I tiptoed around trying to guess what we would do to set her off next and avoid doing it at all costs. We weren’t allowed to talk about Dad. All she would tell us was that they were getting a divorce. Kane and I hadn’t talked any more about their big fight since that first night. It seemed we’d both silently agreed to avoid the topic. I don’t know about Kane, but most nights I cried myself to sleep in a fit of self-recrimination and missing Dad.

For my part, I’d vowed to myself to do exactly what I’d promised Mom. I didn’t touch the computer except to do homework and every time I caught myself thinking about a boy, I’d mentally slap myself. I was determined to be the perfect son. I might have lost Dad, but I wasn’t about to lose Mom as well.

Despite my best efforts, it became obvious that I’d already lost her, at least emotionally. She was a completely different person. She’d never been the warmest person — Dad had always been the affectionate parent — but now she was positively frigid. She seemed to grow more distant with every day. The further she withdrew emotionally, the harder I tried to please her.

The one positive was that Kane and I continued to grow closer than ever. Mom had said that we would all have to pick up the slack, but it seemed I was doing most of the picking up. I went from a carefree kid to the man of the house in just a matter of weeks. I kept doing the laundry and even started doing some of the lighter housework. Most mornings, I was the one who fixed Kane’s breakfast and helped him get ready for school. I found myself becoming very protective of my younger brother.

The only other thing to benefit from this situation was my schoolwork. My grades up till then would best be described as average, but I transformed myself into the perfect student. In the process, I discovered a certain satisfaction in my work, in getting an “A” on my papers and receiving the recognition from my teachers brought on by my sudden interest in academics.

In some ways, the attention from my teachers helped offset the loss of my father and my mother’s continuing withdrawal. It wasn’t what I really wanted, but it was enough to keep me going.

I think some of my teachers recognized the deeper pain that I struggled so hard to hide at school, and made a special effort to be supportive and encouraging. When things failed to improve at home, I simply threw myself even deeper into school activities, becoming involved with extracurricular clubs like after-school drama.

The next few years blurred into a routine. Mom mellowed somewhat — we didn’t have to walk on eggshells around the house anymore — but she was as distant as ever. She took almost no interest in our lives beyond making sure we didn’t interfere too much in hers.

Kane followed my lead by doing well in school, but his true escape became skateboarding. I kept an eye on him, knew all his friends, and generally made sure he stayed out of trouble.

For my part, I felt I lived up to my end of the bargain. I was now a straight-A student, at or near the top of my class. I had also become the class clown, always cracking jokes. The goofy persona I adopted kept people at arm’s length, and gave me a sort of confidence.

I was friendly with everyone, but had few close friends and no one that I really allowed inside. If no one got too close, no one could hurt me or find out my secrets. It seemed easier that way. No chances of me finding myself attracted to one of my male friends. If I was lonely much of the time, well, that was the price that had to be paid. My plan worked as well as I could have hoped...until I was fifteen.

If Kane’s escape was skateboarding, then mine was acting. I loved theater. I loved getting lost in a part, being able to become someone else for however brief a period, forgetting who and what I was. It was my sophomore year and we were putting on a production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” I was Lysander, which was quite an honor considering I was still an underclassman. The other cast members were probably the closest thing I had to friends, but I rarely spent time with them outside of school. There were four of us who received the starring roles in almost every production, and we’d formed a tight knit bond. There was Lia Mercado playing Helena, Amira Carter as Hermia, and Cole McBride as Demetrius.

Lia and Amira were as different as night and day. Lia was a junior and looked as if she’d be more at home on the field, cheering for the team, pom-poms in hand. She had long, shiny black hair that fell straight to her waist, and expressive dark eyes. She was barely five feet tall, but she made up for her small stature in personality. She was also one of the best actresses in our school. She wasn’t vain at all, despite her almost perfect good looks, and she was always willing to take any role and totally become that character.

The only thing Lia and Amira has in common was their love of theater. Where Lia was small and bubbly, Amira was tall and intense. She had flawless dark skin, eyes that flashed when she was angry or excited, and short hair that was almost shaved.

If Lia and Amira hadn’t shared a passion for acting, they probably would have never spoken, but then, that was true of all of us. I would certainly have never allowed myself to get as close to any of them if it wasn't for the camaraderie of long hours spent in rehearsals and the giddy relief of cast parties.

Finally, there was Cole. Like Amira, he was a senior. This would be his last play before he graduated. When I’d first started drama as a freshman, Cole had been a little threatened by me. Before I’d come along, he’d been unchallenged as the best male actor in the group. It hadn’t taken anyone very long to realize that I was just as good as Cole. We settled into a kind of adversarial rivalry for roles that gradually eased into a competition of a friendlier sort, and eventually into something akin to friendship. Or as close as I came to friendship. We had a mutual respect for each other’s acting ability. What Cole didn’t know, what no one knew, what I barely dared admit to myself, is that I admired Cole for more than just his acting ability.

Cole was slightly shorter than me and thin. He was on the swim team in addition to theater and he had the classic swimmer’s build, streamlined and powerful, but not showy. I’d always thought his name would have been more appropriately spelled “coal”. His hair was so black it sometimes seemed to reflect blue, and his eyes were just as dark. His creamy complexion seemed even paler against the stark contrast. I thought he was one of the most beautiful boys I had ever seen, and he had a natural grace to his movement that complimented his looks. Just being in his presence never failed to make me feel awkward and gangly.

Over the last year, I had grown to almost six feet tall and I had yet to adjust to my sudden height. My poker-straight, reddish-blond hair had a mind of its own, so I had adopted a carefully mussed look that was harder to achieve than one might think. Next to Cole, I felt like a court jester before a prince. I tried very hard to hide my awkwardness around him, covering it with one-liners and pratfalls, and most of the time, I was successful.

Every now and then, though, I would catch him looking at me with a strange expression, and, for a second, I thought he knew how I felt. But then he’d look away, and I’d convince myself that it had just been my imagination.

Our first performance was only a few weeks away, and Mr. Roedel, the drama director, was starting to get hyper. Of course, he always got hyper as opening night approached. The closer it got, the more manic he’d become until he’d practically be in heart failure by the time the curtains opened.

This time, though, even I was a little nervous. Rehearsals had been rough. A lot of the lines were really long and, with the unfamiliar Shakespearean English, some people were having a lot of trouble memorizing them. The guy who was playing Theseus could barely get two words out without getting stuck, and Hippolyta wasn’t much better.

I wasn’t worried about myself. I’d been blessed with a very good memory, and I’d memorized all my lines already. I was concerned about everyone else though — for Cole’s sake as much as anything. Lia and Amira pretty much had their lines down, as well, although there were still a few places they stumbled over. Of the four of us, Cole was having the most difficulty, which was odd since he usually had his lines memorized before I did. I passed it off as nerves about his final performance. I knew he wanted it to go well.

Most of our in-school rehearsal time was spent on scenes one, four, and five since those were the ones Theseus and Hippolyta were in. Since Hermia, Lysander, Demetrius, and Helena were in these scenes as well, that left the fairy cast pretty much on their own most of the time.

When Mr. Roedel finally realized this, it was obvious he didn’t know quite what to do. Theseus and Hippolyta still needed a lot of work, but we needed to rehearse the Woods scenes as well. His solution was to stay even later after school. I didn’t have a problem with this, as anything that kept me out of the house even longer was fine by me.

After a week of this arrangement, however, we still weren’t spending much time on scenes two and three. Cole grew more and more nervous, since most of his biggest scenes were in the neglected parts.

Finally, Lia came up with a solution.

“Why don’t we get together at my house and work on these scenes?” she suggested after a particularly discouraging rehearsal.

Cole brightened up immediately. “That’s a great idea!” he said happily. “When?”

“Whenever. What works for you guys?” Amira and Cole quickly said that they were available anytime. Lia turned an expectant gaze at me. I had never been to Lia’s house before and I’d never been anywhere outside of school with Cole. I realized everyone was waiting for my response.

“Whenever is fine for me too,” I mumbled.

After checking with Alyson, Jayden, and Elliott — who played Titania, Oberon, and Puck respectively — we settled on Friday evening. Lia said she’d order pizza.

“It’ll be like a little party!” she enthused with a giggle. She threw her arm around my waist since she couldn’t reach my shoulder and jumped up and down. “I can hardly wait! It’ll be so much fun!”

I smiled tightly. I wasn’t used to socializing outside of school, let alone going to parties.

“We have to work too, Lia,” Cole said, coming to my rescue.

“Oh, I know, but it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun!”

As we went our separate ways, my stomach clenched at the very thought of spending time alone with Cole. Sure, we wouldn’t really be alone, but still...... Somehow, it was okay at school. Being in the intimacy of someone’s home, though, scared me.

Amira usually gave me a ride home after practice since she lived a block away and Mom couldn’t be bothered to pick me up. I was unusually quiet on the ride home, and she couldn’t help but notice.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked.

“What? Huh? Nothing!” I sputtered. I’d been in my own little world of worry.

“You haven’t made a single joke since we left. Something is obviously bothering you. You were fine until Lia suggested rehearsing at her house.”

“It’s not that,” I said quickly. “I’m just worried about the play, you know, and my lines and all...” I faded out lamely.

“You know your lines better than anyone else in the damn play,” she scoffed. “What’s really bugging you?” When I didn’t respond, she tried a different tack. “Look, Seth, you know you can trust me, right? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I looked over at her nervously. What was she getting at? Sure, we were friends, but we’d never been the type that confided in each other. Just school friends. The kind you saw in the hallway and said “hi” to, chatted with at lunch, maybe even did things like give you a ride after school, but that was it...wasn’t it?

“I’m fine,” I insisted.

Amira sighed. “Whatever.”

I could tell I’d disappointed her, but what was I supposed to do? Tell her I was pretty sure I was gay but that I’d destroyed our family by being careless about it before and I wasn’t about to let it happen again? That I was afraid to be alone with Cole because I had a crush on him?

I gasped out loud. I’d never admitted that I had a crush on Cole, not even to myself.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Amira burst out, causing me to jump. “I know you like Cole,” she said quickly, as if she just couldn’t hold the words in anymore.

“What?’ I yelped.

How could she know? I hadn’t even admitted it to myself until a few seconds ago.

“The way you look at him, the way you avoid being too close to him, the way you blush when he speaks directly to you. It’s obvious.”

“Obvious?” I whispered, horrified.

She looked over at me and realized how terrified I was. She quickly pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall and parked.

“It's only obvious if you know what to look for,” she said, soothingly.

“Do you think anyone else knows?” I asked with growing panic.

She shrugged. “I doubt it. I’ve never heard anyone say anything specifically about you. You know how some people just assume that any guy who does theater is gay.”

Gay.

She’d said it out loud. The word seemed to hang in the air.

Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I began to hyperventilate.

“Put your head between your legs,” Amira ordered, pushing my head down. “Take deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Fill your lungs.” I tried to do as she said and, slowly, my breathing returned to normal.

“It’s not the end of the world,” she said softly. “There are a lot of gay guys at school. Nobody cares.”

“You don’t understand,” I said with a slightly hysterical note creeping into my voice.

“Yeah, actually I do.”

“You can’t understand,” I wailed.

“Seth, I’m gay too.”

That stopped my impending panic attack in its tracks. I sat up and stared at her, not believing what I’d thought I heard. “What?”

“I’m gay. I dig girls. I’m a lesbian. A dyke. A rug—”

“I get the picture,” I said quickly.

“So, you see, I do understand.”

“Not really,” I moaned.

The shock of her revelation was wearing off and my panic was returning in full force.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not just that,” I said, trying hard not to hyperventilate again. I started talking, barely realizing I was speaking. “When I was twelve, my parents found out I was gay. I’d left some stuff on the computer. They had a big fight about it, and my dad left. My mom hasn’t been the same since. It’s like she can barely stand to look at me.”

“Oh God, Seth, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“I swore to myself that I would make them proud of me, that I would be straight. I guess at the time I thought it would somehow make things right again, bring my dad back. It’s obvious that isn’t going to happen now, but still...you know? I just want to make them proud of me.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I’d run out of words, and Amira didn’t seem to know what to say.

Finally, she made up her mind. “You know, being gay isn’t something to be ashamed of, it’s just a part of who you are. People who think it’s something evil or bad are the ones that have it wrong. You can’t help who you like, and you can’t make yourself be something you’re not. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but if your dad really left your family just because you’re gay, then he was a jerk and you’re better off without him.”

My head snapped up. “He wasn’t a jerk,” I hissed. “You don’t even know him.”

Amira’s eyes widened. “I don’t have to know him to know it’s a shitty thing to leave your kid when he needs you the most.”

“And I suppose your parents know about you and are fine with it, huh?’ I challenged.

“Actually, yes. I told them last year. They had a little trouble with it at first, but everything is fine now.”

A pang of jealousy shot through me. “Well we can’t all be that lucky,” I said bitterly.

“I’m really sorry, Seth. Maybe I shouldn’t have even brought this up, but I could see it was really bothering you and I thought if someone else knew it would be easier on you.”

“Maybe you were wrong,” I said, turning and looking out the window.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

She started the car and pulled back out into the traffic. We didn’t speak again until she pulled into my driveway.

“I won’t mention any of this again unless you choose to bring it up,” she said quickly, before I could get out. “If you want to talk, you know my number. And you don’t have to worry about me saying anything to anyone. I promise.”

I got out without saying a word, but I shut the door gently instead of slamming it, as I probably would have done a few seconds before.

I avoided Mom and Kane for the rest of the night, shutting myself in my room and not even coming out for dinner. I just told them I wasn’t feeling good. Mom was easy to avoid, but Kane was a little harder. I snapped at him when he stuck his head in my room to ask if I needed anything. I felt bad about it as soon as I saw the hurt in his eyes, but I was too caught up in my own misery to follow him when he withdrew his head and shut the door again.

I was dreading Friday evening more than ever now. What if Amira broke her promise and told everyone? It would have been completely out of character for her, but it was still a fear.

Her words kept echoing through my head. Was Dad a jerk for leaving? I’d been so busy blaming myself that I’d never allowed myself to be angry at him for abandoning us. For the first time ever, I allowed myself to feel a bit of the resentment that I’d buried so deeply.

And what about the other stuff she’d said? She’d made being gay sound like being born left-handed. Just a part of who you are, not something you can help or change. That was also something I’d never let myself consider.

I didn’t sleep much that night. I had too much on my mind. And it was only Tuesday. Would I even survive until Friday?

Next Chapter