(CAUTION: there's sighting of bitchface Loraine. BEWARE.
Chapter may influence violent behavior XD.)

[Youth by Daughter]

FOURTEEN: when you find a new home.

I wasn't one for PDA especially in front of my family. And kissing Paul in front of my homophobic mother, or basically kissing Paul, was like having sex on a bench.

In a park.

Full of kids.

Stumbling away, I pushed myself off of Paul before sinking into my gaming chair as if I were paralyzed. I couldn't believe that I could let her catch me like that and I couldn't believe I'd been stupid enough to bring him here.

I knew how against it she was yet I led Paul into the house and nearly kissed him as well.

And she was praying whilst sneaking in dirty looks directed at the beautiful boy who was trying to recover from the shock. He hadn't noticed her stare as he stood and the way she was mentally attacking him made me want to pull him into my arms and never let her spit a filthy word at him.

"M-mom..." No. No. No.

Why couldn't it have been dad? Or even Jade?

But no, the woman that gave birth to me was glaring daggers at the curly haired angel who shut his eyes tightly and opened them a second later as if he were wishing this all away.

I didn't blame him.

The problem was, it was real and my mother didn't look happy as he stood, giving her a sheepish smile and reaching his hand out for a shake, "h-hey, Mrs. Douglas. I have to apologize for my actions, I-"

"Get the hell out of my house."

My mother must've noticed the hickey that I'd given Paul on the conjunction from his neck to his shoulder because she was shaking with fury. Her hands were trembling at her sides as I noticed the tenseness in her shoulders and the way her porcelain fingers were curling into fists.

"I-I'm, I'm so sorry-"

But she was raging, she was staring at him with hatred as if she knew him. As if she had reason to hate the angel sat in front of her, she'd cut him off, venom in her syllables, "you're the reason he's like this."

I felt the need to intervene, I always made things worse for myself, "he's not."

"He's not? You were normal before he came into your life!"

Gulping, I tried not to crack under pressure, sitting up in my seat, "I fell in love with Calum, mom."

She didn't expect that, "what?" She'd spat, eyes meeting mine before they flickered back to Paul as if she didn't know what to say.

"Mom-"

"You little whore." That was the first time I'd heard my mother curse me.

She'd pointed through the door, eyes still staring at Paul straight on as if she didn't want to look at me, "Get out." Maybe she didn't know how to digest the information, maybe she'd been stuck on the fact that I was kissing some boy in her house. The fact that I was a boy as well being the main bases of her anger.

And Paul, having respect for her and having a thing against conflict could only apologize more. His gaze was on the floor, her hard stare probably becoming too much, "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Douglas, I'll go- um... I'll call you, Jules."

But no, this was wrong and I wasn't just going to stand there and watch my mother shame Paul for anything. He'd probably already had enough shaming in his life but not from his boyfr- friend's mom.

Yeah friend.

"You can't just kick him out, we weren't doing anything wrong," that kicked me into overdrive, pushing myself off the chair before standing beside Paul in front of my mother, clasping his wrist in attempt to stand my ground, "I'm eighteen, I should be allowed to kiss-"

"If you say kiss a boy, so help me God... You are seventeen, what I say goes until you are out of this house." She was trying to stay calm, you could tell from the way she was breathing. In and out as her lips moved, counting to ten before she spoke again, "You are not gay nor are you any other sexuality. You will not dress nor will you act a way that contradicts the word of God for as long as you are my son."

Rolling my eyes at that, I tightened my grip on Paul, gritting my teeth, "I can make my own decisions. It's my life, not yours and I should be allowed to kiss whoever I want, girl or boy."

And I felt Paul shake my hand off, worry encasing me and my throat tightening at the thought of him leaving. My panic was cut short when he briefly rubbed his wrist before lacing our fingers together.

My heart was pounding so loud, I was afraid he'd hear it.

"Not while you're in my house, I will not allow such a sin."

"Well, you birthed this sin. I'm sorry if your parenting methods are 'ungodly', and God forbid anyone in this house have an opinion that differs from the way you see it. But guess what? Dad doesn't have a problem, Jade doesn't have a problem, and I'm trying to right my wrongs with the man upstairs," (if he even exists), "but you- you are hateful and you are stuck in your ways."

"You know what, leave."

Grabbing a bag off of my door handle, she yanked open my closet, grabbing some clothes and throwing them at me.

She ripped open my dressers, pulling folded clothes out and flinging them all at me. Her eyes were wild as the hatred in them intensified and her wedding ring had fallen from her finger, hitting the group with a noiseless impact.

"What?" My mother and I had argued over things that she saw as disgraceful such as Jade wearing a boys' shirt or face cleansers that I'd bought for breakouts. (Because apparently, it was feminine to want to look a certain way.)

But she'd never went this far as to disown me and tell me to find a new place to live. I never thought that she would be that angry.

"Leave and don't come back. You are a sorry excuse for a man and I will not tolerate any more of this under my roof, I can't have you corrupting your sister."

She was in my face, her heels causing her to match my height of 5'10. I watched her hands as they came to push me away by my chest. I felt the shove as it almost knocked me off my feet, my body stumbling into Paul's and my head hitting his nose.

I caught a brief glance of his face, bottom lip and nose bleeding badly as he tried to wipe his face with the back of his hand. His lip had a horizontal cut down the front from my biting and there was blood coming from it as he wiped. Looking back, it wasn't that much blood really but when the person you care about is hurt... All you see is the worst. Going to reach for him, he'd softly stepped back, trying to stop it with his slightly-tan hands.

She'd shoved me. She made him bleed and fuck, I wasn't sure which I was angrier about. Ripping a shirt from her hand, I gave it to Paul, not really caring which shirt it was. I don't know when he ranked high enough for me to snatch something from my mother but it happened and I found myself pressing it to his face lightly, hands shaking so much he was forced to pry it gently from my hands.

He pressed the cloth to his nose, trying to assure that he was fine and in the back, I heard my father yelling.

"Loraine, that's enough!"

He wasn't in the room yet, he didn't see the damage and how utterly fucked it was. My lips were trembling with the rage I was holding back, the boy beside me with his dark brown eyes staring into mine, strength held in them. My father wasn't in my line of sight.

But he was walking in as she screamed back, eyes catching onto the mess on the ground. He noticed her ring on the floor and shut his eyes, breathing deeply, "No. I want him gone, Jason."

Speaking through gritted teeth, he shook his head, "He is not leaving this house."

"Either he leaves or I leave."

"Are you serious?"

Her gaze was unwavering, anger intensifying on his features. They both looked so much older then, so human and I fucking hated it. I hated how much I was realizing that my parents were people, real people and my mother held real hatred for who I was.

I mumbled out a quick, "I'll find somewhere to go," as he looked over at me, stopping before he'd responded when he'd seen the blood covered shirt. But my focus was on the bleeding boy that was clutching my hand as if he were still giving me support. He was still there when I expected anyone else to leave and let me deal with my problems myself. He was still there holding me together before I'd fall apart and I needed someone like that.

"No. You don't have to go anywhere."

But I do. "I know. But I can't cause anymore problems."

"Julian—"

Paul gave my hand a light squeeze. Leaning over and whispering, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear, "You can stay at mine if you want, the guys won't mind."

But I was hesitant, I was almost sure that I could just stay at Andy's and that wouldn't be any trouble. This thing with Paul was supposed to be without feelings and staying with him wouldn't make that any easier, "Really?"

"C'mon, you can even have my bed."

"Disgraceful, disrespectful, shameful children. After all I've done for you, all I've sacrificed, this is what I get in return? This ignorant child who believes he's a girl and my husband who supports this blasphemy."

"Damn right, I support it. I support him, the son that we've raised, Loraine. And no, you don't have to agree with his sexuality. You don't have to support it, you just have to accept it because regardless of how much you don't want to be, you are still his mother; he's still your kid."

"He is not my child."

I know that it's not accepted by your church, I don't need you telling me every two seconds what you do and don't approve of.

She shot me a glare that could take down an army of military men, "you are unwelcome in my house, you are unwelcome in the church. You are unwell, and until you are ready to recommit your life to Christ, you will get your things and you will leave."

"Fine," I sighed, grabbing my shoes and shoving Paul's art supplies into his now free hands, the shirt wrapped in another shirt and his nose not bleeding as much. I saw him grab the bottle of water he was drinking before and pour some on it, cleaning up his face completely except for the redness, "and yes, mother, I'm okay. The bruises and the fucking cast are just temporary, no I'm not in pain. Thanks for asking, it's nice to know you care."

Paul sighed, trying to stop me before I'd said something out of line, "Jules..."

"Don't you dare turn this around on me."

"I'm still me!" And I was crying, even through holding back tears, I couldn't stop the overflow. "I haven't changed!" And my voice was cracking, my chest physically hurt. All the pain had hit me at once and I didn't know what to do.

"Julian..." and I didn't know who's voice that was. My throat was dry and I couldn't fucking breathe.

I was getting louder, attempting to hold back had done nothing and she was screaming accusations that made my head hurt. Everything hurt and I was tired, "I hate this, I hate that I can't even look at you without feeling like my own mother is disgusted with me and I'm done, okay? I'm done with you and I'm done with this complete bullshit that you keep spewing-"

Her fight was disintegrating and she was more stubborn than I was, "You watch your mouth-"

"I would if I still had respect for you."

Was it sad that I had as little respect for her as I had respect for myself?

And I wanted to say I hated her but I couldn't because it wasn't true.

I didn't hate her.

"C'mon, let's go."

I was fueled by anger, my body on autopilot until I'd made it outside. Her words hadnt registered until we'd successfully exited the house, the amount of curses I'd thrown at that woman being a minimum, Paul had placed his hands on my shoulders. The affect of being kicked out hit hard and I'd finally taken it all in as he pulled me into a hug.

And even though my mind was telling me that I had a right to react that way, my knees were weak and I was ready to crawl back and beg for forgiveness. I was a step away from hopping off that metaphorical cliff that pushed me back into the closet, convincing myself that it was all a phase and plead God and my mother to have mercy.

Paul was the anchor that stood me to my ground.

"It's okay, you're okay."

He was holding me loosely as if he were afraid I'd pull away. But that was too loose so snaking my arms around his body, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled his a little tighter.

I could basically hear the smile that spread across his face but I had no time to appreciate how cute it was because I was shaking as I heard the door to the house slam shut, "Paul, I'm sorry-"

And he pulled me away, holding my shoulders and shaking his head sternly, "You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?"

His lips were mouthing words that he wanted to say but he held back as I spoke, "I shouldn't have brought you into that house knowing how bad it was and I-I shouldn't have let her yell at you."

I shouldn't have brought you into any of this. I shouldn't have came out. I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have.

"Listen to me, Jules," and his hands cupped the sides of my neck. I didn't care about the fact that he smelled like blood, that wasn't why I was trying to move away, I didn't want him to give me false hope, "you did nothing wrong."

But in my mind I did everything wrong. I came out too early, I fucking told my best friend all wrong, I disrespected my mother... There were a lot of things I did wrong and letting him hold me and tell me it was all alright was one of the worst.

I heard feet pounding down the steps, Paul releasing me quickly as a body encased my frame, "J, I'm so sorry-"

"I know, Dad..." I pushed him away, backing up and staring down at the ground, not wanting to see the hurt engraved on his face, "That's your wife, you should do anything to make her happy, I understand."

"Julian," he called out as I started towards Paul's car. My dad didn't need to see me crying, I couldn't be any weaker than I'd shown him. Don't cry, don't cry... "I-"

But the tears were already coming and I didn't want him to see me breaking. I struggled with myself, trying not to turn back around and show him how hurt I was... How affected I was. My hands were shaking as I pulled open the passenger door, "I'll call you later, Dad."

"I love you."

It was starting to sound like more of an apology instead of a genuine statement. I just mumbled out an "I know," before shutting the door, my head falling in my hands.

And through the crack of the window, I heard Paul's cheap attempt at making my father feel better followed by a bitter chuckle, "It was nice meeting you, sir."

"Thats a load of crap and I really wish we'd met under better circumstances," he sighed, "Listen, just take care of him, okay? Don't let him do anything stupid."

And I just know that Paul was shyly staring at his feet even though his speech was strong, "Of course."

I didn't know what would happen but there was one thing I was sure of: I wouldn't take his bed. He was too good of a person to me that day for me to make him sleep on the futon.

A/N:
N/A
Updated: Saturday, July 11.