𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

Dinner is interrupted when the doorbell does off.

As I'm nearest to the door, I'm the one who has to get up and go to open it. When I do, I'm surprised to see a dishevelled Alex, still in school uniform with blood splatter decorating his white shirt, standing on my doorstep. I instantly notice the fact that he has a busted lip and the first thing that pops into my mind is that he's been in some sort of fight and got injured as a result of that.

"Oh my God, what happened?" I ask, ushering him into the house and closing the door.

"I got kicked out," he responds. I can't help but perceive the fact that he's oddly calm.

If my parents were to kick me out, I would be freaking out, most likely even hyperventilating. But that's just me. Alex is more composed in general, I guess. I don't need to ask why, though, because he continues anyway.

"My, um, my dad found out that I'm bi and wasn't too happy about it." He says.

I'm too stunned for words. I knew his dad was homophobic but to kick him out, on the whole, that was a different story. And it hurts me, knowing that someone could be so horrible as to kick their own blood out of the house they lived in and onto the streets. I don't understand it, and it breaks my heart that Alex is going through that.

"Did your dad hit you, Tesoro?" I can hear my mum say behind us.

I jump with a start, and we both spin to see that her eyes are wide with alarm. Alex clears his throat nervously and nods, to which my mum lets out a very audible gasp as her expression changes to pure hostility. My eyes widen like hers in shock.

"What a sick man!" She exclaims.

"Do you want to stay here for a few days while your dad calms down?" I ask without a beat, looking at my mother as if to ask for her permission. She gives me a quick nod, and I relax slightly from the tension I didn't know I was holding.

"I—" he starts, "I really wouldn't want to intrude."

"Don't be silly. You are staying here for as long as you need!" My mother declares, "Come here," she says, pulling him into a hug. He freezes for a second, which you would do if someone you hardly know hugged you, but then gradually relaxes. She pulls away from him, keeping her hands on his arms, "Have you got anything with you?"

"I've only got my phone and wallet on me. I wasn't thinking, it was a heated argument and my dad said he never wanted to see me again, so I stormed out without thinking to take anything with me." He turns to look at me, his expression now gradually turning into fear, so I take his hand in mine and hold it tight, "I can't go back to living there. Not with him."

"Has he hit you before? Is it a regular thing?" I ask.

He hesitates, "Yeah. Me and my mom."

My breath catches in my throat. Alex's dad is abusing him. He never said anything; he never even showed any signs. Then I think back to the times where I've noticed bruises on him and him punching lockers, all those time where his frustration was apparent.

Domestic abuse.

The last time I saw him with suspicious injuries was when I went to his house for a tutoring session and ended up leaving when he threatened me. He wasn't in a fight like I initially thought. His dad hit him.

All of this could be why he was crying the first night in London. Maybe it wasn't a dream. It could be because he was scared that his mum was alone. Or he could have possibly dreamt about his dad hurting his mum while he wasn't there. I'm not going to assume that they are the correct answers, but they're possible.

There were so many signs. Bruises, crying, frustration, anger, aggression, acting out, addiction to drugs and tobacco, drinking. These weren't because he's an irresponsible teenage boy; these were because his dad is abusing him, acting as something that helps deal with the emotions that come along with abuse, most likely.

A sense of contentment regarding our 'relationship' washes over me. Alex came to me in his time of need; a very upsetting time of need as well. Not for a place to stay, as he said he didn't want to intrude, but for comfort, which is better than going to someone because you think they'll let you crash at their house. I make him feel safe enough to come to me. Not his friends or other family members. Me.

Although he's not showing any visible signs of distress, I wrap an arm around his waist and rest my head on his shoulder, hoping that I offer a bit of consolation.

"It's going to be OK," I say because I know all of his emotions are trapped inside and he's fighting hard not to let them show. I've been there. It's no help at all.

"Right, so, we need to sort out your lip and then we will go to your house, pack up your things and come back here and you can stay for a long as you have to." My mum states, going into defensive mother mode. She pulls Alex towards the kitchen, stopping at the dining room to say, gesturing to the boy beside her, "You all know Alex. He's going to be staying with us for a little bit. We will explain later."

"Hi!" Isaak squeals, looking at Alex gleefully.

My mum continues to pull Alex into the kitchen as I follow behind.

Wordlessly, she begins to shuffle through the cupboards in search for the first aid kit, calling out an "aha!" upon finding it. She hands me the box, giving me the slightest wink before reentering the dining room to collect our abandoned plates. I roll my eyes at her, knowing this is a way of her trying to get me close to Alex.

I flip open the box and take out a bottle sea salt solution, spritzing it onto a cotton pad and pressing it against Alex's lip, causing him to hiss in pain. I utter out an apology hitherto grabbing some ice from the dispenser and catching it in a small plastic bag. I take the cotton pad from him and replace it with the bag of ice. He thanks me, kissing my hand before placing the ice pack back onto his lip.

When my mum enters the room again, he stands up from where he was previously leaning back on the counter, "Thank you so much for letting me stay. I promise I'll pay you back for food and stuff, I—"

"No! You do not need to give us any money!" My mum exclaims, looking at him with pure empathy.

"Please, I feel guilty as it is."

"I refuse, and that is final." She states. Alex doesn't argue any further.

My heart breaks for him. He's trying not to let it show, but I can see his desperation, knowing what it's like living with my own emotions. I wrap my arms around his midriff, my sympathy getting the better of me. I can feel him bury his cheek into my hair, wrapping his free arm around me.

"Does your mom know about us dating?" He whispers, making sure my mum can't hear, in case I say that she doesn't. Although she does know, I'm still grateful for this. So I nod, and I can feel him smile. "Again, thank you so much. I seriously was not expecting this."

I look up at him, "Why not?"

"I felt like I would be intruding if I asked to stay. I mean, it's not like your family knows me very well. I thought you'd say no if I asked. It's nothing personal to you. It's just insecurities."

"Well, I care about you a lot and wouldn't want you out there on your own," I respond, finally pulling away from him.

I can see my mother watching us from the corner of her eye as she clears up our dishes, a tiny smile flickering across her face. It's only now that I know how thankful I am at the level of her approval. If my mother didn't approve of my love life, then I wouldn't know what I'd do.

I feel a strong urge to kiss Alex, but I know that my dad or brother could walk into the room at any moment and I'm not out to them yet, so I try my best to hold myself back. I can see him looking at my lips, and as he licks his own, my urge only growing stronger. I involuntarily let out a small groan in frustration.

"Am I allowed to tell you that I love you?" Alex says, his eyes moving from my lips to my eyes.

"Go ahead."

He smiles, "I love you."

My mother knocks rapidly on the door to the Montgomery family's household, not bothering to check if there is a doorbell. It doesn't take long for the door to swing open, revealing the tall, angry-looking man I met when Alex and his parents came over for dinner.

"Ciao caro, we are here to collect Alex's things." She says breezily.

"Be quick, I want him out of this house as soon as possible," Alex's dad replies gruffly, his jaw tightening at the sight of his son standing six feet away from my mum.

I squeeze Alex's hand, to which he squeezes mine back. He doesn't look fazed, though. Instead, he pulls me into the house and straight past his father without a second look, my mum following behind us.

"The fact that you are expecting your son to live on the streets... disgustoso. He's not, by the way, he is staying with me. Shall I give you my phone number in case you ever come to your senses and try to earn his trust again?" Mum asks, eyebrow raised almost mockingly, as though she's inwardly laughing at the man's cowardly reaction to his son's revelation of sexuality.

My mum's reaction to this whole thing is one of the reasons why I love her so much. She is not afraid to say what she wants to say, and if mum needs to stick up for someone, everyone knows she wins every time. In my family, if you ever need someone to fight your corner, she's the first person we go and ask for help. I guess you can call her a bit intimidating in an argument, but that's what being Italian is all about. We put people in their place. Always.

She doesn't stop there. "How someone could treat their son like that... all because of his sexuality? It is confusing to me. You are the reason they are in the world. Your duty is to love them, not hurt them. You are sickening to me." She spits.

Ross stares at her emotionlessly, not a single expression of anger, or disgust, or malice. Just nothing. "Is he your boyfriend, Alex?" Alex's dad asks casually, his eyes flitting over to me. I feel myself sink back in intimidation.

"Yes," Alex states forthwith, tugging me towards the stairs. I don't question his answer because I know he's only saying I am his boyfriend to prove a point.

While Alex and I make our way upstairs, mum looks around the room until her eyes land on a notebook placed on top of a phone table. She flips it open, scribbles something down, then slams it closed again, her eyes fuelled with fire.

She doesn't follow us up the stairs but walks past the stairs and towards the living room in search of Alex's mum.

Alex leads me to his bedroom, wasting no time as he whips open his wardrobe and pulls out a big suitcase. I help him pack as many clothes as he can into one case before he has to bring out another. He decides to leave behind any old clothes that he doesn't wear to save space, afterwards finding some boxes in the wardrobe and under his bed.

We don't say much as we stow away his stuff, the only time someone speaks is when I ask whether or not he wants to pack up a particular item or leave it behind. I don't say anything else in respect to his feelings, and he remains quiet for obvious reasons.

Once we've packed as much as we can, I take a step back and scan across the now empty bedroom. The only things left behind are furniture, bedsheets, old clothes and small, unimportant things you wouldn't necessarily need. We then take the boxes downstairs and cram them into my car. We sit in the car until my mother finally leaves the house.

"Tell that faggot I never want to see him again. Have fun living with him. You'll soon realise you'll need to kick him out too. Best change your mind while you still can," I can hear the muffled voice of Mr Montgomery say.

I expect some sort of reaction from Alex, maybe a flinch or even a change of emotion in his eyes, but instead he stares ahead and doesn't say a thing.

"I hope you know that is your son you are talking about," My mother snaps back.

Mr Montgomery lets out a dry laugh, "He's no son of mine," then promptly slams the door in her face. My anger begins to boil.

None of us utters a word until we get home. My dad, Sofia and Eva come out to help us unpack the car without question, though I can tell my sisters already know why this is happening. Eva greets him with a grateful smile due to the events of yesterday. He helped both her and me in a tricky situation. Now we're giving back.

My dad is too respectful to ask in situations like this, so he quietly carries boxes into the house.

The majority of Alex's stuff is being stored in the study, while we put his suitcases of clothes in my bedroom. The first time he speaks since we got to his house is when we're alone together in my bedroom.

"Did you draw me?" He asks, gesturing to the drawing I did of him when Cami was round. I had finished it when she went home and stuck it onto my art wall, not thinking of the possibility that he would see it. I grin sheepishly, shrugging my shoulders. "Wow," he breathes out, reaching to touch it.

"Alex..." I say softly, knowing very well that this is his way of changing the subject; of not confronting the issue which is placed in front of him. He turns his focus onto me, and the look in his eyes makes my heart drop even lower. "Come here," I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him to me tightly as he begins to break down.

I pull him towards my bed where we both sit down with my hand clutched in his. I tell him that he's going to be OK, which I know he will be. I'm not sure how long his dad has been abusing him, but now he's out of that house, away from violence, Alex is going to be more OK than he has in a while. He's now in a safeguarded home surrounded by love. He may not feel OK, but he's going to be OK. No one is going to harm him anymore.

My problems seem so minuscule compared to his. At least when I came out, I wasn't kicked out; I won't be, even if my dad doesn't accept it. I have parents who love me enough to know never to hurt me, and Alex doesn't have that. I get too anxious and riled up about trivial things that are so unimportant, which makes me feel guilty with regards to Alex's situation.

And the thought that his mother is still in that house alone with his dad makes tears prick up in my own eyes. I don't let any fall, though, because I know that's not fair at all. This is his situation, not mine. I can't be getting emotional as though it affects me like it affects him. He's the only person who can react like this. I can't. That's selfish. It's not about me.

My mum did speak to Mrs Montgomery, offering a place at our house for her to stay however she refused.

Mum explained to me that abused spouses take a bit of encouragement to be able to leave the abuser. Fear is constant, and they live in a world of everyday terror. There is a risk of the perpetrator finding them and killing them due to the anger surrounding them leaving. They don't want to risk that, so they stay.

"Thank you," Alex says, lacing his fingers through mine and I can feel a tear fall onto my hand as he leans down to kiss it. He wipes it away with his thumb, "You're the only person that would ever help me like this."

I lean forward and begin to wipe away his tears. I hold my hand against his cheek, and he reclines into my touch, "What about your friends? Surely they'd help you?"

"No, definitely not." He replies, shaking his head, "We're only friends with each other because we're on the same level on the social ladder, not because we want to be friends. We don't care enough about each other to do something like this."

"Oh?"

"But you—you're the only person who has ever cared for me like this. I never expected anyone to want to take me in like this, especially not after what? Three weeks of dating? And your mom. She's amazing. You're so lucky to have someone like her," He wipes across his cheeks with the back of his hand, sucking in a deep breath, "Sorry, I keep blubbering on you. This is like the third time I've properly cried in front of you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I've blubbered on you too. It shows you're OK with letting me see your vulnerable side. That means something to me."

He seemingly can't keep the tears in any longer and begins to sob again. There is a dull ache in the pit of my stomach as I pull him into my embrace and let him cry as I stroke his hair.

"I love you." He says through tears, "Oh God, I love you so much."

Even if your parents/friends/classmates/teachers don't accept you for who you are, I do and so do so many other people. Remember that.

Side note: for everyone who may be confused to why Matthew said that he's not Alex's boyfriend, here's an explanation on the differences between a relationship and dating:

Dating: they're allowed to see other people. E.g. if Matthew wants to go on a date with someone else, he can.

Exclusively dating: they can't see other people but don't have the full responsibility of a relationship. A way to put it is testing the waters to see if they want to be together as boyfriends properly.

Relationship: they're boyfriends with all that responsibility crap.

I hope this helps! 🤗